What Supergirl Did Next Read online

  ‘Well that’s ah . . . something . . .’ Monique swallowed. ‘Still, pretty bad . . . timing.’

  Then she went quiet, and I realised she wasn’t going to mention State Squad until I did.

  ‘So . . .’ I closed my eyes. ‘Did you make the squad?’

  There was silence on the other end of the phone. For a moment I wondered if the team still hadn’t been selected. Maybe they were going to wait until my knee had healed – wait until selection was fair . . .

  Then Monique said, ‘Yeah. I’m really stoked! I mean, I’m sorry about you, Jade. But . . . yeeeees!’

  I sagged slightly on my crutches. ‘Well . . .’ I said, swallowing and opening my eyes. Inside I was screaming.

  ‘At least one of us made it . . .’ I said finally, even though I didn’t really mean it. For some reason it would all have been much, much easier to take if Monique had missed out on selection too.

  ‘Thanks, Jade. And come back to train when you can . . .’ said Monique, with that happy lilt.

  ‘Yeah, see ya.’ I pushed the off button without waiting for a reply and chucked my phone onto my desk.

  My knee was tight and tender as I lifted it to rest on a pillow. But I was almost enjoying the pain.

  Hurts does it, knee? Serves you right. You’re the one that let me down . . .

  Late in the afternoon I was sitting with my knee packed in ice, when I heard the front door click open and the jingle of my sister’s car keys being dumped on the hall table. Samantha always seemed to be at uni or studying or waitressing until the middle of the night – my phantom sister. Even when she was at home her spirit seemed to be drifting further and further away.

  There was a faint tapping on my door.

  ‘Sam?’ I called, surprised at the excitement in my voice.

  For a moment, she hung back in the doorway as if she didn’t want to step into my room. She was wearing a new black top that made her look way older than nineteen. I was jealous straight away. At least I’m still fitter than her, I thought. Samantha’s kind of soft-looking and puffy.

  ‘Come on, sit down.’ I hitched myself a little higher on my bed. Samantha hardly ever asked me about my gymnastics. I couldn’t even remember talking to Mum about gym without Samantha making some lame excuse to leave the room. But for some reason I was glad to get a visit from her now.

  ‘So . . . guess you’ve been having a bit of a chuckle,’ I said, trying to sound breezy.

  Samantha rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not, Jade.’ She sat on my bed, careful not to move the mattress too much. ‘You’re the one who enjoys other people’s misery.’

  I ignored that one.

  Samantha looked around my room, her eyes lingering on my medals and trophies, a slight crease on her forehead. Then she turned and looked straight at me. ‘So, how are you holding up?’ she said softly.

  I shrugged and sighed. ‘Fine.’ Then I forced a smile. ‘Onwards and upwards and all that . . .’ When our eyes met, Samantha had a scrunch in her nose and I knew what she was thinking. That phrase is one of Mum’s favourites.

  ‘Anyway, how’s uni?’ I asked quickly, because gymnastics felt like dangerous territory.

  Sam settled deeper into the bed and her whole face broke into a smile. ‘Good. Strange. It’s not like I was expecting, but it’s good . . .’ She trailed off, frowning at my open bedroom door. Then she reached forward and pushed it shut.

  I knew why. We’d all had enough of the arguments about Samantha going to art college – neither of us wanted to start Mum up again: Who’s going to pay your bills when your art doesn’t sell? Independence is everything, Sam! When are you going to start living in the real world?

  When the door was shut, she started again, ‘It’s so good, Jade. I mean . . . I can see there’s no money in it and all. But I can always teach – and it just feels right, you know? Seeing something . . .’ she laid both hands on her chest and breathed in, ‘feeling something inside, and then bringing it alive on the canvas? I’ll never get tired of that.’

  I nodded. It was kind of weird to hear her talking so passionately about something. She used to be so lost and undecided. I think I’d imagined that she’d stay an angry teenager forever, just to get back at Mum.

  ‘And waitressing? How’s that going?’

  Samantha shrugged, staring at my trophy cabinet. ‘I haven’t had to ask Mum for any money, have I?’ She stood up and lifted a small old trophy from the shelf, wiping the dust from the fake marble base.

