 
Offside

By Lynne Roberts

Published by Liberty Publications at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Lynne Roberts ISBN 978-1-927241-05-9

Smashwords Edition, License Notes   
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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter One

"Couch potatoes," thundered Mr Marshall. "That's what you lot are. A bunch of couch potatoes!"

The class gazed at him open mouthed.

"It is not good enough." Their teacher punctuated his words with loud thumps on the desk in front of him. "Too much television, that's the trouble. When I was your age we didn't sit and watch television."

"Probably hadn't been invented," suggested Seth quietly.

"In my day we played sport. Healthy outdoors stuff. That's what you lot need. Get some oxygen into your brains. These essays are disgraceful. I give you a simple topic – ' _What I did in the holidays_ \- and all most of you did was to watch television. Words fail me."

"I wish they would," whispered Maggie to Melanie in the next seat. "I hate it when he shouts."

"And you, Maggie Johnson, can take a lunchtime detention for whispering," said Mr Marshall. "Everybody take out their text book please. Page forty-seven. Do all the examples in silence."

Maggie rolled her eyes at Melanie who gave her a sympathetic look. Mr Marshall's English classes were always tricky. He was fussy about presentation, fussy about spelling, "and fussy about jolly near everything," thought Maggie.

"Bad luck," her friends muttered to her as the bell rang and they trooped out, leaving Maggie alone in the room with her teacher.

"I'm not spoiling my lunch hour," said Mr Marshall grimly. "I'll leave you a page to write and when you've finished it, put it on my desk and go."

"What do I write about?" asked Maggie nervously.

"The importance of exercise," glared Mr Marshall as he swept from the room.

Maggie's relief turned to indignation.

"What about him spoiling my lunch hour?" she thought. But she knew that the sooner she wrote her essay the sooner she could meet up with her friends.

_Why is exercise important_? - she wrote. _It is important because_ .... Maggie hesitated and sucked the end of her pen. What had Mr Marshall said?

"Oh yes, to increase oxygen to the brain. And to get fit of course," she thought. "I guess to make you feel better, to keep healthy..." she started scribbling, trying to keep up with the ideas flowing and was surprised to see after ten minutes that she had covered two pages. Placing it neatly on the teacher's desk she ran out to join Melanie and Lisa at their favourite seat by the library.

"Poor you," said Lisa sympathetically. "Mr Marshall always picks on someone."

"Oh, I didn't mind too much," said Maggie, "But listen you two, I've had a great idea."

"No, no, no, no!" said Melanie putting her hands over her ears. "I'm not listening."

"Not another idea," groaned Lisa. "You know what happened last time!"

"Well that wasn't so wonderful," admitted Maggie. She had been struck with the idea of doing good in the community. Maggie had talked Melanie and Lisa into joining with her and offering to help elderly people. They had helpfully weeded old Mr Stewart's garden and dug up all his prize dahlia tubers thinking they were potatoes. They had painted Mrs Jenkins steps with shiny new paint that she slipped on and nearly broke her leg. They had tidied Mr Burcher's shed and thrown out boxes full of old irreplaceable antique tools. Lisa and Melanie shuddered at the memory of the irate phone calls their parents had received.

"Not another idea Maggie," pleaded Melanie.

"But this idea is brilliant," said Maggie stubbornly. "Just listen. Mr Marshall said we were all couch potatoes."

"He's probably quite right. I like being a couch potato," said Lisa. "Especially when the soap operas are on after school."

"Me too," agreed Melanie. "Lying on a couch in front of TV and eating pizza is my idea of heaven."

"Just listen for a minute, will you?" said Maggie in exasperation. "We should start a keep fit campaign and show Mr Marshall how good we are at exercising. We could ask him if he'll give a special class award, like a day off or a medal, to the person who gets fittest in our class."

Melanie and Lisa looked at her in horror.

"What do we get out of this?" demanded Lisa.

"We get fit," smiled Maggie. "And," she added hastily," if we take up a sport we may meet some neat guys."

"Hey yeah." Lisa's eyes lit up. "Some of those body builders from Year Twelve. I'd like to meet them."

"Well you wouldn't if they're anything like my brother Nick," said Maggie darkly. "He's in Year Twelve. He has dirty socks and smelly feet and all he does is eat. None of his friends would be even remotely interested in us; they all talk about movie stars not 13 year old girls."

"I'd still like to meet some. They can't all be like that," said Lisa stubbornly.

"Perhaps we will, but probably not straight away. But it's worth a try. Will you give a go? I'll go and ask Mr Marshall now what he thinks."

Melanie shook her head sadly as Maggie marched off.

"Mad," she said. "Quite mad. He'll never agree to it."

To Melanie's surprise, in fact to the whole class's surprise, Mr Marshall was in favour of the idea.

"We'll do a fitness test in the gym with Mr Smith the PE teacher after school," he announced. "I'll record your levels now and we'll compare it again at the end of the term. You will all keep a weekly journal of any sports activities or exercise program you are involved in." Several of the girls glared at Maggie. "For the best journal there will be a prize, and if more than half the class stick to it for the term and improve their fitness levels, I will organise a bus trip to take you to the mountain for a day next term. You'll be able to go snowboarding or tobogganing and even skiing if you want to."

The class was very excited and happy about the prospect of a day at the mountain, but not so keen on the journal idea. Melanie cried, "A whole term," in horror to Lisa, as they lined up for their fitness test.

Mr Smith recorded their pulse rate and made half of the class do four laps of the gym followed by twenty step-ups. He then put them into pairs to have their pulse taken again.

"Take it for fifteen seconds, then multiply it by four," he instructed. "Keep taking it every minute and note how long it takes for the pulse rate to return to normal. The fitter you are," he explained, "the sooner your pulse rate will return to normal."

Most of the class groaned and panted through the test. A few of the boys, like Seth and Mike who played sport regularly, were already very fit.

"We have to make an exercise schedule," Maggie told her friends. "What would you like to do first?"

"Have a hot bath then die," groaned Lisa. "My legs hurt from running."

Melanie agreed. "But I don't want to do a whole heap of boring exercises," she said. "Can't we do something interesting?"

"We could try a sport," said Maggie thoughtfully. "They are holding Netball trials on Saturday. How about if we go along?"

"I thought you didn't like netball," said Melanie. "You've never been any good at it, and you always found an excuse not to play whenever we did it in PE. You used to tidy up the equipment cupboard as I recall."

"That was when I was little. I've grown up now," said Maggie indignantly.

"Do you know how to play now?" enquired Lisa innocently.

"Well no," admitted Maggie. "But it can't be too hard. I've watched the Silver Ferns on TV."

Maggie imagined herself captaining the Silver Ferns. They were playing Australia and the score was 32 all. Three seconds to go and now was her chance to score the winning goal. Negligently she leaned around five large Aussie players and tossed the ball lightly into the hoop. The crowd cheered. Her team held her shoulder high. A reporter rushed forward.

' _That was amazing Maggie.'_

Maggie smiled.

' _It was nothing, really,' she said modestly._

Maggie woke up with a jolt to see Melanie and Lisa staring at her.

"Well, shall we try netball?" asked Maggie.

"Anything for peace," sighed Lisa and the girls agreed to meet at the netball courts at the school on Saturday.

Saturday morning was fine and warm.

"It's going to be far too hot," grumbled Lisa as they walked up the tar sealed driveway past the gymnasium. Around them the empty classrooms shone blank windows onto groups of giggling girls and the occasional young boy zooming past on a skateboard.

"That's because it's still the end of summer," said Maggie reasonably. "They like to get their teams sorted out in plenty of time."

"Let's get it over with," said Melanie with a sigh, tossing her hat and backpack down on a nearby bench.

The three girls put their names down and were each allocated a position in a team. Maggie pulled on the bright orange top over her T-shirt.

"I'm Wing Defence. This should be fun," she said encouragingly, as Melanie and Lisa reluctantly pulled on their tops. The girls were disappointed to be put in different teams and agreed to meet and compare notes after the trial games. Maggie walked confidently onto the second court.

"Hi Maggie. Are you taking up netball now?" asked Mrs Robinson. She had three daughters of her own and helped coach a team each week.

"Yes," said Maggie, "I'm sure it will be fun."

Mrs Robinson gave her an encouraging smile as she blew the whistle to start the game.

Maggie stood helplessly watching as what seemed like dozens of girls, all of whom towered head and shoulders above her, began running purposefully in all directions around her.

"Ow!" she gasped as an elbow hit her in the back. "Ouch!" she cried as a foot stamped hard on her toe. She dodged out of the way.

"Pass it to me, pass it to me," she cried as she ran forward.

"Out of my way, you idiot," came a cry from behind her.

"Stay in position," "move forward," "move back." The shouts came from every side. Maggie ran around the court attempting to do as she was told. All the girls seemed to know instinctively what to do. They caught the ball, passed the ball, and tossed it lightly through the hoops at either end of the court. Maggie found the pace a lot faster than she had expected and grew hotter and hotter as she leapt around. The laces on one of her sneakers came loose and she half ran, half hopped around the court.

"Here, Maggie. Catch."

The call came from Chelsea in the centre. The ball sailed into Maggie's waiting hands and she spun on the spot to throw it to Chelsea as she ran forward. But as she turned, Maggie tripped on her trailing shoelace and sprawled on her face on the court. The Centre from the other team joyfully snatched the ball and passed it down to the goal area where their Goal Attack popped it into the net. Maggie felt foolish. Hastily she stumbled off the court to tie up her lace, with double knots this time. One of the selectors gave her a sympathetic smile as she scribbled on her clipboard.

"That wouldn't have impressed her," thought Maggie gloomily. "I'll have to do better from now on."

Mrs Robinson blew the whistle and the girls moved to the side to sip water from their drink bottles. Maggie tried to talk to her team mates but they ignored her as they huddled together discussing tactics for the next quarter of the game. She glanced across to see how Melanie and Lisa were getting on but couldn't tell for the crowds of girls and mothers milling around the courts.

"I can do this, I can do this," Maggie told herself. She stuck to her opposing Wing Attack like glue, but was unable to stop her catching and passing the ball at what appeared to be lightning speed. At last the ball came in Maggie's direction. Pushing past the Wing Attack Maggie ran forward and caught the ball.

"I've got it," she screamed "Who wants it?"

The whistle blew.

"Your foot is over the line," pointed out the Wing Attack scornfully.

"Half time," said Mrs Robinson. "Change ends now, girls."

The last two quarters of the game were no better for Maggie than the first had been. Her shoelaces stayed firmly tied but she had little success in catching or passing the ball. The rest of the team passed the ball between themselves and ignored her desperate cries for it. Not that she could blame them, as she when she did manage to catch it she inevitably passed it straight to the opposition. The opposing players all appeared to be at least two metres tall and still growing, as no matter how high she jumped the ball flew above her outstretched arms. With a sigh of relief Maggie heard Mrs Robinson blow the whistle for full time.

"Bad luck orange team, better luck next time. Hand in the vests please."

Maggie disconsolately handed back her vest.

"Do you think I'll get into a team?" she asked hopefully.

"I'm afraid not at this stage," said Mrs Robinson gently. "You would need to join the younger girls and do the training sessions to brush up on your ball skills first."

"Oh well," said Maggie despondently, "perhaps I'll give it a miss then. Thanks for letting me try out today," she added and went to find her friends.

Lisa had been more successful than the other two. Lisa, despite her protests, was very well co-ordinated and picked up sports quickly and naturally. She had played a reasonably competent game and admitted to having played it for a year or so at Primary School. She was offered a place in a team but turned it down from a sense of loyalty to a crestfallen Melanie and Maggie. Melanie was disgusted.

"I hardly touched the ball at all," she said. "I was Goal Defence and the other team was useless. I'm all hot and sweaty and I barely did anything. I did stop them scoring one goal though. How did you get on Maggie?"

"The most impressive thing I did was to trip over my own shoelaces," admitted Maggie. "It's not funny," she said indignantly as Melanie and Lisa roared with laughter. "All the other girls thought I was useless. I probably was too. Tidying the equipment cupboard obviously didn't teach me any netball skills. Never mind," she cheered up; "at least I can enter it in my journal. There are lots of other things we can try to get fit. Let's go to the information centre down town and see what else there is."

"As long as we stop for a drink and an ice-cream on the way," said Lisa. "I feel like a boiled lobster."

"Sounds good to me," agreed Melanie. "Anyway, we said we wanted to meet hunky guys. I didn't notice many of them hanging round the netball courts. The only boys I saw were about six and were waiting for their mothers."

The girls wandered down the main road to the information centre, stopping at the corner dairy on the way. They finished their ice creams on a seat outside it, and only moved hastily away when an old lady informed them that it was a bus stop.

They stood outside the information centre and looked at the notices on the community board. Cars and trucks drove past in a steady stream and the footpath bustled with Saturday morning shoppers.

"Someone wants to buy a lawnmower," said Lisa. "Must be in working order."

"Here's one for babysitting," called out Melanie. "Phone Jody. Hey, I know her. Her sister's in our class. That must be how she can afford those neat clothes she wears. She must earn her money from babysitting."

"We want things to do with exercise," said Maggie firmly, "Look for those."

"How about aqua aerobics for 50 years plus?" giggled Lisa.

"Or what about Sit - Fit for seniors?" suggested Melanie. "Sounds about my style at the moment. My legs hurt from running round the netball court."

"You're not taking this seriously," scolded Maggie. "Hey, here's something we could do. Line dancing."

"You've got to be joking," gasped Lisa. "Dressing up in cowboy hats and boots. Urgh. Not my style thanks."

"But it would be good exercise," insisted Maggie. "Moving to music is fun. Remember when our class did that line dancing with Mrs Meadows a couple of years ago?"

"Yes, and we all loathed it," said Lisa firmly. "The only music she used was Home on the Range and that awful Seth Hardy used to kick me whenever he turned around."

"These are adult classes though, so they should be much better than that."

