Kicker

“Come on, Troy. You’re not concentrating. Focus!”

Troy wearily climbed out of the landing pit. By the time the party had finished last night, it was really 5am this morning. He had scrounged a lift from Lucy, and had only been five minutes late to training. He thought that was a pretty good effort.

But he was having trouble mastering a trick today that he had nailed yesterday. Now he had a sprained ankle and a pissed-off coach.

“You were out last night, weren’t you,” Sean called out, as he watched Troy struggle to get his bike out of the pit.

Troy said nothing.

Sean sighed. He slapped the rail of the viewing platform in frustration, then walked down the steps and over to Troy. “You know you had training this morning, so why did you go?”

Troy said nothing again.

“You have to understand, Troy. This is the big time. People have invested a lot of time and money in your abilities. If you don’t get serious about what you are doing, those people are going to disappear before you can wave them goodbye.”

“But I’m doing all right,” Troy protested, “I’m winning most of the time.”

“Yes, you are doing all right,” Sean said, “but you could do so much better. We haven’t even started tapping into how much ability and talent you have. You only get this moment once. Don’t waste it. You know I know what I’m talking about.”

Sean’s parents believed in hard work and self - belief, and Sean learned to live his life following the same principles. It had helped him achieve a few successes. But at best, his abilities had been average. Hard work got him on the podium.

But Sean lost focus, and he slipped down the ranks. It was too easy to be distracted with the perks that came along with the sport. A broken leg and arm took him off a bike for a whole season.

Those months on the couch gave him time to think, and a great idea hit him. The local council was running a competition. He won a grant, and at twenty, started his own coaching business.

“I can’t work with you undermining all the groundwork I’m trying to put in for you,” Sean said. “For you to be a success, and for us to be a success, you have to follow what I say, to the letter. Not when you feel like it. You only get this moment once.”

“Yeah, and I only get the moment once when I’m young and have lots of mates.”

“Okay, then, let’s compromise. Cut down the partying to one night per week. Only Saturday night. But nothing passes your lips unless it has been approved by me. And when you get here, which will be on time, every day, I want a hundred and ten percent.”

Troy thought about it. Deep down he knew that he could be more committed. Did he love freestyle? Definitely. Did he love going out? Not as much. Was it worth the sacrifice? Absolutely.

“All right. I’ll give it a try. That I can promise you, at least.”

“Good,” Sean replied. “Let’s call it a day. Tomorrow, you can arrive, and bring your new attitude. We are going to set Sydney alight, all right?”

Troy grinned, a tantalising picture of him triumphantly landing the last jump flashing in his mind. “All right.”
* * * * *

“Did you have fun the other night?” Shelley asked him.

Troy finished chewing. “Yeah, I did. What about you?”

“I’m glad you didn’t ride home.”

“Yeah, so was I,” he said, not being able to stop a small smile. “It wasn’t until I ran into you that I started having fun.”

This was weird. Shelley wasn’t talking. And she seemed upset.

“Shel, is anything wrong?”

She shook her head.

“You sure?”

With effort, she turned to look at him. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just that, normally, I’m battling to get a word in. What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“I know it’s not nothing. Will you tell me what it is?”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. Just a girl thing, that’s all.”

He sighed.
* * * * *

From what Sean had said, he expected Troy to stop drinking. He didn’t say anything about cutting back on girls. Troy sipped water, and the chicks seemed even more impressed that he wasn’t getting wasted like everyone else at the party.

He met Kiara at the makeshift bar. He was glad that he wasn’t drunk when he met her. It was taking him all the effort he could muster to not salivate over her, even sober.

“I figure you’re here with someone,” Troy said. His face smiled but his voice was disappointed.

“My boyfriend’s over there with his mates.” She pointed to a group of boys up the back yahooing and staggering around. “Is it okay if I come and sit with you and your girlfriend? I really only know Ty here, and he’s not good for intelligent conversation at the moment.”