  ‘Remember when you won this?’ she asked, holding up the trophy and twisting. It glinted in the light.

  ‘Do I!’ I said. It was smaller and cheaper-looking than the others, the first trophy I’d ever won. I’ll always remember the way Mum looked at me that day, excited and strangely curious. It was the first time she called me Supergirl.

  ‘It’s my favourite,’ I said, ‘even though I’ve won a heap of kick-arse giant trophies since that one.’

  For a moment Samantha squashed her mouth into a thin line. Then she looked at me and smiled. ‘Well, let’s put it somewhere you can see it better.’ She pushed aside a book on my bedside table, and put the trophy in its place. ‘You’ll be right, Jade,’ she said with a firm nod. ‘You’ll see.’

  I looked up at her, and shrugged. ‘Of course I will!’

  But if my knee miraculously healed overnight, Monique came down with some rare form of typhoid and I got to take her place in the State Squad, then I’d be even better.

  The next morning I slid out of bed, determined to test my knee. Just one small step. A bit of weight . . .

  My knee screamed so loud that my vision went white.

  Alright then, I won’t try to win that battle. Yet.

  Pip called, which was sweet.

  Then Russell called and gave me the number of a physio I could start seeing.

  ‘Sounds like we’re lucky,’ he said, when I described what the swelling looked like. ‘We won’t need to bother with an MRI.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ I breathed. ‘So . . . what next?’

  ‘Call the physio first, okay? And when she says you can, come in and we’ll work on your upper body . . .’

  ‘Yeah . . .’ I said vaguely, picturing a million chin-ups with a brilliant view of Monique practicing for State. ‘That sounds . . . good.’

  After that Rene turned up, hugging a terracotta pot in her arms like a newborn baby.

  ‘Rene!’ I said, frowning at the pot in her hand. I’d already spoken to her on the phone the night before, but it was good to get a visit now.

  For a moment Rene looked at me, her head tilted in sympathy. Then she gently placed the pot on my desk. Stumpy green spikes poked out of the dirt.

  ‘They’re daffodils, see?’ she said, raising her dark eyebrows. ‘By the time they flower, I bet your knee will be better. Like . . . they can be your timer, growing as you heal.’

  ‘Aw, Rene . . .’ I held out my arms.

  It was an awkward hug with lots of air between us, as if Rene was worried she might hurt my knee by squeezing my shoulders too tight. When she pulled back, she shook her head slightly. ‘Oh Jade . . . you must be so upset!’

  The look in her eyes made my throat go tight so I quickly gulped it away. We don’t need any wimps around here.

  Rene clutched my hand. ‘I was thinking . . . this is like a movie, you know? When the girl and guy have a big fight and you think they’ll never get together?’

  I rolled my eyes and pretended to stick a finger down my throat. Rene’s such a soppy romantic.

  She grinned. ‘It’s like . . . you’re the girl and the Nationals are the guy. Yeah? And you will get together . . . You’ll see, Jade. We all know you can do it.’

  ‘Or one of those movies about a sports team, and they always lose their first game by heaps . . .’ I added.

  ‘Yeah, but they always win in the end.’

  After that Rene disappeared into the kitchen to make a big pot of camomile tea and we spent the next hour talkin
g about weird stuff in movies – like how no one ever goes to the toilet, and how the heroes are always better-looking than the baddies, and the women always wear make-up to bed.

  We just mucked around and didn’t really say anything important. But by the time she left I felt different – calmer somehow.

  I packed my knee in ice again and looked evenly around my room. The shelves and walls were covered with gymnastics medals and trophies, as well as ribbons and certificates from school athletics and debating, and other achievement awards. My mirror was rimmed with a lion’s mane of inspiring quotes from Mum. Always aim higher. Be the best you can be. Want-Believe-Succeed.

  Leaning forward, I read through them slowly, hungry for inspiration. After a while I lay gingerly back on my bed.

  I wasn’t the first athlete who had ever been injured. This was a blip in my plan, of course, a pothole in my bright, shiny road, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

  Maybe it was just a test – the universe checking to see if I really wanted it that bad. So bad that you’ll fight the pain and the shame of injury? Bad enough that you’ll come back for more?