"I guess guys do it too," said Melanie thoughtfully. "It might not be too bad an idea. When is it on?"

"Thursday night at the Memorial hall at seven o'clock," replied Maggie. "That's the advanced class. The beginners' class is at six but we've already done some line dancing so there is no point going to that one."

"Seven!" wailed Lisa. "But that's when Shortland Street is on. I never miss that."

"You could always video it," pointed out Maggie.

"It's not the same," grumbled Lisa. "Count me out of the line dancing. You two can go without me. Let me know what it's like and if it's any good I'll come along. Maybe."

"Ok" agreed Maggie. "We'll do that. But we need to be fitter. How about if we go for a run each day as training."

"She's trying to kill us," exclaimed Melanie. "Running! I'm down to a slow crawl already and it's not even lunchtime."

"We don't have to start today," said Maggie patiently. "We can go tomorrow night after tea. It's light for hours still. If I run down to your place, Melanie, we can both go to Lisa's and all run from there. We'll go around the rugby field and past the kindergarten and back home again."

Despite her friends' protests Maggie got her way. Lisa and Melanie unwillingly joined her the following night. The rugby field was fringed with houses and the occasional tree cast welcome shade on the girls as they staggered along. Melanie and Lisa looked longingly at the backyards where people sprawled on beach chairs in the shade of trees and children splashed, shrieking, in paddling pools.

"Slow down," groaned Melanie. "Make yourself go slow and steady all the way. If we try to keep this speed up, we'll be dead before we're halfway round."

Maggie obligingly slowed down and had to admit Melanie was right. She felt decidedly tired as they came round the top of the park and was very relieved when Lisa suggested they walk the rest of the way. All three girls were humiliated to see Lisa's younger brother Sam with a couple of his friends running past them effortlessly.

"How did they know we were here?" squealed Melanie crossly.

"I told them," said Lisa wearily. "They said they wanted to get fit as well. They thought it was a great idea."

"They look fairly fit already," said Maggie sadly, as they watched the boys disappearing into the distance. "Never mind, we can only get better. We'll just have to run every day, that's all."

Despite Melanie and Lisa's groans, Maggie got her way.

"My calf muscles feel like concrete," said Melanie accusingly on Thursday evening as Maggie called at her house. "I don't know if this Line Dancing is a good idea, now."

"You'll be fine," encouraged Maggie. "I'm sure it won't be very strenuous."

Maggie could see it now. The world famous line dancing team putting on a special command performance for the kings, queens and presidents of all the major countries. They all watched in awe as Maggie, in a pure white costume ,with fringed leather boots and ten gallon hat, kicked and clapped, encouraging her team as they danced to the country and western song she was singing. A song she had written and composed and recorded as a platinum CD. They couldn't get enough of her.

' _Maggie, you are incredible,' a reporter cried._

' _Oh, it was nothing, really,' said Maggie modestly._

' _When did you start?' the reporters asked her._

' _I first started with my friend Melanie,' she replied with a shy smile. 'But my talent was quickly spotted and I won the Junior World Line Dancing Championship after only six weeks...'_

Maggie's words came back to haunt her as she and Melanie stood in the middle of a line in the town hall. The music was okay, Country and Western with a good beat to it. There was a range of people, from their local butcher to an old lady who helped in the school library.

"Not many hunky guys," whispered Melanie in disappointment.

Then the dancing started. "How hard can it be?" Maggie had said confidently to Melanie. The answer was 'very hard.' The dancers stepped and clapped, stepped and turned, kicked and clapped, all in time to the music. Maggie and Melanie blundered their way through the dance, their feet echoing on the wooden floor.

"I don't know my left from my right," wailed Melanie as she collided for the sixth time with a young mother. Maggie didn't answer. She was trying to avoid being stamped on and kicked by the butcher, whose large boots had already connected painfully with her kneecaps.

"Ouch," she panted. "Ooh," she groaned.

"Move a bit faster, can't you?" complained the butcher. "I have to do a Lindy step there and you are in the way."

"And a one two three kick, one two three turn," called the instructor cheerfully. "Come on you new girls, step to the right, then back, ball change, one two three turn, clap and kick left!"

After six rehearsals of the same dance, they all took a break. As the crowd headed for drink bottles and spilled outside for some cool fresh air, Melanie and Maggie sneaked off.

"Quick, run," said Maggie breathlessly and together the girls fled down the street away from the hall.

They arrived at Lisa's place just as the credits for Shortland Street were rolling on the TV screen.

"How was it?" asked Lisa, as she opened the door for them. "You both look red in the face," she added unsympathetically.

"Awful," said Melanie, pushing past her to flop into an armchair in the living room. "Terrible. I can't even begin to describe it. There are people in this town I can never look in the eye again. I've kicked them, stamped on them and bumped into them."

"It wasn't that bad," protested Maggie.

"Yes it was," insisted Melanie. "Your problem Maggie, is that you've got two left feet. You have no sense of rhythm and line dancing is not, repeat not, a good idea. I'm not going again."

"Perhaps we should have started with the beginner's class after all," Maggie said thoughtfully.

"No!" shrieked Melanie. "I am not even going to try the beginner's class."

"But..." began Maggie.

"Read my lips," said Melanie threateningly, as Lisa snorted with laughter from the couch. "No more line dancing. No way, never, no more. Got it?"

"I guess you're right," agreed Maggie reluctantly. "But we can still go for runs each night to get fit. And there must be lots of other things we can try."

"Oh no," groaned Lisa. "Don't you ever give up?"

"What are you going to make us do next?" inquired Melanie. "Mountain climbing perhaps, or water polo? How about bungy jumping? That's bound to be good for the leg muscles."

Maggie thought for a moment.

"Cricket," she said brightly. "That's what we'll try next. I'll find out about it tomorrow."

Chapter Two

"How are we going to play cricket?" asked Melanie. "The games have been going for ages and it's nearly the end of the season anyway."

"Actually cricket could be quite neat," said Lisa thoughtfully. "I remember what fun it was when we played non-stop cricket at Primary School. Seth and Mike from our class play in a cricket team. We should ask them about it."

"I'll do it tomorrow," said Maggie confidentially.

The next day she approached the boys.

"Melanie and Lisa and I would like to join a cricket team," she said brightly.

"Oh yeah?" said Seth. "Since when have you three girls been interested in cricket?"

"We've decided to get fit so our class gets to go to the snow for a day and we think playing a sport would be a good idea," explained Maggie. "So what do you reckon? Could we play in your team?"

"Get real. We don't have girls in our team," said Mike scornfully.

"Yeah, but hang on a minute," said Seth. "We've got that game against the girls' team on Saturday and they are short a couple of players. We said we'd lend them some so the girls could fill in then. It's not as if it matters, they're not going to win, anyway. They're an all-girl team from that school on the other side of town, next to the handbag factory," he explained to Maggie.

"Yeah, bunch of old bags," sniggered Mike. "You'll fit in really well there."

"Ok, do we need to bring anything?" asked Maggie, scowling at Mike.

"Just a hat and a drink bottle, it gets really hot. You don't have to wear white. A T-shirt and shorts will do, and sneakers or something soft on your feet."

Maggie duly reported this to Melanie and Lisa who received it with mixed degrees of enthusiasm.

"I'm quite looking forward to it," admitted Lisa. "My brother and I watched all the one day tests. Some of those guys can really belt it out of the grounds."

"I've never bothered watching cricket," said Melanie doubtfully. "It always seems a bit pointless to me. I usually chose Rounders when we had to play ball games."

"I'm sure it will be easy," said Maggie confidently. "We all know how to hit a ball with a bat and it won't be nearly as hard as line dancing or netball. The only running is between the wickets so we should be able to lie around and work on our tans most of the day."

Melanie brightened.

"Oh that sounds much better," she said cheerfully. "Count me in."

Saturday morning was clear and hot.

"It's going to be a scorcher," said Maggie looking at the sky. "You'd never think it was nearly autumn. Must be global warming."

The girls walked to the cricket ground where they found groups of girls and boys wandering around throwing balls to each other and practising strokes with a collection of bats.

"There you are," called Seth. "Hey Sarah, here are three members for your team. Meet Sarah, she's in charge."

Sarah turned out to be tall and freckled with a cheerful smile.

"We're batting first," she said, "so you can go and relax in the shade. I've put you three down at nine, ten and eleven."

"Oh, right," said Lisa knowledgeably. "It's the batting order," she explained to the others who were looking at her blankly.

"I thought you had a turn when you hit the batter below the knees," said Maggie.

Lisa stared at her.

"That's French cricket. This is real cricket. There are lots more rules. I can't believe you don't know them. You must go around in a dream most of the time," she said incredulously. "The batter hits the ball then they run between the wickets and swap ends. If the batter goes out someone else takes over. You should know all this. We played it at school last year."

"I had a broken arm, remember?" explained Maggie." I had to watch instead. I read a book most of the time," she admitted candidly.

To Melanie's increasing boredom Lisa insisted on explaining the basic rules of cricket to Maggie.

"You'd better go first and we'll watch you," said Maggie firmly when the call for number nine came.

By this time the girls had scored 45 runs and Mike was disdainfully swinging his arms as he prepared to bowl. Lisa adjusted the pads on her legs and took the helmet proffered by the retiring batter.

"Put those pads on, Melanie. You'll be next. Wish me luck," she called cheerfully and strode onto the field.

Maggie and Melanie watched in admiration as Lisa swung her bat to meet the ball. Ten runs later, the other batter was caught out when she hit a high ball to the side and Melanie protestingly went out to bat.

"I feel like a target out here," she wailed to Lisa.

"Just hit the ball if you can," called Lisa, "and run when I tell you."

To her credit, Melanie managed to hit the ball. She stood there in astonishment as it curved into the air.

"Run," called Lisa, as she started sprinting towards Melanie. Melanie hesitated, not sure if there was enough time before the ball was picked up. Lisa stopped then started running again, calling, "come on!" Melanie began staggering between the wickets.

"Howzat!" There was a triumphant shout as the wicket keeper whipped the bail off the stumps.

"Now look what's happened. You were too slow," shrieked Lisa. "You've made me go out."

"It wasn't my fault," replied Melanie crossly. "You shouldn't have made me run. I wasn't ready."

Lisa gave her an exasperated look and walked back to the pavilion where Maggie was waiting nervously at the side of the field.

"I was really enjoying that," Lisa exclaimed. "I made eighteen runs, and I would have made more if Melanie hadn't got me out by not knowing when to run."

Maggie gulped and walked out to the wicket. Melanie gave her a nervous smile from the other end. Seth ran up and bowled. The ball whistled past Maggie's ear at what felt like 100kph. She stared open-mouthed as the wicket keeper caught the ball in his gloves. Maggie raised the bat again, determined to hit it next time. Seth bowled at her again. Crack!

"Ouch," yelled Maggie. "It hurts."

She dropped the bat and rubbed her hands together. The jolt of the ball hitting the bat had jarred all her arms. The ball shot out to the side and a couple of the boys ran madly after it.

"Run," screamed Melanie, charging down the pitch towards her.

"Oh help," gasped Maggie. She looked wildly around for her bat on the ground.

"Run, quickly," shrieked Melanie.

Maggie panicked and sprinted for the other end. She arrived to see her wickets askew as Seth calmly tossed the ball from hand to hand.

The entire boys' team was convulsed with laughter.

"You're supposed to take your bat with you," the umpire pointed out kindly. "I'm afraid you're out now, anyway."

Maggie and Melanie stamped back to the pavilion and sadly took off their pads. A few minutes later the rest of the team gathered around.

"That was great," said Sarah. "We made 64 runs – one of our best scores ever against a boys' team. Lisa, you batted brilliantly. Everybody have lunch now and afterwards we'll be fielding."

The girls retired to the shade of a tree to eat their picnic lunch.

"Don't look so worried," Sarah said to them as they straggled out on to the field again. "We all have to start sometime. Lisa, can you bowl?"

"Not very well," confessed Lisa.

"What about catching a ball?"

"Oh, I can do that all right. I play heaps of ball games with my Dad and my younger brother."

'"You're silly mid-off then," said Sarah. "Maggie and Melanie, you two spread out to the boundary and try to stop the ball going over the line. If you get it, throw it back to the wicket keeper."

"Right," said Lisa.

"Did you hear what she called Lisa?" asked Maggie in a scandalised whisper as they walked to the edge of the field. "She's not as nice as I thought she was."

"Split up, you two, and stop chatting," called Sarah sternly.

"I'm so hot, I'm melting," said Melanie an hour later. The boys were smashing and walloping the ball all over the field but neither Maggie or Melanie had got anywhere near it.

"How much longer will this go on for?" complained Melanie.

"Until we get them out," called Lisa cheerfully. "Or until they win," she added, which seemed a foregone conclusion. Seth and Mike had decided that as the opening batters they could score the necessary 65 points single handed. Lisa was enjoying herself immensely and was determined to catch Seth out. She watched his batting closely. The next ball came down with Sarah bowling and Seth swung his bat. He sliced the ball high in the air towards her.

"Mine," called Lisa and ran with hands outstretched. To her delight she caught it and screamed with joy as Sarah and the other fielders nearby rushed to congratulate her. Seth scowled and left the field but Mike called 'well done' and most of the spectators clapped. Lisa glowed with pride.

"I'll bet I can do that. It looked easy," thought Maggie.

' _And here's Maggie,' cooed the announcer. 'Thank you for joining us Maggie. We know that as New Zealand's top woman cricketer you must be very busy. Tell me, do you find it hard catching those balls?'_

' _Oh,' said Maggie modestly, 'it's nothing, really. I see the ball hit, calculate its trajectory and place myself where it will intersect with my hands.'_

' _Amazing – and that's not all you're skilled at is it? You are the best batter New Zealand has ever seen. Is it true the men's team have asked you to be their opening batter in the next test against Pakistan?'_

' _Yes, but my loyalty is with the girls. I'm afraid I have to go now. I always try to bowl at least twenty googlies every day before tea...'_

Maggie concentrated on the game again. Before too long, the boy who was batting hit a high ball in Maggie's direction. Maggie and Nancy, a girl from her team, both ran towards it.