“He’s not real good for intelligent conversation any time,” Troy said. “Yeah, come and sit with me. I haven’t got any girlfriend for you to talk to, but.”

She smiled, her teeth another work of art in the gallery of masterpieces that was her face. “Thanks.”

They went and sat down on a couple of chairs in the backyard.

“Do you do anything outside school?” she asked Troy.

“Yeah, I ride motorbikes. Freestyle motorcross.”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, her eyes lighting up in recognition, “Ty told me about you. He says you’re the best.”

“We’ll see. I gotta nail the Sydney Games first. Then I can officially call myself that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“What do you do?” he asked. “You obviously play a lot of sport.”

“I run middle distance, and do gymnastics as well. I start training next week for the nationals, so it’s going to be pretty full-on for me, with the HSC coming up and everything.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling. You want another drink?” He pointed to her now-empty glass.

“Thanks. Just Coke, please.”

Ty found Troy carefully pouring the Coke. “Glad to see you’ve fallen off the wagon, Bully,” he said.

“It’s not for me.”

“Who’s it for?”

“Her.” Troy pointed out the window to Kiara.

Ty sucked air between his teeth in a concerned sigh. “Oh, Bully, be fuckin’ careful there, mate. Her boyfriend’s a fuckin’ prick, and he won’t hesitate to hurt you if he thinks you’re tryin’ to pick up his girl.”

“He’s fuckin’ wasted. I don’t think I got much to worry about there.”

“Just be careful. And I’ll be fuckin’ jealous as hell if you root her.”

Troy grinned. “We’ll see.”

“Yeah, right, Bully!”

Troy laughed as he left Ty, waving off the jeers and whoops with the back of his middle finger.

“Thanks,” Kiara said, accepting her drink.

“No worries.”

“You know, Troy,” she said, as he sat back down, “I was thinking, with all that bending and stretching you do, you should maybe try doing some Pilates.”

“I already have,” he confessed reluctantly. The boys would have a field day with it if it got out. “My coach thought the same thing, so I’ve gotta go twice a week.”

“Really! How did you like it?”

“It was good. I went straight from there to the compound, and I found it was a heap easier to nail the jumps. I felt … more flexible, I guess.”

“It’s great for flexibility.”

“You’ve done it?”

“Gymnasts have been doing it for ages. Before it was even trendy.”

“What, even the blokes?”

“Yeah, even the blokes. It’s great exercise.”

Troy was impressed. Despite the gay costumes they made them wear, male gymnasts looked like strong fuckers to him. “Well, anything those blokes do has gotta be good. Looking at their guns, there is no way I would arm-wrestle ‘em.”

She shook her head at him. “What?”

“They look heaps strong to me.”

“Oh, yeah. They are.”

He realised that he really liked this chick, but not in the way that he thought he would like her. She was really easy to talk to. Her interest in what he did seemed genuine, not just put on so she could hook up with him.

Kiara’s boyfriend staggered towards them, flanked by his mates. The stench of alcohol was stifling.

Troy stood up. He was a lover, not a fighter.

“Hey,” Troy said, extending his hand. “I’m Troy.”

He received a black eye in return. Another one had landed before his brain had time to register the first.

“Leave him alone!” yelled Ty, leaping over the top of Troy.

Troy ducked to evade any more of Ty’s weight, and copped a Doc Marten squarely in the ribs. He’d fallen on that spot before, in training. He cried out in a winded sort of groan.
Ty was taking them all on. Troy took the opportunity and ducked away from the flying fists and boots.

Back to safety, he turned to see what was going on, and noticed Kiara in the middle of it all, unable to get out. She lost her footing and was getting shoved around and stepped on as the brawl raged on above her. He ducked low, ran back into the mess and grabbed her.

“Are you all right?” he asked her, helping her back to safety. It came out as a wheeze.

“Yeah, I’m fine. But what about you?”

He coughed. “ I’ll be ‘right in a minute. I’m out of here. Do you need a lift home?”