  The universe obviously didn’t have any idea who it was dealing with. I sure as hell wasn’t a quitter.

  I shut my eyes, sucked in a big breath and pictured my path from here. It was just a matter of shifting the spotlight a little. All I had to do was let my knee heal, then train my guts out for State Squad next year. I just had to imagine it, then make it happen.

  One little injury wasn’t going to stop me.

  CHAPTER 3

  ‘Right . . . okay . . . and does she need to bring anything?’

  It was Monday morning and Mum was on the phone. I shifted in my seat, bad leg resting on an extra chair, and started stabbing my Weet-Bix to get the milk soaked through.

  Two seconds later, Mum slapped a sticky note on the table beside me: Grey St Physio Thurs 4pm. She was wearing a business jacket and suit skirt. As always, her hair and make-up were flawless.

  ‘’anks M’m,’ I managed, mouth full of soggy cereal.

  ‘What else can I get for you, sweetie?’ She’d already cleared away the cereal box and the milk.

  I wiped a slop of milk from the table and shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Nothing really.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to be working from home today, so I have to make some phone calls.’ For a moment Mum’s brisk efficiency faded as she tilted her head and looked at me. She brushed the backs of her fingers against my cheek. ‘Just yell if you need something, okay?’

  I nodded, and by the time I had started scooping cereal again Mum was talking on her mobile in the study.

  After breakfast I spent a good twenty minutes visualising my floor routine from start to end – without any injuries – with my leg up and my knee packed in ice.

  I was feeling a bit better about State Squad. Next year wasn’t so far away. And I’d have one advantage at least – more time to prepare than everyone else. Maybe I could start building so far out and work so mind-numbingly hard that I could blast into the Nationals next year and blitz even better than anyone could ever expect.

  The thought made my breath come fast. I could do it, I knew I could. I just had work harder than ever . . .

  I took the ice pack off my knee and started into stomach crunches – 120 pounding ones. They worked fine because crunches are hardest when your knees are lifted on a chair or, in my case, a pile of flimsy pillows. Man it felt good – the strain in my muscles and the grunt in my gut, my blood surging and pumping. A stupid weak knee wasn’t about to make me go soft.

  After that I tried some leg raises, but they only worked on my good side and I imagined myself turning into the elephant-girl gymnast – huge muscles on one side and all spindly and weak on the other. Not exactly a winning look.

  By ten o’clock I had no idea what else to do. Mum, the Terminator Woman, was busy working and everyone else was at school. It took me about ten seconds to realise that morning TV was a total yawn.

  The day felt stretched out and strange. Usually I was really busy. Training twenty-two hours a week meant I had to be super-organised with homework. Sometimes I had to finish assignments days before they were due because the rest of my week was so chock full of gym. Any extra time I could sneak I spent with Rene, but I couldn’t call her during class time.

  For a while, I stared at the tired old trophy that Samantha had left beside my bed, trying to conjure up the bold, brash feeling that would help me show the universe I was a winner. But after a while my mind wandered and I began thinking about the club championships when I won that little trophy. I hadn’t thought about it for ages, but Samantha did that comp too. She was the reason I started gym in the first place. Now that I thought about it, those club championships were the last gym comp that Samantha ever did.

  It’s weird the things that pop into your mind when you give yourself space to think.

  After that I mucked around on the crutches, swinging with both feet in the air, lifting my good leg up in a graceful pointed kick. I got pretty good after a while, with only a weenie bit of pain. Then I practised using the crutches properly, making sure I could get around without looking completely unco.

  ‘Jade, do you have a minute?’ Mum called as I clunk-hopped past the lounge room. She had work papers covering the coffee table.

  ‘Just let me check.’ I rested on the crutches and pretended to read through a list of important appointments on my palm. ‘Yep, I can squeeze you in.’ Then I clunked back with a little crutch-assisted leap here and there.

  Mum was sitting on the edge of the couch, her knees pressed tightly together. ‘So, Jade, do you have an action plan from here? Or is it too early to ask?’

  I liked it when she spoke to me as if she were talking to a work colleague in a business meeting. It made me think that maybe, one day, I could even work with her – learn everything she knew about the world of property development that had made her so Superwoman successful.