"Mine, mine," insisted Maggie and raised her hands to catch the ball. The ball descended into her cupped hands and she gave a cry and dropped it.

"What did you do that for you idiot?" howled Nancy. "I would have caught it."

"It hurt my hands, I wasn't expecting it to be so hard," mumbled Maggie in embarrassment.

Before long the game finished. The boys had won 65 for 1 after only twelve and a half overs.

"We knew that would happen," said Sarah cheerfully. "But when we play the other girls' teams, it's much more even. It's always good practise playing against the boys though."

"Do you have any room in your team?" asked Lisa hopefully.

"Well yes, as it happens, we do," replied Sarah. "One of our members has moved away, that's why we're short today. Two of her friends have gone to help her pack. There are only a few more games this season, though. Do you want to join? We'd love to have you – you have the potential to be really good."

"I'd love to," confessed Lisa and grinned in delight.

"Some of us play during the winter as well," she told Lisa. "We play indoor cricket then. That's good fun as well and keeps us fit for the summer."

Melanie and Maggie felt a bit left out.

"It's just the two of us now," said Maggie, "but don't worry, we'll think of something to do."

"I'll still come on our runs each night," promised Lisa. "I want to get fit for cricket. I really enjoyed it – can't think why I didn't start years ago. Dad's going to be rapt – he's always nagging us kids to come and hit balls round the back yard with him."

"That's cool Lisa," said Melanie sincerely. "I'm really glad you enjoyed it. As for me, I can't wait to get back to flopping on the couch."

"No," said Maggie sternly. "We're not giving up that easily. You know what Mr Marshall always says. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."

"You're not going to make me play cricket again, are you?" begged Melanie.

"Well no," said Maggie regretfully. "We really were no good at it, and I doubt anyone would want us in a team. There must be something else we can do though."

The girls thought about games and sports as they jogged companionably around the rugby field in the cool, late summer evenings.

"The local swimming club is having an open day on Saturday," remarked Melanie. "My cousin belongs to one in her town and she says its brilliant fun. They get days off school to go to competitions and everything. Mind you, she's really good," she added hastily. "She wins prizes and stuff and she trains every morning for two hours before school."

"Wow! Two hours! She must be keen. Can't say I'm really very interested in getting into that," said Lisa.

"Swimming. We could try it. It would be good exercise," said Maggie slowly.

"It would be cold in the winter," objected Lisa.

"They go to the heated pool in town then," said Melanie knowledgeably. "I wouldn't mind having a go. I quite like swimming."

"Right, we'll all go on Saturday," Maggie decided.

"Not me," said Lisa promptly. "I'm playing cricket. It's an away game and a few of the parents are taking us in cars. You two go and tell me about it at school on Monday."

On Saturday morning Maggie and Melanie met at the town pool. This was set in a park down a side street. The towering oak trees cast a pleasant shade and made it a favourite place for family picnics. In the evenings it was one of the main hang-outs for the local teenagers.

"There are lots of neat guys here," Maggie pointed out, as they paid their entrance money and headed for the changing rooms.

"Yeah – wow look at that life guard."

"Well, you're not likely to meet him unless you're drowning," said Maggie severely. You mustn't talk to him, he has to watch the pool at all times."

The girls giggled and went to change into their swimming togs. They came out to see an official looking man, with a whistle hanging from a cord around his neck, taking names.

"We need two more for the relay," he called. "You two, come here, you'll do," he said pointing to Melanie and Maggie.

"Now this is very simple," he explained handing them each a red armband to wear. "You're in the Red team. You stand at one end of the pool and when your team member touches the end you dive in and swim the length of the pool. You can swim, can't you?"

"Yes of course," said Maggie confidently, while Melanie murmured "yes," quietly beside her.

"Ok then, you do the butterfly," he pointed to Maggie, "and you," he pointed to Melanie, "can do the breaststroke length. Any questions? No? Right off you go and line up with the others."

Melanie and Maggie wandered over to the side of the pool to find that their team also consisted of a large, athletic Year Twelve boy called Trent, who Maggie vaguely remembered having seen with her brother, and a small, wiry girl their own age who introduced herself as Shelley.

"I'm doing the backstroke length, that's first," she said. "You'll be after me with the breaststroke, Melanie, then Maggie, you go from the other end. Trent will finish up with the freestyle lap. This is our mixed age relay. There's a prize of movie passes for the winning team. Good luck. Come with me Maggie."

Leaving Trent talking to an excited Melanie, Maggie followed Shelley down to the end of the pool and watched while she jumped into the water and clung to the edge, waiting for the signal to start. A whistle blew and they were off. The air erupted with noise as people cheered on the swimmers, all six of them. Maggie found the excitement infectious and screamed encouragement as Shelley reached the end first and Melanie dived in. The Yellow team caught up on that round, and the two swimmers touched the end at the same time as Maggie flopped in. The water was so cold she came up gasping. Maggie knew she had to do butterfly stroke but she had only a vague idea of how it was done. She watched her competitors set off with flailing arms and much splashing and tried to remember swimming races she had seen on TV when the Olympics and Commonwealth games were held. Maggie found that by keeping her head down and turning her arms like a windmill she was moving through the water. Unfortunately she couldn't see where she was going, as the water splashed into her eyes and stung them, so she kept them tightly closed. She gasped for breath and kept swimming. She could hear the hollow noise of the crowed screaming as the water splashed around her ears and she was sure she must be winning. She struck out more confidently.

"It can't be long now," she thought. "I've been swimming for ages. I never knew a swimming pool was so long before. I must be getting closer." She heard the cheering louder and louder. "Wow, they must be cheering me," she thought proudly. Finally, with one last gasping breath, her outflung fingers touched the side of the pool. Thankfully she opened her eyes and looked up to see Melanie peering down at her.

"Maggie," cried Melanie. "You've gone the wrong way."

"What?" replied Maggie. "I don't understand."

"You went around in a big circle," said Melanie in exasperation "What's more, you took so long the race is over. Poor Trent didn't even make it into the water. Shelley isn't too thrilled with me either, because I accidentally kicked her in the face when I dived in."

Drooping with disappointment, Maggie climbed out and dripped miserably over to the seats beside the pool. "I'm sorry," she apologised to Trent and Shelley.

"Forget it," said Trent loftily. "I have."

"It doesn't matter," said Shelley through gritted teeth, forcing a smile. "Why don't you go over to the diving pool and try your luck there."

Maggie brightened.

"No Maggie," hissed Melanie. "Why don't we go home now. Swimming is evidently not the sport for you."

"But diving might be," said Maggie, optimistically.

Accompanied by a protesting Melanie she marched over to the diving pool and entered the diving competition.

"High or low?" asked the bored young woman organising the entrants.

"High please," said Maggie firmly, ignoring Melanie's gasp.

"Well, I'm not entering. I'm going to watch. Though what fun it will be seeing you stuff this up, I really don't know," Melanie informed her. "Have you ever dived?"

"Yes," replied Maggie. Well it was almost true. She'd jumped in off the side of her cousin's pool at Christmas time and that was like diving wasn't it? And hadn't she just dived into the pool for her race? If anyone criticised her dive she could say it was a new style. Anyway it couldn't be hard. In front of her in the line were two skinny little kids and if they could do it then she certainly could. She tightened the band holding her wet hair back and dreamed about winning. Just think of Nick's face if she came home with a cup.

Imagine going to the Olympics and diving for New Zealand – swooping through the air like a swallow before straightening to enter the water without a splash. The crowd would go wild; people would ask her for her autograph.

Here is young Maggie Johnson, New Zealand's entry in the woman's Olympic Diving Competition. She is about to perform the famous dive she invented– the Stellar Starfish. The crowd is cheering and flashbulbs are popping as she climbs the ladder, her long tanned legs showing the muscles that have made her a champion in so many sports. Now she launches herself into the air. The crowd gasps at her skill as she enters the water.

' _Maggie, that is the most amazing dive I have ever seen.'_

' _Oh, it's nothing, really.'_

' _Do you know that you have single handed made diving the most popular sport in New Zealand. Every town is rushing to build more diving pools and I see you are now bringing out your own swimsuit range. Whatever will you think of next?'_

"Next please," a stern voice interrupted Maggie's daydream. She looked up to see the skinny little boy above her on the diving board as he leapt off into a perfect pike before entering the water like an arrow. Maggie quickly climbed the ladder and walked to the end of the board. It was very high up. Much higher than she had imagined. She could see the roofs of the houses in the street beside the pool complex. Down, far away down below her, the water looked cold and uninviting.

"Hurry up, are you going to dive or aren't you?" the next competitor called impatiently.

"This is it – now or never. Watch out world. Here comes the Stellar Starfish." Maggie threw her arms sideways and flung herself headfirst off the diving board. A short, a very short time later, she heard a crack and felt a blow like an elephant charging as she hit the water flat on her belly. Maggie couldn't breathe, she couldn't move. She was suffocating; she was drowning. She gave a feeble wave of her arms then felt herself jerked roughly from the pool.

The dizziness gradually receded as she heard the lifeguard saying,

"Don't worry, she's only winded. What a humungous belly flop," he added as he saw Maggie trying to talk.

Ignoring her gasps he gave her a hearty pat on the back and strode off back to his lookout seat.

"Maggie," said Melanie in concern, "are you okay? I thought you were going to die. You didn't come up, and that lifeguard dived in and saved you."

Maggie lay on the tiles wishing she was dead. She felt as if she had landed on the concrete instead of in the water. She closed her eyes again and moaned as she tried to pull some air into her labouring lungs.

"How do you feel?" asked Melanie, as Maggie finally opened her eyes and shakily sat up.

"Wet," quavered Maggie. "I don't think diving is the right sport for me," she continued, "I want to go home."

"You'd better rest for a while first," said Melanie, and handed Maggie her towel. She gave a giggle. "Actually it looked pretty amazing. Everyone said they had never seen a dive like that before. What on earth did you think you were doing?"

"The Stellar Starfish," replied Maggie promptly and dissolved into giggles. "I think it's one of those once in a lifetime dives," she spluttered. "No one will ever see it again."

"You're completely crazy," said Melanie "I don't know why I put up with you. Come on, I'll buy you a coke and we'll watch the divers – the other divers."

That night, after she had written up her journal, Maggie phoned Melanie. They had decided not to go for a run as Maggie was still feeling waterlogged from her swim and Melanie had pointed out that they had both exercised by swimming anyway.

"Hey, Melanie," said Maggie excitedly, "I've had a really brilliant idea. Why don't we try roller blading?"

Chapter Three

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"Are you there Melanie?" asked Maggie.

"Roller blading," exploded Melanie. "Have you actually got any rollerblades Maggie?"

"There's an old pair of my brother's lying around somewhere," said Maggie cheerfully. "We could take turns. Or hang on, I've got a better idea. Let's go to the roller rink. They hire out skates and things there."

"Well I guess so." Melanie sounded doubtful.

"Oh come on, it'll be fun. What say we go tomorrow afternoon? I'll give Lisa a ring and see if she wants to come too."

"All right," agreed Melanie, "but I hope I don't regret it."

Lisa had homework to catch up on, so it was only Maggie and Melanie who went to the roller rink behind the shopping centre. Sunday afternoons were loosely organised with a few games and races along with free time for skating. Large speakers attached to the clubhouse boomed out music and as well as the usual teenagers, tiny children tottered around with the support of their parents.

"Where are the skates?" asked Melanie.

Maggie looked embarrassed.

"They were far too big for either of us. Nick must have the largest feet in the universe. And the smelliest. Anyway, they hire skates here so we can get ones that fit properly. I brought enough money for us both."

"Okay, I used to skate quite a bit when I was little so I hope I'm not too rusty. How about you?"

"Um, I'm sure it will be easy," said Maggie.

She pictured herself gliding across a spot-lit rink, dressed in a turquoise leotard draped with flowing silky petals. Soft music throbbed and built to a crescendo as Maggie spun in a tight circle before launching into a series of jumps – tuck, pike and split. With each leap the audience applauded, rising to their feet for a standing ovation as the music died away and Maggie bowed to them. A hail of roses fell around her as she kissed her fingertips to the crowd...

"Maggie! I've asked you twice, what shall we get, roller blades or skates?"

"Let's try blades," said Maggie. The girls paid their money at the clubhouse window and told a bored young man their shoe size. He handed over two pair of rollerblades and Maggie led the way to a wooden bench beside the rink. There the girls laced up their boots and wobbled uncertainly to the rink, clutching at the railing.

"Ooh, these are a bit different from skates," said Melanie. "You have to balance on the middle bit."

"Mm," replied Maggie.

"Look, I can still do it," said Melanie happily "Come on Maggie give it a go." She pushed off into the stream of people skating around the rink.

Maggie tried to move. Her ankles wobbled and felt strange. Her feet tipped first to one side then the other – both at different times.

"This can't be hard," she thought. "Some of those kids skating are only kindergarten age. If they can do it then I must be able to."

Taking a deep breath she pushed off from the rail with both hands. Maggie concentrated on holding her body steady as she glided across the smooth surface of the rink.

"Hey, this is fun," she thought. "Oh dear." Her feet began to slide apart. Further and further they stretched until she was nearly doing the splits. With a despairing wail Maggie sat down hard on the cold concrete.

"Ouch," she said in surprise. She tried to stand up but her feet slid around as the skate wheels spun merrily beneath her. Finally she reverted to hands and knees and crawled to the edge of the rink where she staggered thankfully to the handrail.

"I'll try holding on for a while," she thought.

Maggie pulled herself around the rink, with feet and ankles wobbling as she went. Eventually she felt brave enough to try skating on her own again. She took a tentative step away from the rail and immediately collided with a small boy who was skating past backwards.

