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through two carriages before I see his hair. At last. It’s time for kick-off.
    Nick is about five metres away from me. That’s a long way in peak-hour traffic. Imagine it. Bags carpet the aisle. Bodies squash in against each other. At least fifty people obstructing the ball. I’m finding out more than I want to about the man next to me. He’s not wearing deodorant and I’m forced to hold my breath beyond all levels of human endurance.
    I’m at about the two-minute mark when I decide my destiny needs a little help. I elbow my way through thirty bodies hanging on to rails like plane passengers about to crash into the Atlantic. That’s not the hard bit, though. About halfway down the aisle, I hook my feet into the handles of a bag and fly into the back of an old woman. That’s not the hard bit either. I have to use the face of the man sitting down near her to stop my fall. That’s easy too. The hard part? Making it all look casual. And this is very important, because it was at about the two-and-a-half-minute mark that Nick spotted me.
    â€˜Nick? Hi.’ Hello destiny, I think as I peel my hand from the face of the man who has broken my fall.
    â€˜Gracie, hi. What are you doing here?’
    I take a little time to think about tactics. There’s just no good way to say, ‘I’m following you in the hope you’ll ask me out because in Year 8 I saw you reading a soccer magazine.’
    â€˜I’m staying at my aunt’s place tonight.’ Lying is much better.
    â€˜Are you playing soccer this week?’ he asks.
    â€˜Uh-huh.’
    â€˜I’m going to see a film after the match with some of the guys. You should come.’
    At last, I’m lining up the shot.
    â€˜My brother said he’d take me in. We could pick you up on the way, about seven?’
    I swing back and kick. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘That sounds great.’ It’s a perfect shot. The crowd goes wild. It’s a goal.
    The thing I like about Nick is that he notices me. He watches all the games. He waits to talk to me after every one. Last week I walked off the field and he was leaning against the fence next to the change rooms. My heart made a quick trip down to my boots.
    â€˜Hi, Nick.’
    â€˜Hey, Gracie, you played a good match today.’
    His words grabbed hold of my throat; they made it hard to talk, hard to breathe. I could see him looking at my hair, brown and pulled back in a ponytail, at my shorts and boots. At my eyes. Some people say I’m plain looking but standing there in front of Nick that day, I felt like I was exactly right.
    Just like now.
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ANNABELLE
    I’m so sick of Gracie Faltrain hogging the limelight.
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FLEMMING
    I’m so sick of Gracie Faltrain hogging the ball.
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GRACIE
    He asked me, Jane.
    I can hardly wait to tell someone. I press send and wait for her to reply.
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JANE
    And you didn’t even have to hit him in the balls.

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    see verb : to look through the eyes;
    perceive verb : to be aware through the
heart or the mind
NICK
    Like I said, she’s plain, you know? But there’s definitely something about her. I see it when she’s on the soccer pitch, the whole school is cheering her and she’s winning the match all on her own. I’m a football player myself, but I love to watch soccer. I especially like watching her . She’s got a great body. Out there she’s got something, you know, something I’ve never seen before.
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ANNABELLE
    Can we talk about something else please ? I’m so tired of Gracie Faltrain. I can’t believe he asked her out. What about me? What about my hair and my eyes? If Nick says one more thing about her, it’ll be the last thing he says. I mean c’mon, I’ve got boobs.
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MARTIN
    Who cares what she looks like? She plays soccer like a champion.
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JAKE MORIESON (STRIKER)
    She plays soccer like she’s out there alone. And that’s no