  ‘Well . . .’ It was hard to look businesslike with my bad leg stuck out. ‘I’ve been thinking of aiming for State selection next year. Lots of time to prepare at least.’

  Mum’s face relaxed into a smile – a real one for once. Then she sighed. ‘Good. That’s my girl. A setback like this can make some people think of quitting . . .’ Her eyes narrowed.

  I shrugged and smiled because the idea hadn’t even entered my mind.

  Mum’s face relaxed again and she nodded. ‘And I was thinking . . . you could use this extra time to get ahead with school, so when your knee’s back on track you can catch up at gym and not have homework to deal with.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Keeping up-to-date with homework was one of my superpowers, but getting ahead? I didn’t want to think what would happen if anyone at school found out. But there was a book report due in four weeks that I could get stuck into.

  ‘Okay . . .’ I said slowly.

  Mum clapped her hands once and smiled. ‘Great, let’s get to work.’

  ‘Right.’ Business meeting over. I stood up on my one good leg, and clunked back to my room concentrating on moving as efficiently as possible. From my bedroom I could hear the beeping of Mum’s mobile.

  Terminator Woman and Supergirl take on the world.

  By the time I heard Rene click the front gate behind her, I was desperate for some company. I’d finished reading the book, and had started planning my report. A laugh a minute.

  ‘Thank heavens you’re here!’ I called from the front door. I hopped forward and sat gingerly on the front steps. My knee felt almost comfortable resting like that.

  ‘Hey, babe! You look better already,’ Rene said. She tucked her skirt under her legs and sat next to me on the step. Then she held up a chocolate frog and swung it temptingly. ‘I guess you don’t need this to cheer you up.’

  Chocolate! That’s my girl. I put my hands up like paws and let my tongue flop out like a puppy.

  ‘Good doggie.’ Rene patted my head and held the frog up in front o
f my nose.

  I bit the edge of the wrapper, pulled the frog out of her grasp and dropped it into my lap. Then I picked it up, tore it open and broke the frog in half.

  Rene took her gooey chocolate piece. ‘Thanks, chum.’

  ‘So, tell me everything,’ I said eagerly, licking strawberry goo from my fingers. ‘What did I miss at school?’

  Rene shook her head. ‘You’ve only missed one day.’ But her cheeks seemed pinker than normal.

  ‘Come on, Rene, out with it,’ I said, rubbing my hands together.

  Rene glanced at me, then down at her knees. ‘Well. I did see Marco on the weekend . . . shopping at Highgate . . .’

  ‘Ick!’ I shivered. Marco was one of those guys who believed he was God’s gift to the universe, and to his football team. ‘Is he a total sleaze outside of school, too?’

  ‘Not really,’ she said quickly, looking at her knees. Her cheeks were still bright pink. Then she jerked her head up and smiled as if glad to have thought of something new. ‘Actually, there is one bit of goss. It’s kind of weird . . .’

  I nodded with my eyebrows raised.

  ‘You know Levi Sinclair? He hurt his knee on Saturday too. Same day as you.’ Rene frowned at my bandage. ‘I don’t know if it was the same knee . . .’

  ‘Really?’ I asked, not sure if it was interesting or not. Even though we were in the same PE class, I didn’t know Levi very well. He looked about eighteen and was a total star of the football team. From what I could tell, Levi wasn’t an arrogant jerk like Marco. Though it was hard to be sure. Levi hardly said anything.

  ‘And he went to school today?’ I asked suddenly.

  ‘Yup,’ said Rene, staring into space. ‘I wonder if a sore knee was in your stars or something. Do you know when his birthday is?’

  I shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Don’t care.’ But part of me didn’t like the idea that Levi had gone back to school while I sat on my bum at home.

  Going back to school was tougher than I’d expected. It hurt. I was bumped a couple of times in the corridor, just lightly, but the slight jolts were enough to make me worry about some idiot crashing right into me. It was hard to get comfortable in class, too. I had to sit up the back with my leg on a chair, trying not to take up too much room. By lunchtime, my knee was tender, my armpits were aching and staying at home working on homework not due until next century was almost looking good.