"Watch where you're going," he called derisively, as he leaped to his feet and skated off.

"Ow." Maggie moaned as she inspected her skinned knees. She made her way over to a seat beside the rink where she took off the roller blades with a relieved sigh.

"Maggie what are you doing? This is fantastic fun. Come on, put your blades on again and I'll help you skate."

"Um, no thanks," said Maggie hastily. "But you go ahead, Melanie. I'm really enjoying watching everybody," she lied.

"Ok, if you're sure you don't mind," grinned Melanie. "Sandra and Annie are here too and we're going to enter the speed race. Are you sure you don't want to come?"

"I'm fine thanks," said Maggie trying to sound cheerful. "I'll cheer you on." She bit her lip as she felt her bruised backside complaining about the hard seat.

Melanie joined the group of young teenagers lining up for the speed race. The organiser cleared the rink and explained the rules. It was very simple. Eight circuits in an anticlockwise direction with the first person to finish winning a box of chocolates and an entry ticket into the rink for six months. Maggie watched as the organiser blew his whistle to signal the start, then ran into the middle of the rink to keep an eye on the competitors. Round the corner the skaters came in a tight bunch. Maggie cheered as they shot past her and round the other side. She could see Melanie bent almost double, hands clasped behind her back, looking very professional. Round they flashed again and Maggie concentrated on the red sweatshirt Melanie was wearing. The man in the control box began a commentary.

"Blondie's in front now," he called as a large fair-haired boy zipped into the lead. Behind him a bunch of five other skaters followed closely while the rest of the pack began to spread out. Around for the fifth time. Melanie was in the first five now as they sped along. Maggie could see that those on the inside had an advantage as they didn't have so far to go, but to overtake they had to go to the outside. One of the leading bunch cut in too far and crossed the painted line on the rink.

"You in the blue T-shirt, you're eliminated," called the commentator, at a signal from the organiser, Annie scowled and skidded to a stop in the centre.

"Come on Melanie," yelled Maggie as they came around. The sixth circuit now and Melanie was third. As they entered the seventh circuit she passed the boy in front of her to get into second place. Some of the slower skaters had pulled into the centre and stopped. By now all the crowd was cheering.

"Come on Red, come on Red," they encouraged Melanie.

"Go for it Zach," they called as the large fair-haired lad glanced back over his shoulder.

Maggie jumped up and down screaming. She forgot her bruises and sore knees in the excitement.

"Come on Melanie," she cried. It was the eighth circuit and the final straight. Melanie put on a spurt of speed and came alongside Zach. As they flashed past the finish line, they were so close Maggie couldn't tell who had won. There was a round of applause as Melanie and Zach panted to a stop and leaned on the railings grinning. The organiser conferred with the man in the control room then announced the winner.

"That was a real photo finish," he said. "We've decided to call it a dead heat. Two equal winners. Zach and Melanie will each get a free six month pass – but they'll have to share the chocolates." He presented a laughing Melanie with the box saying "Ladies first."

"You can have them all," said Zach happily. "Man what a race. You're good. Have you raced often?"

"Actually it's my first time on blades," confessed Melanie. "But it felt fantastic."

"You're seriously good," said Zach in admiration. "Why don't you come along on Tuesday after school? We have speed training sessions then."

"Oh wow! I'd love to. I'll have to talk my parents into getting me my own blades," said Melanie joyfully. "I'm sure they won't mind giving me an early birthday present. I've got to tell Maggie."

Melanie chattered excitedly all the way home about roller blading and Zach. After the fifteenth 'Zach says,' Maggie sighed.

"Well, I think it's great that you're going to do roller blading and Lisa is really enjoying her cricket, but I haven't found a sport yet that suits me."

"I'm sure something will turn up," said Melanie sympathetically. "You have so many good ideas."

Maggie went running on her own for the next few nights. Melanie waved at her as she ran past. She was practising roller blading up and down her driveway, after having nagged her parents to buy her blades of her own. Lisa was hanging around with a group of kids, boys and girls from the neighbourhood, who practised cricket in every available moment.

"I'm getting pretty good at this running," thought Maggie "I wonder if that's a possibility."

"Dad," she asked at breakfast the next day, "what's a sport that involves a lot of running?"

Her father looked surprised.

"Well, most sports use running, I suppose," he said thoughtfully. "There's running in hockey, soccer, rugby and cricket. You have to be quick on your feet for tennis or badminton and squash of course. Why?"

"Oh, no reason," said Maggie casually.

"If you want to run," said Nick, "why don't you enter the cross country? It's on next week."

"I thought it was only for Seniors," said Maggie.

"Nope," replied her brother. "Anyone can enter. Daniel and I are going into it. We get the whole afternoon off school, so it's worth it. But you probably wouldn't even make it to the first checkpoint."

"I would so," cried Maggie indignantly.

"Yeah, on a stretcher," retorted Nick.

"Settle down you two," said their father. "There's no reason Maggie shouldn't enter if she wants to, but it's a very long way," he warned.

"No problem," said Maggie airily. "I'm probably fitter than Nick. All he does is stuff his face." Nick kicked her under the table.

"Well Miss Smarty-pants, as it so happens Daniel and I are training in the school gym every afternoon."

"Well I'm running every night so that has to be worth something," said Maggie furiously.

When she arrived at school, she stormed to the gym and confidently entered her name on the list for the cross-country.

"I'll show them," she thought. "They'll be sorry they laughed at me when I win."

' _And here's Maggie, coming up to the winning post now. And she'_ s _across \- no, wait. She's stopping and going back. Ah, look. She's helping her older brother by giving him her arm to lean on. What sportsmanship! What a girl! Not only a brilliant athlete, but compassionate as well. Look! Now she's carrying him on her shoulders. Here she comes up to the winning post. Oh what a wonderful display of selflessness. She is putting her brother down so he can cross the finish line beside her._

Tell me Maggie, how does it feel to be the winner?'

Maggie smiled modestly.

' _Oh,' she said, 'it was nothing, really.'_

' _Listen to the crowd calling and cheering. Maggie! Maggie!'_

"Maggie!"

"What?" Maggie blinked as Lisa shook her shoulder.

"What are you doing? You've entered the cross-country race. That's for Seniors."

"No, it's not," said Maggie indignantly. "Anyone can enter."

"Yes, anyone can, but only idiots would," said Lisa incredulously. "Do you realise how far it is?"

"It's okay, I'm in training. I'm very fit." Maggie smiled at her. Lisa shook her head in amazement and gave her a pitying look as they went off to their Maths class.

Maggie decided to increase her training. She ran around the rugby field as usual then jogged down the end of the street and back before collapsing on her bed.

"It's normal to feel puffed after a run," she told herself. "I'm very fit. Nick is going to be surprised when I win. I can hardly wait."

Thursday afternoon came around quickly. Maggie felt her heart sink as she lined up at the starting point on the back field of the school. All the other runners were seniors. They wore proper running shoes and carried water bottles in pouches at their waists. The PE teacher looked at Maggie doubtfully.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked her.

"Yes," replied Maggie firmly. "I'm not the only girl," she thought. There were at least three others. All of them looked strong and fit with long tanned legs. Maggie looked at her own shorts and T-shirt with the large number three pinned to the back.

"You must pass each checkpoint," Mr Smith called out. "A teacher will tick your number off as you go. The first one back will win, but only if they have gone past all the points in the correct order. Good luck. Go!"

He fired a starting pistol. Maggie jumped at the noise, then ran along after the group of runners. By the time they had reached the corner of the field she was out of breath.

"They're running fast to show off," she thought. "They'll slow down as soon as we're out of sight of the school." No such luck. Feet pounded and cheery comments rang out as the pack surged ahead. Maggie plodded along behind. Her daily runs now seemed very insignificant compared with this.

"I'm going to finish," she said determinedly, "even if I can't win. Perhaps they'll slow down later on, or stop for a rest like the story of the hare and the tortoise. Then I will run past laughing." She didn't feel much like laughing at the moment. She could feel a blister starting on her heel and her face felt bright red with heat. Maggie approached the first checkpoint. She could see the other runners far ahead of her and the teacher at the checkpoint was packing up his folding seat and clipboard.

"Number 3. Well done Maggie, keep it up," he encouraged her. Maggie smiled weakly and put on a spurt of speed. She could not see any of the other runners now but knew that they had to cross a neighbouring farm. Doubtfully she paused at the gate. Right or left, which way should she go?

"If I was an Indian or an Aborigine, I could follow the footprints," she thought, but the ground was hard and dry and there were no signs that thirty-seven runners had been in either direction.

"I'll go left," decided Maggie, and set off down the track. It was cool and peaceful here, as the track led through a stand of trees and down a small gully to a pebbly stream. Maggie stopped at the steam and splashed cold water on her hot face. She thought about having a drink but decided the water was probably not clean enough. She ran through the water and up the gully on the other side. Her sneakers went 'squelch' as she hit the ground and felt wet and heavy on her feet. Maggie followed the track at a slow jog and went through another gate, carefully shutting it behind her. Before she had gone more than a few steps, a loud bellow sounded behind her. Jumping in fright she spun around to see a large horned cow walking towards her.

"Help," gulped Maggie. "I hope it's friendly. Nice cow, good cow," she said soothingly as she moved hastily away. The cow came closer and started to run behind her. "What if it's a bull?" thought Maggie in panic. She sprinted across the field, hearing the 'splat' 'squelch' of her sneakers and the thunder of hooves hitting the ground hard on her heels. Reaching the fence on the far side of the paddock, Maggie dived through the wires and landed in a large cowpat on the other side.

"Urk," she said in disgust, picking up handfuls of grass that she used to wipe herself down. The beast, Maggie still wasn't sure if it was a bull, stopped at the fence and tossed its head at her, snorting through large nostrils. Maggie climbed to her feet and dismally kept walking. She was all run out now. Her legs felt like two wobbly sticks of jelly with wet lumps of lead for feet. Her T-shirt was sticking to her body with sweat and she smelt strongly of cow muck.

"I'm not enjoying this," Maggie admitted to herself. "But I'm still going to finish the race." Slowly she plodded along. She left the farm and dragged her tired body along the street leading to the school. There was no sign of any other runners. All she saw was a passing motorist who stared at her and a small boy playing on a tricycle in his front yard.

"You're all dirty," he informed her as she walked tiredly past. "My mummy makes me have a bath when I get dirty. Are you going to have a bath?"

"I expect so," croaked Maggie. Her mouth was dry and her tongue felt swollen to twice its normal size. She wished she'd brought a water bottle like the other runners.

"I won't give up, I won't give up," she muttered and kept walking. As she turned in past the school gate she passed crowds of students going home.

"School must have finished," she thought in dismay. "I'd better go and get ticked off at the end." Maggie made her way to the back field and looked for Mr Smith the PE teacher. He was nowhere to be seen, but Lisa and Melanie came running up.

"What happened to you, Maggie? You're all filthy," cried Lisa. "You smell terrible."

"The race finished ages ago," said Melanie. "They thought you must have gone home because you missed the last three checkpoints."

"I got lost," said Maggie simply. "Then there was a bull, at least, I think it was a bull. But I finished the race," she said proudly.

"Yes, well, you actually didn't even do most of it," Lisa pointed out. "But you're back now, so let's go home."

"Good idea," said Maggie thankfully. "Cross country running is definitely not my sport."

She thought for a few minutes "I've got a brilliant idea," she said triumphantly. "I think I'll learn table tennis."

Chapter Four

"Table tennis might be fun," conceded Lisa doubtfully. "But I don't know anyone who plays it."

"Nick goes sometimes with his friend Daniel. Daniel's father is an A grade player and he runs a Friday night session for kids. Daniel's really good at it and Nick did it for a while but he gave it up. He's got a bat though, so I'm sure I can borrow it."

Nick burst into laughter when Maggie asked to borrow his table tennis bat.

"Sure you can borrow it," he spluttered. "But it's harder than it looks, you know."

"I have to start somewhere" sniffed Maggie, and Friday night saw her arriving at the church hall with Daniel and his father.

"You can help us set the tables up," Daniel said, and showed Maggie how to tighten the nets with clamps onto the edges of each table.

"What do you want to do Maggie?" Daniel's father asked. "Do you want to watch tonight, or have a go?"

"Have a go, please," said Maggie confidently.

"Ok, we'll give you a turn at hitting around with another beginner first, then you can have a try in a doubles game if we need you to make up the numbers. You'll have to wait a while though, while the regular players have their warm up games."

Maggie sat at the side of the hall and watched as the club members arrived. She recognised some of them. Chan, who was a friend of Lisa's brother Sam, and Francis, a girl she had played with for a while at primary school. They both gave her a cheerful wave as she sat and watched.

"I'm sure this will be easy," Maggie thought as she watched the game at the table beside her.

' _And now we come to the last game between Sun Rise, the reigning world champion from China, and Maggie Johnson, the exciting new talent from New Zealand. Maggie's rise in the table tennis world has been meteoric. Seldom has anyone before seen such lightning reflexes. She plays in a completely unique style and her smashing serve has already been nicknamed the 'Maggie'. Her fans are all wearing T-shirts with her photo printed on them and table tennis clubs all over the country report an upsurge in the number of players. It is rumoured that Maggie has been asked to tour China as a special guest of the Emperor. We believe he has sent her fabulous gifts including a golden box set with precious stones to keep her table tennis bat in._

She's about to make her final serve. The score is twenty - nil. Can she make it a clean sweep? Yes. She's wiped the floor with Sun Rise. He's bravely shaking her hand, but his aged mother is weeping in the background. Sun Rise needed this money to buy her a new pig and save her from starvation. But wait – Maggie is turning down the money.'

' _I have enough,' she said simply. 'Please give the prize money to my valiant opponent.' She turned a sweet smile on Sun Rise..._

"I said, are you ready Maggie?"

Maggie started then smiled at Chan's little brother Lee who was standing beside her. He looked about four years old and turned hopeful brown eyes on her.

'They said you were a beginner as well, so will you play with me?"

"Of course," said Maggie kindly. They moved to an empty table and Lee passed her one of the bats he was holding.

"I'll hit the ball to you and you try to hit it back," instructed Maggie. Lee nodded importantly and Maggie bounced the ball on the table before hitting it over the net. Immediately Lee's bat shot out and the ball whizzed back at Maggie. She gasped and swung wildly at it, missing it completely.

"Wow, that was a lucky shot," she gasped.

"Do it again," demanded Lee, as Maggie chased after the ball to retrieve it from the end of the hall. Maggie carefully hit the ball again and this time she managed to return it when Lee hit it. Unfortunately it bounced beyond the table so this time Lee had to chase after it. They hit back and forth for a while – that is, Maggie managed a few feeble trickles of the ball while Lee smashed it, sliced it and spun it past her in every direction.

"How long have you been playing?' she asked in admiration.

"Three months," replied Lee, concentrating fiercely on the ball. "I'm not good enough to play against the others yet so I need lots of practise."

"Oh," said Maggie feebly. "Were all young children like this?" she wondered.

She made a great effort and managed to get five shots over in a row before Lee slammed the ball onto the table. The ball bounced up and hit her on the cheek, with a sharp stinging pain.

"Ow,' cried Maggie, dropping her bat to clutch her cheek.

"Sorry," called Lee. "Are you still going to play with me?"

"Perhaps later," mumbled Maggie as she rushed to the Ladies toilets to splash water on her red face.

Daniel's father called to Maggie as she came back into the hall.

"Do you want to play a game of doubles, Maggie? You can be my partner and we'll play against Daniel and James."

"Um, sure," she said. "What do I do?"

"Well, its doubles, so basically we take turns at hitting the ball. The main thing to remember is to get out of each other's way. You can serve to start."

"Er, how do I serve?" Maggie asked shyly.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I thought young Lee would have showed you what to do. Just hit the ball so that it bounces on the table in front of you and goes diagonally over the net onto the table on the other side. You have five serves to James."

James, a tall gangling Year Eleven boy, waited patiently as Maggie served to him. The first time she was so nervous that she swiped at the ball and missed. The second time she actually hit the ball but hit the edge of the table at the same time with her bat.

"Don't worry, Maggie. You're doing fine. We all had to start sometime," Daniel's father told her encouragingly.

Her next serve bounced across the net to James who slammed it back. The ball travelled across the net at what appeared to Maggie to be the speed of light. She forgot to move back in time and collided heavily with Daniel's father as he tried to return James' shot. After that they fell into a pattern and Maggie even returned a few balls after Daniel and James were told off for hitting the ball too hard at a beginner. The boys rolled their eyes at each other and made a point of hitting soft little shots to Maggie before gleefully slamming them at Daniel's father who would casually spin them back.

Eventually, to Maggie's relief, Daniel and James came round the table to shake her hand.

"Thanks for the game," they said.

Maggie looked at Daniel's father.

"Is it over already? What's the score? Did we win?"

"No. We lost 21 – 12," said Daniel's father with a wry grin. "Look, why don't you go over to that table in the corner and practise with Chan and his brother." Maggie gulped.

"Er, I think I'll go and sit down for a while. It's much more fun watching than playing," she added, trying to sound convincing.

Daniel and James were obviously relieved by this decision and went on to smash the ball at every opponent from then on.

"Do you want to play in the handicap game?" Daniel's father asked her later on. "You'd have more chance there, as the others will all have huge handicaps and you won't have any."

'No thanks," said Maggie firmly. Much as she hated to agree that Nick had been right, she could see that table tennis was not her scene. She wandered into the entry foyer and read the notices on the board there.

'Helpers for Meals on Wheels wanted.'

"Melanie could do that," she thought. "She can skate really well now. I wonder how many meals she would have to carry at a time?"

'Puppies free to good home,' caught her eye, but she reflected gloomily that her parents would never allow it. The only pet they had was a geriatric cat named Smokey who spent most of the time lying in a patch of sunlight at the front door or else sneaking in to sleep on Nick's bed.

"They're not likely to let me get a puppy" sighed Maggie. "I wonder what else there is?"

She saw with interest that one lady saved stamps for savages. "I wonder what they do with them?" Another wanted wool for knitting toys for accident victims. A small notice at the bottom of the board had her boredom change instantly to excitement.

'Mountain biking, 'it said. 'Those interested, turn up at the end of McDonald Road on Saturday at 2 p.m. Junior, Intermediate and Senior category races. Gold coin entry.'

"Wow!" thought Maggie. "Biking. I can do that. I've been riding a bike since I was seven years old. I've even got a bike and a helmet. And it's not expensive, only one or two dollars. This might be just the sport for me. I could be really good at it."

Her excitement helped her to smile at Daniel and cheerfully put away the tables and equipment.

"I'm sorry it wasn't a very interesting evening for you," Daniel's father said in a friendly way.

"That's okay," said Maggie sincerely. "I'm very glad I came." She beamed at Daniel's father. Daniel gave her an odd look but didn't say anything. Maggie hugged herself in excitement as she sat in the back seat of the car. Wait until she told Melanie and Lisa. Mountain biking. Wow. She knew she would be really good at it. She could see it all now.

' _Here is Maggie, the world famous mountain biker. Maggie – how does it feel to be the first to bike to the top of Mt Everest?'_

' _It was nothing,' said Maggie modestly._

' _What was the hardest part?'_

' _When my back tyre blew. I had to blow it up myself, as the pump had fallen off, then mend the hole with chewing gum.'_

' _And what plans do you have now?'_

' _I'm thinking of cycling around the world and spreading the message to all countries – Exercise is good for you.'_

"Here you go," said Daniel's father dropping Maggie off at her gate. "Do you want to come again?"

"No thanks, but thanks for tonight." Maggie rushed inside. "Mum, Mum, can I go mountain biking tomorrow?"

Her mother looked surprised.

"How was the table tennis. Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, no, it doesn't matter," said Maggie impatiently. "I want to go mountain biking. Please can I?"

"I suppose so" agreed her mother doubtfully. "Do you think your bike will stand it? I thought the tyres were flat."

"I'll pump them up in the morning," said Maggie recklessly. "That's great, thanks Mum. I'll phone Lisa and Melanie and see if they want to come. Oh, I forgot. Lisa's got cricket and Melanie's probably skating with Zach again."

"I'll come with you," said Nick casually.

"You?" Maggie stared at her brother in astonishment. "You don't go anywhere with me. You said I'd be dead if I ever went near you in public. You pretend I don't even exist."

Nick laughed

"It's not that bad," he said. "But I'm quite keen to give mountain biking a go. How about if I give you a hand to fix your bike then we go together."

"Great," said Maggie. "I can hardly wait until tomorrow."

It took Maggie two hours the next morning to get Nick up and ready to work on her bike.

"You said you'd help me," she reminded him.

"Yes I know, but I didn't think you'd drag me out of bed at the crack of dawn to do it," Nick grumbled.

"It's nearly half past nine," exclaimed Maggie. "If I'd let you sleep in, you wouldn't have got up until lunchtime."

"Sounds good to me," grunted Nick, but he obligingly overhauled Maggie's bike for her, pumping up the tyres and oiling the chain and pedals.

"There you go. All in working order," he said cheerfully, and began to check over his own bike.

"Do you use all those gears?" asked Maggie. Her bike didn't have gears at all and the brakes worked by pedalling backwards.

"Only one at a time," said Nick.

They set off for McDonald Road together after lunch, Maggie in a fever of impatience.

"Slow down," Nick advised her. "You'll need all your energy for the ride."

They rode until the surface went from tarseal to gravel and eventually ended in a bumpy dirt area beside the bush. A large number of children and adults were standing around beside parked cars and bicycles, talking excitedly to each other. Snatches of conversation reached Maggie's ears as she and Nick found a clear space to dismount.

"How did you do last weekend?"

"That humping Nellie is a fair cow to go over."

"Thought I'd never reach the saddle."

"Did you hear about Jason? Busted his leg in two places."

Finally a red-faced man in a bright green checked shirt called everyone over to him.

"Right," he said, "give your names to Polly, here." He indicated a slightly anxious looking woman in jeans and a blue sweatshirt. "The juniors first, that's up to twelve. Intermediates are twelve to fourteen then seniors all the rest. There are three courses marked so make sure you follow your own course. We don't want you mucking up the other groups."

Everyone slowly filed past Polly giving his or her name. Maggie was told she was Intermediate. "That's the blue route, dear. Make sure you follow the blue markers." Nick had spotted a group of friends and was standing talking to them, pointedly ignoring Maggie. Maggie looked around and saw a piece of tin marked with a splat of blue paint tied to a tree branch. She took her bike over beside it and watched the other Intermediates lining up. There were sixteen of them, mainly boys, with a few athletic looking girls. Maggie noticed that they all had bikes like Nick's with gears. Most had drink bottles strapped to the cross bar and the kids themselves wore old jeans and sweatshirts. They all seemed to know each other and Maggie wondered if she was the only beginner.

The man in the green checked shirt came over to start them off.

"Follow the markers," he said. "Best of luck. The track loops around and comes out further down the road. See you all later. Go!" he shouted and the children leapt on their bikes and rode off down the track.

"I'll stay at the front," thought Maggie, but found that the track soon grew steeper as it climbed the hill. One by one the rest of the intermediates passed Maggie as she laboured slowly up the slope. Fortunately it was only a brief climb then she was swooping down a narrow winding path.

"Aah," yelled Maggie as she came to a corner. Her bike wouldn't turn in time and she slid off into the bushes. "Well that wasn't too bad," she gasped breathlessly. "In fact it was fun," she told herself sternly. Riding on again she came to another steep climbing part. This time she had to get off her bike and push it. "I don't know how all the others managed this," she thought. "I know I'm going the right way because that blue marker is right ahead of me." Reaching the top she rode along again in a series of swooping curves then suddenly the track came over the brow of a hill and she saw what looked like a vertical drop below her.

"Ohh," yelled Maggie as her bike hurtled downwards and hit a large rock on the track. She catapulted neatly over the handlebars, biting her tongue hard in the process. Picking herself up gingerly, she reassured herself that nothing was actually broken and wobbled down the hill, keeping a foot trailing on the ground to slow herself down. A huge slushy mud puddle at the bottom brought her skidding to a stop. As she trod hard on the brakes, the bike slewed around and she slipped with a scream to land right in the worst of the puddle.

Maggie decided at this point to give biking one more try. She climbed on again, only to find that her back tyre was completely flat. Grumbling to herself, she pushed her bike the rest of the way, feeling extremely hot and dirty. She arrived at the end of the track to find the others sitting around and laughing about their ride. Maggie collapsed thankfully onto the grass beneath a scrubby manuka and waited for another half-hour until Nick came out.

"Wow, that was a blast," he said. "I haven't had so much fun for ages. You should have seen the view from the top of the ridge. Hey what's up?"

"My tyre's flat," complained Maggie, rubbing her leg where it had been scratched by the bushes.

One of Nick's friends bent down and unclipped a pump from his crossbar.

"Here, have a go with this," he called as he tossed it to her.

"Thanks," mumbled Maggie, and pumped up the tyre with what felt like the entire population of the world watching.

"Thanks," she said again, handing the pump back. "See you at home Nick." Wearily she dragged her protesting muscles back onto the bike and started the ride home.

"It was kind of fun," she thought, "but I don't think mountain biking is the right thing for me, even if I did have a proper bike for it. I'll stick to biking round the streets from now on, and I'm definitely going to have a long bath when I get home."

On the phone to Melanie that night, Maggie described her experiences.

"Sounds awful," said Melanie. "What are you going to try next?"

Maggie thought for a moment.

"I think I'll try judo," she said.

Chapter Five

Maggie's plans to learn judo were thwarted by her mother.

"No," she said firmly in answer to Maggie's request. "I will not pay for judo lessons."

"But I might be good at it, Mum. It would be really good exercise," pleaded Maggie.

"If its exercise you want, you can mow the lawns for me," said her mother unsympathetically. "But you are not going to judo lessons."

"Why not?" whined Maggie.

"Remember Highland dancing?" said her mother. "And banjo lessons and cooking classes and the Junior Conservation Course? The most you ever went to any of those was three times. And each time you decided to give it up when I'd paid the whole year's subscription."

"That was when I was little," muttered Maggie. "I've grown up now."

"No." said her mother. "I don't mind if it's a team sport run by the school or a local club, at least that's close, but for Judo I'd have to drive into the city twice a week."

"Are you still on your keep fit kick?" asked Nick teasingly. "What about the great cross-country runner? Aren't you going to keep that up? There's an iron man competition on in the city next weekend – you'd only have to run up the mountain. You already biked up and fell down most of it in the weekend."

Maggie scowled at him.

"There must be some sport that suits me," she complained.

"Why don't you try hockey?" asked her mother. "I used to play on the wing when I was at school. It was great fun. I've still got my old stick and boots in the cupboard somewhere. I even kept my old skirt."

Maggie brightened. Hockey. That was a good idea. She could see it now.

' _And now we are interviewing Maggie Johnson the New Zealand woman's hockey captain. She has just led her team to Olympic gold and she is only 13 years of age. Maggie, you were very impressive in this game. You beat Zimbabwe 7-6 and you scored every goal for New Zealand.'_

' _Oh, it was nothing,' said Maggie modestly. 'The credit should go to my team mates who all worked together for this tremendous achievement.'_

' _You were amazing Maggie. I know the whole country was watching you when you ran forward to score the last goal with a broken ankle. Didn't it cause you extreme pain?'_

' _I ignored the pain. My country's honour was at stake. After all, the Olympics doesn't happen every day. It's a time when women of every creed and race gather to defend New Zealand.'_

' _May we photograph you with your gold medal Maggie?'_

' _Yes, but you'll have to hurry. I'm due to row in the single sculls finals before I take my last shot in the discus.'_

' _Maggie we are all so proud of you. Who do you attribute your success to?'_

' _I owe it all to my mother,' smiled Maggie. 'It was she who gave my hockey stick. I still wear her lucky skirt today.'_

' _Yes, your fashion sense is sweeping the world. Clothing manufactures can't keep up with the demand for the Maggie J hockey skirt...'_

"Ok," she agreed. "They're holding trials for the school team after school on Tuesday so I'll give it a go. We did a bit of hitting and passing last year in PE but we didn't learn many of the rules."

"I'm sure you'll pick it up easily. I used to love playing hockey," said her mother with a smile.

Maggie wished that she hadn't agreed when her mother unearthed a large, brightly striped skirt for her.

"What's this?" she asked suspiciously.

"It's my old hockey skirt," beamed her mother. "I'm sure it will fit you if I take in the sides."

"That's gross," said Maggie in disgust. "That's horrible. I wouldn't be seen dead in anything like that. If that's what hockey players wear, then I won't bother."

Her mother was hurt.

"Well you can go in your shorts if you like," she said, "but I thought you'd like to wear it. It might bring you luck. I scored the winning goal for my school in the inter-school tournament when I wore it. I always hoped that one day my daughter would wear it so that's why I've kept it all these years."

"Oh all right," said Maggie wretchedly. At least the boots were ok and they even fitted quite well if she wore two pairs of socks.

"I'll get you some shin pads and a mouth guard if you decide to play," said her mother excitedly. "Don't forget to tell Mrs Clarke that I'm happy to take a car to the games."

Yes, yes," said Maggie "You've already told me. I heard."

"Really," she thought. "Mothers!" Her mother was even bossier than Maggie was at times.

Maggie changed in the school toilets and walked out to the hockey field wearing her mother's old skirt. Julie, the captain of the First Eleven, started sniggering.

"Why are you wearing a tent?" she asked Maggie innocently. "Are you going camping after this?"

Maggie ground her teeth.

"It's my mother's old hockey skirt," she fumed.

"Oh, an antique!" said Julie. "That explains it. I've heard that antiques can be quite valuable."

"Go boil your head," muttered Maggie under her breath, as she stamped over to put her name down with Mrs Clarke. This was not a good start. She was obviously wearing the wrong clothes – all the other girls were in shorts and T-shirts – and she felt as if everyone was staring at her. Even Mrs Clarke had given her a funny look when she saw what Maggie was wearing.

"We'll start off with some practise hits," announced Mrs Clarke, bringing out a bucket filled with hockey balls. "Everyone take a partner. I want you to stand at least twenty paces apart, then stop the ball and hit it back to your partner."

The girls rushed around claiming partners and Maggie was left on her own.

"I'll be your partner Maggie," said Mrs Clarke taking pity on her. "Right girls, each couple take a ball and start hitting. Here Maggie, stop this." Mrs Clarke tapped the ball and hit in Maggie's direction. Maggie swung her stick wildly, missed completely, and had to chase off and retrieve the ball, interrupting four other players as she did so.

"Sorry," she mumbled, red in the face. She put the ball on the ground and swung her stick at it. The stick missed the ball and narrowly avoided hitting Julie in the head. Julie yelped and pointedly moved a lot further away from her.

"Try hitting lower down," advised Mrs Clarke. "This is hockey, not golf."

Maggie lifted her stick and hit again. A clump of grass shot up into the air but the ball remained at her feet.

"Try again, Maggie," called Mrs Clarke, loudly and clearly.

Frantic with embarrassment, Maggie swung her stick desperately. There was a 'crack' as the stick hit the ball then to Maggie's horror the ball lifted into the air and travelled straight at Mrs Clarke's face. Mrs Clarke lifted her own stick and deftly tapped the ball to the ground.

"Good thing I used to be a goalie," she observed calmly. "Let's try it again, Maggie." She hit the ball back to Maggie who managed to stop it with her boot.

"Yes, well, that's not really legal," explained Mrs Clarke, "but it's at least something. Now hit it back and try not to get the stick under the ball."

After hacking up a few unlucky clumps of grass, Maggie managed to get the ball to trickle back to Mrs Clarke. After a few more minutes of this, Mrs Clarke divided the girls into two teams of eleven. One side was handed yellow armbands.

"We'll have a quick game with running substitutes so I can see how you play," she explained. "When I call your name, come off the pitch and one of the reserves will run on." She lined up the reserves in order and Maggie found herself last.

It was a frantic game. The girls were desperate to show how well they could play.

"Pass it," called Mrs Clarke. "Don't forget this is a team game. It's not how well you play individually that matters, but how well you play as part of the team."

Maggie watched in excitement. She knew the idea of the game was to pass it between the players then take a shot at the goal. The Yellow side were winning 6 – 3 and Maggie hoped she would get to go on that side. The score crept up to 8 – 5 to Yellow and there was only one player in front of Maggie waiting to go on.

"Change," called Mrs Clarke. "Sarah and Veronica come off and Maggie and Joanne go on." Joanne ran forward and accepted Sarah's yellow armband while Maggie ran towards Veronica.

"You're inside left," called Veronica, as Maggie importantly took her place on the field.

"No, no, Maggie, left, left, you're on the wrong side," called Mrs Clarke. Maggie changed sides and ran towards a group of girls who were battling with their sticks over the ball. Taking a deep breath Maggie swung her stick and connected with the ankles of one of her own team players.

"Oh, oh, that hurts," moaned Elizabeth. "I'm on your side you idiot, go and cripple someone else. And stay in position. You shouldn't even be over here."

"Sorry," squeaked Maggie. She spent the next few minutes standing in position waiting for the ball to come her way. All the action seemed to be on the other side of the field. She stood with stick at the ready, trying to look keen and confident. At last the ball came in her direction.

"Yours, Maggie," called Elizabeth.

Maggie set off towards the ball as it came speeding down the pitch. Running as fast as she could, she felt a flapping around her knees. To her horror, the stitches were coming loose on her skirt. As she ran it slowly descended past her hips, hobbling her knees so she couldn't run. Maggie gave a gasp of dismay and frantically hitched the skirt up with one hand. With the other hand she thrust her stick out towards the ball and tripped up Linda, the Yellow captain.

"Ah!" yelled Linda "Watch where you put your stick, can't you?" She shook off Maggie's offered hand and stormed off. Maggie heaved a sigh of relief as the whistle blew.

"That will do for now, girls," said Mrs Clarke "I'll make up the team lists and put them on the gym notice board on Friday. We'll start proper practises next week but make sure you keep fit in the meantime by jogging or doing exercises."

"How did you get on?" Maggie's mother asked her eagerly when she arrived home with the hated hockey skirt pushed firmly to the bottom of her school bag.

"Oh, ok, well, not very good actually," confessed Maggie as she helped herself to an apple from the sideboard. "I don't think my arms and legs were put on the right way for hockey."

Her mother laughed and ruffled Maggie's hair.

"It doesn't matter," she said. "I enjoyed hockey but there's no rule that says you should too. Anyway, don't give up yet. You might have got into a team."

On Friday morning Maggie went along to the gym. Sure enough, there was the notice board with the hockey teams displayed. Maggie searched in vain for her name but it wasn't there. Mrs Clarke came out of her office.

"Ah, Maggie, hello," she said.

"I'm not in a hockey team," said Maggie sadly.

"I'm afraid not. I had too many girls and I had to choose the best. Some of the girls will be reserves but there wasn't a place for you. Most of the girls have been playing for a couple of years already. You are very welcome to come along to practises and learn some skills though."

"Thanks," said Maggie, "but I expect I'll be too busy." She looked around frantically. A notice about the soccer season caught her eyes. "I'm going to play soccer," she said confidently.

Mrs Clarke looked taken aback.

"Oh, are you dear? Well that's, er, a good idea. You'll be able to use your boots anyway and the rules are similar."

"Yes," agreed Maggie, who had only a rough idea of what most of the hockey rules were, and almost no idea about soccer. She did know that both soccer and hockey had eleven players in a team.

"Good luck then," smiled Mrs Clarke and Maggie turned her attention to the soccer notice.

"I'd better find out about it in case she asks me," she thought.

The soccer club was having an open day and registration day on Saturday.

"That's tomorrow," thought Maggie. "It says all ages from seven years upward so I'm certainly not the wrong age. I won't tell anyone I'm going though. Just in case I don't enjoy it."

That night Maggie nearly choked on her macaroni as her father announced he was going to the soccer open day the next morning.

"Why?" asked Maggie.

"They've asked me to coach the under 18's," said her father. "I had a couple of years off coaching when Doug Campbell was here but now he's been transferred, Nick's team will need a coach."

"Do any girls play?" asked Maggie casually.

"Yes, but not in the Under 18's. There aren't any good enough," snorted Nick.

"Now hang on Nick, be fair," said his father. "Yes there are a few girls in our club that play, although most of them are younger than you, and they fit in with the boys. Some clubs have all girl teams and a competition of their own but our club is a bit small for that."

"I still think it should be a male only game," stated Nick "Let girls stick to things like synchronised swimming or nail varnish drying races."

"What a terrible attitude Nick," laughed his mother. "I thought we'd brought you up to be a bit more open-minded than that."

"I was only teasing," grinned Nick.

Maggie spluttered in rage.

"Girls can do anything. New Zealand was the first country to recognise that women were equal and gave us the vote. I think girls should be able to play soccer if they want to. I'm certainly going to," she finished.

There was a startled silence.

"You!" said Nick in amazement. "Play soccer? You?"

"Are you sure Maggie?" asked her mother.

"Yes," said Maggie decidedly.

"Good on you," said her father. "It's a great game. It's not as if there's much contact between the players," he reassured his wife. "It depends on ball skills and foot work."

"I don't know why you would even want to try it, Maggie," said Nick. "You've never bothered coming to watch any of the games I've played in over the years. You're hopeless when it comes to catching balls so what makes you think you'd be any better at kicking them?"

His father frowned at him.

"Give her a chance Nick. She may turn out to be quite competent with a bit of coaching. She's certainly fit enough if all those daily runs are anything to go by. Tell you what, Maggie, we'll grab the soccer ball and take it out onto the back lawn as soon as we've finished tea and I'll give you some pointers."

Nick looked unconvinced but made no objection.

Maggie went to bed with a nervous feeling in her stomach. What had she let herself in for? She had spent an hour kicking the ball around with her father and despite his encouragement she was not entirely sure she was going to enjoy playing soccer. So much for not telling anyone. There was no danger of her being in Nick's team, but she hoped the other boys in the club wouldn't give her a hard time.

"Oh well," she sighed as she turned over sleepily, "at least I'm getting fit. I should suggest that Mr Marshall gives a prize to the person who tries the most sports. That has to be me!"

Chapter Six

Saturday morning was warm and overcast. Maggie's mother made her eat a good breakfast before they set off for the school playing fields. There were crowds of boys, small and large, milling about. Maggie was impressed. She hadn't realised how popular soccer was. A couple of harassed looking mothers were selling second hand boots from a large box at one end of the gym while elsewhere fathers were greeting each other and discussing the teams they were going to coach. Maggie and Nick joined a line of kids at the registration table.

"We put everyone's name down," a business like woman explained, "then you pay your sub when you are placed in a team. Today is a trial day. The coaches will ring all the team members by Wednesday to arrange practise times, otherwise there will be a list on the gym notice board."

Nick approached the desk and the woman looked up with a smile

"Oh Nick Johnson. You'd be in the Under 18's of course – no doubt about that. I hear your Dad is going to coach you this year. You can go and help him get the nets out if you like."

"Sure," said Nick, and loped off out the door. Maggie stepped forward nervously.

"Um, Maggie Johnson," she said.

The woman looked surprised.

"Nick's sister?"

When Maggie nodded the woman smiled. "If you're half as good as Nick you'll be a real asset to the club. Now, how old are you Maggie?"

"Thirteen," replied Maggie.

"Ok, then you go over to field number two with Mr Martin. He's organising the teams there."

Maggie walked outside and spotted a cardboard sign with a large number two on it. A cheerful dark haired man was talking to a group of boys. There were no girls in sight. Maggie stopped abruptly. There must be some mistake. These boys were all little – they looked about ten years old and most of them stood not much higher than her waist. She turned and ran back to the registration desk. She had to wait at the back of the line for seven boys to go through before she stood by the desk again.

"Name please," the woman looked up and frowned. "Haven't you already put your name down. Maggie Johnson isn't it?"

"Yes," said Maggie breathlessly, "but you sent me to the wrong place. There are only little kids there."

The woman looked at her list.

"You should be at number two field with Mr Martin," she said.

"But I went there," blurted Maggie, "and they're all little boys, not my age."

"But you're thirteen aren't you?" said the woman. "Yes that's right. Girls play three years down from their age when they play in a boys' team," she explained. "That way it's fair."

"Do you mean that they think I'm only as good as a ten year old boy?" asked Maggie incredulously.

"Some of those ten year old boys might surprise you," the woman answered dryly. "Off you go."

Maggie walked back to the sign, muttering under her breath.

"Only as good as a ten year old. Huh!" She'd show them!

Mr Martin gave her a grin.

"Decided we look all right after all," he said teasingly.

Maggie forced a smile and joined the group.

"At least they are friendly," she thought in surprise as the boys called 'hello' and asked her name.

"We'll start with a few warm ups," said Mr Martin. "I want you all to run around the edge of the field and back here to me. Go."

Maggie's face lit up. This was something she could do. She streaked to the front and led the way around the field, boys straggling behind her. Across the top she pounded and down the second side. Three quarters of the way there, a freckled, ginger haired boy drew level with her. Grinning he ran beside her as she arrived red faced and breathless back at the line.

"Well done," said Mr Martin, as the rest of the boys arrived in a bunch. "It wasn't a race, you know, but it's good to see you are all so fit. Now we'll try some ball skills." He had the boys stand in a large circle and tossed a soccer ball onto the grass. "I'll kick it to each of you in turn," he said. "I want you to trap it – that's stop it with the side of your foot - then kick it back to me. Always trap the ball before you pass it. You must be in control of the ball if you want your pass to go to the right place or to the right person. Off we go." He kicked the ball to the ginger headed boy, then continued round the circle. Maggie found to her surprise that she actually stopped the ball and kicked it back the first time.

"This is the life," she thought.

Here is Maggie Johnson, the founder of the MJ soccer skills courses. She is now a multi-millionaire as thousands of boys and girls flock to her coaching classes. Maggie started playing soccer when she was thirteen.

' _Oh, it's nothing, really. Girls can do anything,' she said modestly._

Nick Johnson, Maggie's manager told us; 'It was obvious from the start that Maggie was talented at soccer. I spotted it and encouraged her to play. No one is prouder than I am of having such a successful, talented sister....'

"Now we'll see what you are like at kicking and saving goals," said Mr Martin. "Let's have half of you at each end by a goal. I want you to take turns to try and score a goal from the penalty spot then run forward to take a turn at being goalie."

"What's the penalty spot?" wondered Maggie, but followed the boys as they stood in front of the goal in a marked space, which Maggie learned later was called the penalty area. One by one the boys stepped forward and kicked the ball, then took a turn at trying to save it.

"Your turn."

Maggie took a deep breath and kicked the ball. The ball trickled along the ground and the goalie picked it up and kicked it back. Maggie ran in to take her turn in goal. The goal was huge, much bigger had it had looked when she tried to score into it. A tiny little boy with knobbly knees looked up at Maggie then kicked the ball as hard as he could. The ball came hurling towards Maggie who screamed and ducked. The ball fell behind her into the net as Maggie blushed and stepped aside.

"Better luck next time," said Mr Martin, who to Maggie's mortification had arrived in time to see her.

Ignoring the sniggers from the boys, Maggie stepped forward for her next turn. This time she kicked the ball much harder but it flew sideways off her boot and didn't go anywhere near the goal. She walked into the goal again and thought,

" Right. This time I'm going to catch the ball."

The skinny kid stepped up and with a sweeping kick booted the ball towards her. Maggie stretched out both arms and caught the ball as it landed 'whoosh' into her belly. She staggered back a few steps then called out proudly,

"I've saved it."

"Afraid not," said Mr Martin with a smile. "You carried the ball over the goal line so it is still a goal."

"But I'm holding it," protested Maggie.

Mr Martin shrugged.

"Those are the rules," he said. "It's counted as a goal even if you scored it yourself for the opposition. Come on, I'll get you all to do some throw-ins."

He showed Maggie and the boys how to stand behind the line at the side of the field and throw the ball.

"Both feet must stay on the ground," he said, "and you must use both hands to throw the ball from behind your head. Ok, here are some balls. Take turns to throw and catch." He passed out half a dozen soccer balls. Maggie found it hard to time her throws. She threw them high in the air so they landed on her head or she threw them too late and they bounced on the ground in front of her. She was impressed by how well some of the smaller boys could throw. Try as she might, her ball went no distance at all.

"Now we'll try some heading," said Mr Martin. "Remember to strike the ball with your forehead, not the top of your head."

He lined the soccer players up and had them run forward as he tossed the ball. In turn, they each had to head the ball back to him.

"This looks easy," thought Maggie. She ran forward as the ball was tossed and aimed for it with her forehead.

"Ah!" she screamed as the ball hit her full in the face. "By dose, I think by dose is broken," she wailed. Her eyes were watering with tears. To her horror she felt blood pouring from her nose. Three of the boys ran up to her and asked her if she was all right. One offered her a grubby handkerchief while another told her that he had done the same thing last year.

"Oh dear, you'd better sit down for a while," said Mr Martin sympathetically and Maggie miserably staggered to the side of the field. Holding a handkerchief to her bleeding nose she watched as Mr Martin divided the boys into teams and played a short soccer game. At the end of the game Mr Martin came over to Maggie who had stopped bleeding and thankfully discovered that her nose was not actually broken but was still very tender to touch.

"That was bad luck, Maggie," said Mr Martin. "Look, I'm going to make up a team list but most of the boys here have been playing for a couple of years already. I know you're keen but frankly there won't be room in the team for you. You're welcome to come along to our practises if you want to. Otherwise you might want to help the adults who look after the midget players."

"Oh," said Maggie. "I'll have to think about it. Thanks," she managed to say before she stumbled off to find her father and brother.

"I guess I can cross soccer player off the list," she thought. "It's a pity, because I enjoyed that the most of all the sports so far. Oh well, at least I can write soccer in my journal for this week's entry."

On Monday morning, Maggie's father announced that he would be out that night. "Now that I've agreed to coach Nick's team again, I think it's time I went for my referees badge. There's an eight week course in the city starting tonight so I'll be away for a couple of hours."

Mrs Johnson beamed.

"That's going to suit really well. I've been offered a job teaching embroidery at the school as a night class, so you can drop me off on the way past. Nick would you mind babysitting Maggie?"

"I don't need babysitting," protested Maggie but Nick interrupted hastily.

"Sorry Mum. I'd do it happily, but Daniel and I have got jazz band practise on Monday nights from now on. We've got the end of term assembly to rehearse for."

"I can stay home by myself," said Maggie indignantly. "Or I could go to a friend. No, that won't work. Lisa has cricket practise and Melanie hangs around with Zach most of the time now."

"No," said her mother firmly. "I will not leave you on your own at night, even if it's only for a few hours."

"I'll go with Dad then," Maggie said with a sudden inspiration. "I can muck around the shops or go to a movie or something while he goes to the referees' course."

"No," said her father decidedly. "I'm not having you wandering around town on your own at night. If you come with me then you stay with me. You can always do your homework at the back of the room," he suggested

"Thanks a bunch," muttered Maggie then she cheered up. Perhaps there would be some good looking young guys there at the referee's course. Or if she was good for the first couple of times, Dad might change his mind and let her go to a movie after all.

Alas for Maggie. When they arrived at the sports club where the ref course was being held, she was disappointed to find that the men there were all around her father's age. They were very friendly and smiled cheerfully at Maggie as she sat beside her father and prepared to be bored. The man in charge introduced himself.

"Hi, I'm Jack Strathmore and I've been a ref now for twenty five years. It's great that you've all come along to do this course. We need people to referee the games, who know what they are doing. This helps the players to play the game better and for those of you who are coaches, you will find that you have a better understanding of the game and the skills required. Now, because most of you are involved with children what we are doing here is the Junior Referees Badge. This means that when you are qualified you will be able to ref any junior grade games. To go on to the adult or senior level, you will have to be tested controlling a game at that level."

Maggie stifled a yawn.

"Boring," she thought.

"Let's look at the field of play," went on Mr Strathmore. He put a diagram of a soccer field on an overhead projector and pointed out the features. "Did you know that the goal area is the size of the wall of an average house," he went on.

Maggie grew interested despite herself. No wonder it was so hard for the goalie to stop a ball. It was hard to judge sizes when you were on a flat empty ground. She was impressed to hear that the referee could refuse to let a game be played if the pitch wasn't in good condition or if the weather was too bad.

"Do you hear that Dad?" she hissed, poking her father in the ribs. "You always say that teams should play no matter what the weather's like, but the ref can stop it if it is too wet."

"What? Yes, yes Maggie. Be quiet and listen," said her father. He scribbled a few notes down on the exercise book he was holding. Maggie listened to Mr Strathmore explain that refs should check the ball and the players boots before the game started.

"Does anyone know how to drop the ball?" Mr Strathmore asked. Maggie giggled.

"That's what I did at netball," she whispered to her father. He grinned back at her. Mr Strathmore explained that if the ref had to stop the game for an injury, he could restart the game by dropping the ball in between two opposing players. That gave both sides a fair chance.

On the way home Maggie chatted excitedly to her father.

"It was interesting wasn't it? Can I come every time Dad? If I learn the rules maybe I'll have a better chance of getting in to the soccer team."

"Look Maggie," said her father. "You're very welcome to come with me but there's no guarantee you'll get into a team. It's not only knowing the rules that's important. You also have to be able to kick and pass the ball."

"It was only an idea," muttered Maggie and subsided into silence.

Chapter Seven

The next four weeks passed quickly. Maggie settled into a routine of going for a run each night after tea, apart from Mondays, when she went to the referee's course with her father.

One evening, as she came back from her run, she saw Seth and Jacob, two of the boys from her class, kicking a soccer ball around.

"Hi," called Maggie.

Seth looked up in surprise.

"Oh it's you, hi," he muttered.

"What does she want?" hissed Jacob.

"No idea," Seth shrugged.

"What are you doing?" asked Maggie.

"Knitting – what does it look like?" replied Seth rudely, as he dribbled a soccer ball along his front yard before passing it to Jacob who promptly kicked it into a blackcurrant bush.

"Can I play?" asked Maggie hopefully.

"What?" Seth could hardly believe his ears. "You're a girl," he said scornfully. "What do girls know about soccer?"

"Just ignore her," said Jacob impatiently. "Come on Seth, let's go round the back. It's more peaceful round there," he said pointedly, glaring at Maggie.

Maggie fumed silently as she ran home.

"I'll bet I know heaps more about soccer than them," she thought. "If I keep going to this ref's course with Dad I'll know all the rules. I'll bet they don't know half of them".

Maggie listened with frowning concentration at the next instruction session. She learned about throw-ins and the best position to stand in to judge them. She chattered to her father about direct kicks and indirect kicks and when they should be applied. Maggie was intrigued to learn the offside rule. It had always seemed a puzzle to her in the past when she had watched Nick play and the whistle had gone, but now it seemed simple.

"Now don't forget," warned Mr Strathmore, "it is a lot easier to see these things on a diagram than when you are running around the pitch. Sometimes a player will obscure your view and you should learn to keep an eye on the linesman's flag. That is, if you are lucky enough to have linesmen. Most junior games at club level don't have anyone keen enough and qualified enough to do it."

"What's a linesman?" Maggie whispered to her father. Mr Strathmore overheard her.

"Each game is controlled not only by the referee but also two linesmen," he answered. "They each hold a flag and run along the lines on either side of the field. They hold the flag up when the ball goes out or if they see an infringement of the rules."

"Are they referees as well?" Maggie asked.

"Ideally, yes. Certainly for competitions and international matches they are. In a junior game they may be coaches or parents who know a little bit about the rules. Then they would only flag when the ball goes out. The linesmen can indicate when they see infringements but the decision is always with the referee."

On the last night of the ref course Mr Strathmore handed out the examination papers.

"This is your written exam," he explained. "Once you've passed this, you'll have a practical test where you will be judged refereeing a match."

Much to Maggie's surprise she was handed a sheet of questions.

"But I'm not doing the ref's course," she protested.

"Well Maggie," said Mr Strathmore, "you've been here every night so far and you've even asked a few questions as I recall." Maggie blushed "Why don't you sit the exam and see how you get on?"

"Might as well," mumbled Maggie. She looked at the first question.

"What penalty is given when an opposing player attempts to kick the ball being held by the goal keeper?"

"I know that," she thought. "Indirect free kick."

An hour and a half later Maggie looked up from the last question.

"Wow. I knew most of those," she thought.

She discussed the exam with her father on the way home in the car.

"You knew all of the answers," she wailed.

"Hey, that's hardly surprising," said her father. "I've played for over twenty years now. I've learned quite a bit from coaching but this course was really good value. I've enjoyed your company too, Maggie."

Maggie glowed with pride. She was bursting to tell someone about the course but she had decided not to tell anyone in case she hadn't passed.

Thursday evening brought a phone call from Mr Strathmore. Maggie's father answered then gave Maggie a thumbs up signal. Her heart leapt in her chest.

"Does this mean I've passed?" she wondered excitedly

"Congratulations Junior Referee Maggie Johnson" said her father when he put the phone down.

Maggie screamed.

"Yahoo. I've passed, I've passed." Her father hugged her.

"You did very well," he said, "and our test games will be on Saturday at ten o'clock. There are district tournaments on at the Memorial Park in the city."

Maggie's mouth dropped open.

"Test game!" she squeaked. "What do you mean test game?"

"You have to be assessed controlling a game before you can get your badge," her father reminded her.

"But I only wanted to learn the rules. I didn't want to be an actual referee. I mean, I do want to be one but I don't want to ref a game. I don't know what I mean," she ended on a wail.

"Don't stress out. You'll be fine," said her father. "You only have to ref a game of under nine's. They play for twenty minutes each half so I'm sure you can manage that. They are only little boys and they won't know if you make a few mistakes."

"I can't do it," whimpered Maggie. "Their parents will know if I stuff up. What if they get angry? What if they boo me off the pitch? What if they throw things at me?"

Her father laughed.

"It's not Argentina versus Italy for the World Cup we're talking about," he said. "Look Maggie, we'll go through on Saturday. I have to ref a game at eleven and I promise you that if you feel you can't go through with it then I will ref your game for you as well."

"Okay," said Maggie in relief but her heart still seemed to be pounding twice as fast as usual.

"You'll need a uniform of some sort," suggested her mother "How about a black T-shirt with a collar and a black skirt. Or shorts if you prefer," she added hastily as she saw Maggie's mutinous expression at the word 'skirt.'

"You'll need black socks as well,' her father added, "and a decent whistle. We'll buy one on Friday when I come home from work."

Maggie spent Friday feeling alternatively excited and sick.

"What's wrong with you, Maggie? You haven't heard a work I've said," complained Lisa at lunchtime. "I was telling you about my cricket game and you're not even listening."

"Sorry," whispered Maggie, but she was relieved when the bell went for class and they all trooped in for their English lesson.

Mr Marshall asked them to give an update on their fitness programmes. Seth stood up and described how he had played cricket and been selected for the National Junior Representative team for the North Island. He outlined his training programme for soccer, where he had also been selected as a regional rep player, then gave a short talk on Balintawok and skateboarding, both of which he fitted into his spare time. One or two of the girls giggled and admitted that they had done nothing, but to Maggie's dismay, most seemed to be in the thick of sports teams and activities in every available moment. She envied those who had parents with boats to take them water skiing, or those who did exotic sounding activities such as kayaking and tap dancing. She looked at her list of attempts and when asked to give her report she mumbled that she 'did a bit of running.' She didn't want to mention the refereeing. It was so different to the things the others were doing and she still had to pass her test!

After tea that night Maggie's father took her shopping at the sports shop.

"We need referee's whistles," he told the assistant. The young man behind the counter produced a tray of whistles.

"Try these out," he suggested. Mr Johnson settled on a Thunderer each and Maggie gave hers a tentative blow. The shop assistant winced at the noise and the other customers looked over in surprise.

"Aren't they a bit expensive?" Maggie whispered, trying to hide behind her father. "There are much cheaper ones over there."

"Cheap whistles aren't worth getting," explained her father. "It's important that your whistle is loud so that everyone on the field can hear it. It's no good if it suddenly goes silent when the pea in it sticks. This is how you should blow it." He put the whistle to his lips and a shrill blast rang around the shop. The assistant took an involuntary step back

"Wow," he said, "that's some noise."

"That's the idea," said Mr Johnson He winked at Maggie. "When you go out as a ref, you have to be the big noise on the field."

The next morning Maggie couldn't eat any breakfast.

"I feel sick," she wailed.

"You need food for energy dear, especially as you'll be running around," her mother pointed out.

Maggie moaned and forced down a banana.

"Why did I decide to do this?" she asked herself. She knew what would happen.

' _Our reporter is down at Memorial Park where a riot has just broken out. Young Maggie Johnson was attempting to referee a junior soccer match for the first time. Her constant incorrect calls annoyed the supporters to the point where they began throwing bottles onto the pitch. Maggie's father intervened at this stage and started blowing his whistle. The supporters turned on him as well and began exchanging blows. A passing group of teenagers rushed to his aid. Before long the police arrived. So far we have heard of two people unconscious, three broken bones and numerous cuts and bruises. Mr James, the President of the local football association saw it happen._

Mr James your comments on this?'

' _It was disgraceful. I have never seen such a poor display of refereeing in my thirty years connected with this sport.'_

' _Er, I meant your comment on the fight?'_

' _Yes, well, if Mr Johnson insists on throwing his weight about then he has only himself to blame....'_

"Come on Maggie, get your gear, it's time to go," said her father cheerfully.

"Do you want me to come and watch?" asked Nick with an evil grin. "I can judge your performance if you like. I'll hold up score cards out of ten like they do for gymnastics."

"No!" shrieked Maggie. "If you come then I'm not going."

Mr Johnson laughed.

"Calm down, it's only the two of us. Nick is staying home to mow the lawns. Aren't you Nick?" He fixed his son with a stern eye.

"Okay. I was only joking, Maggie. I think it's awesome what you're doing. Most people I know wouldn't have half your guts."

Maggie's mouth fell open in astonishment. A compliment from Nick! That was a first.

"Thanks," she said sincerely, then rushed to the bedroom to collect her boots and put on her uniform. Nick came up to her before she left and offered to lend her his watch.

"It's got a stopwatch function on it and I'll show you how to set it if you like," he offered.

"That's brilliant," beamed Maggie. "I was just going to use my ordinary watch and I was worried I would get the time wrong."

Memorial Park was crowded when they got there and Mr Johnson had trouble finding a parking space for his car.

"Why don't they have special reserved parks for the referees?" inquired Maggie.

"We're not that important," answered her father. "People think we get paid but it's just a voluntary thing. Some of the senior grade refs get a tiny amount of petrol money but only a handful get paid for refereeing. Come on."

They walked down the street to the park.

"There are the junior fields over there," pointed Mr Johnson. "I'll come and give you moral support."

"I don't think I can do it," whispered Maggie.

"Just give it your best shot," said her father comfortingly.

Mr Strathmore called "Hello" and beckoned them over.

"How are you feeling Maggie?" he asked

"All right," whispered Maggie

"Gosh that's amazing," said Mr Strathmore. "I was so nervous the first time I had to ref that I spilt my coffee down my front and had to run around with a big wet patch on my chest." Maggie managed a weak smile.

"Now don't worry," he continued. "All I do when I watch you is to see if you know what you are doing. Then I grade you for whatever level I think you are capable of. That means that you might be graded as up to ten years so you can ref games of eight to ten year olds. Have you got a whistle?"

Maggie held out her Thunderer on the cord around her neck.

"Excellent. What about a stopwatch?"

"My watch has a stopwatch function," said Maggie. "It's my brother Nick's actually. He lent it to me. And I've got a notebook and pencil to record the goals."

"Great. You are well organised," smiled Mr Strathmore "Ok, it's time to get started. Your teams are on the field now so off you go."

Maggie walked onto the soccer field. It felt a long, long way and she hoped Mr Strathmore couldn't see her knees knocking together. She asked for the captains to step forward then told them they would be tossing a coin to see which direction they played. A coin. Maggie panicked. She didn't have a coin! She turned an agonised, pleading glance to her father who strode forward with a grin.

"Here you go," he said and handed Maggie a 50c coin. Maggie tossed the coin. "Heads or tails?" she asked the visiting captain.

"Heads," he called. The coin landed at Maggie's feet with the Queen's head showing.

"Which way do you want to play?" she asked

"That way," the captain pointed and the two coaches hastily arranged the players.

"Right!" thought Maggie. "This is it." Taking a deep breath she set her watch then blew a loud blast on her whistle to signal the start of the game.

Chapter Eight

One of the strikers from the Red team kicked off. Immediately there was a confused commotion as a rush of small boys charged after the ball. Maggie ran after them, careful not to get too close to the players or in the way of the ball. A Blue defender got his boot to the ball and kicked it away towards the wing. Two defenders rushed forward importantly at the same time as the Red attacking striker. Hastily one of the Blue defenders kicked the ball over the sideline. Maggie blew her whistle. She raised her arm to indicate the direction the Red team was playing and a Red defender ran forward to take the throw in. The boy threw the ball in perfectly, both feet on the ground and hands balanced. Maggie was surprised to see that it didn't go much further than her own attempts.

"These boys are quite small," she thought. "I guess they are still learning the game. They probably don't even know half the rules."

This was demonstrated a few minutes later as the Blue team went on to attack. Maggie kept up with the play as the ball was being kicked and looked across the field. There was the Red goalie standing in front of his goal, and the Blue striker with the ball. Between them, running hard towards the goal and past the Red sweeper, was another Blue player.

"Kick to me, kick it to me," he called as the Blue Striker kicked the ball.

Offside! Maggie blasted her whistle and the boys promptly came to a stop. She raised her arm high in the air for an indirect free kick.

"Offside," called Maggie. Several parents on the sideline clapped.

"Why?" asked the Blue striker, who had been hoping to score a goal.

"You have to have two defenders, that's two of the Red players, between you and the goal if you are in front of the ball," explained Maggie. "That's a simple way of explaining it for them," she thought. "They can all count to two."

She blew her whistle to indicate that the Red player could take the free kick. She watched the ball sail through the air and dropped her arm as soon as another player touched it. Maggie felt exhilarated. This was fun. All those weeks of learning rules and looking at diagrams on blackboards and now it was actually happening. She was an actual ref controlling an actual game. It was harder than she had imagined, though. She couldn't always see exactly what was happening, especially if a player ran in front of her and obscured her vision.

"Linesmen would make things a whole heap easier," she thought. She knew that most junior games didn't have linesmen. Her Dad had explained why.

"Rugby is so strong in New Zealand that it's the game most of the fathers have played. Not many of them played soccer as children so they are not too clear on the rules. When I was a boy, only those who wore glasses or who had a note from their doctor could play soccer at school. Everyone else had to play rugby." Her father had gone on to say that often the coaches would ref the games or act as linesmen but they preferred, if they could, to watch from the sideline so they could give advice to the players and see how they performed.

The game continued and Maggie was glad she had been going running every night.

"I run more than the players," she thought as she sprinted up the field.

Red team managed to score a goal, amid much excitement. Maggie wrote it down in her notebook before starting the game again with a Blue kickoff at the centre. A few minutes later there was a scuffle of boots as the ball veered over the sideline. One of the parents picked it up.

"Whose throw, ref?" he asked. Maggie hesitated. She hadn't seen which player had touched the ball last. What should she do? She took a deep breath and remembered Mr Strathmore's advice. _Unless it's an offside offence, always give to the defender if in doubt._ Maggie held her arm out.

"Blue ball," she said.

"No, no, it's our throw," insisted one of the Red players. "He kicked it out," he said, pointing accusingly at a Blue sweeper.

" Blue throw," said Maggie firmly. That was another of Mr Strathmore's rules. _Never change your decision._

"Fair enough, ref, Blue ball," said one of the fathers and the game continued.

A little later Maggie's watch bleeped and she blew the whistle for half time.

"Five minutes to rest," she thought. The players streamed off the field towards their coaches for oranges and drinks of water. Maggie's father came up to her, as she stood rather self-consciously on the sideline.

"You're doing a great job, Maggie, keep it up," he beamed. Maggie grinned back at him.

"I'm really enjoying it," she confessed. "I may not be making perfect decisions every time, but I'm doing my best."

"That's all anyone can ask." Her father patted her shoulder. "As long as people know you are in charge they will respect you."

"It's funny though," Maggie went on, "People talk about refs being one-eyed or biased but I don't see how you can be. You spot the offence and blow the whistle automatically, before you even think about what side a player is on." Her father agreed with her.

"Most critics have never been in a referee's situation," he said. "If they were, they wouldn't be so quick to abuse the refs."

"Time to start again," said Maggie hastily, looking at her watch. "They have had their five minutes." She blew the whistle and ran to the centre of the field where she reset her watch.

The second half was much like the first, although Maggie took a minute to adjust to the fact that the teams were now playing in opposite directions. At one point, one of the Blue players tripped over his loose bootlaces and fell down howling as the ball came towards him. Maggie stopped the game and waited until the coach took the player from the field and sent on a reserve.

"We'll start the game again with a drop ball," she announced. "One player from each side come to me. Now you mustn't kick the ball until it hits the ground," she explained as she dropped the ball in between the players.

A few minutes later there was a group of players near the goal area as the Red team tried to score a goal.

"Hey ref, " called someone on the sideline. "Penalty! They're charging the goalie."

Maggie shrugged. There had been no infringement that she could see. The goalie had been standing still with the ball and had been charged shoulder to shoulder, which was perfectly allowable. A few of the players faltered and looked at Maggie.

"Play on," she called firmly, holding her arms out with the palms up.

"Good call, ref," called one of the parents. Maggie glowed. This was great. She felt in control and as if she was really contributing to the game. She counted six seconds as the goalie picked up the ball.

"Goalies have a tough time," she thought. "If he doesn't get rid of the ball in the six seconds I will blow the whistle, but because he's only learning I'll explain why and let him try again." However the goalie cleared the ball in time and the game continued.

Maggie watched as a group of Blue players managed to finally get the ball into the goal. She recorded it in her book – one goal each. Maggie glanced at her watch – two minutes to go.

"Come on Red, come on Red," chanted the supporters from the sidelines. Red team ran forward, grimly determined to win. The two teams rejoined battle and Maggie blew a free kick for the Blue team when a Red sweeper pulled the shirt of one of the Blue strikers to stop him getting to the ball. Red team regained control again and came pounding down the field to be met by a group of Blue defenders. Maggie's watch bleeped. Time was up. Maggie blew a long blast on her whistle as she circled her left arm then pointed to the centre of the field. A cry of disappointment came from the supporters.

"The game is a draw," said Maggie. The Red coach hurried onto the field to shake Maggie's hand.

"Good game ref, thanks," he said. The Blue coach did the same, followed by a few of the parents from the sideline. Elated, Maggie walked off the field to where her father was standing with Mr Strathmore.

"How did I go?" she asked breathlessly.

"Pretty good," said Mr Strathmore seriously. "You missed one obvious free kick when one of the Blue defenders kicked a Red striker in the shins, but generally you were good. I like the way you explained to the players what they had done. It was simple and brief."

"Do I pass?" breathed Maggie. Mr Strathmore laughed. He put his hand in his pocket and brought out a fabric patch. Junior Referee, JFA, was embroidered onto it.

"That's Junior Football Association," said Mr Strathmore. "Well done Maggie. Get your Mum to sew that on your shirt. I'll give you a call during the week to let you know what games you will be allocated. We'll let you do up to ten year olds this season and next season we will assess you again and probably extend it."

"Wow, this is awesome." Maggie hugged her father in delight. "What do you mean, games I'm allocated?" she asked suddenly.

"We'll put you down to ref one or two games each Saturday now. I'll make sure they are close to home for you, so transport won't be a problem." Mr Strathmore smiled at her.

Maggie gulped. Every Saturday! She was going to be busy.

"Thanks," she stammered.

"Come on, it's your Dad's turn now," said Mr Strathmore. They went over to another field where a group of older boys was waiting. Maggie watched her father ref the game and was impressed with his confidence and quick decisions.

"You were terrific," she said as they went home in the car.

"Actually, I was pretty nervous for the first few minutes knowing I was being assessed," confessed her father, "But I quickly got into the swing of it. I've had to ref games before when I was coaching. You get a much different view of the game than you do as a player."

Maggie filled in her journal that night. It was starting to look impressive. She decided she would keep up her fitness level by running at least three or four nights a week.

"I ran so much during the game, I'm going to have a day off," she decided.

Maggie startled her family by recording all the soccer games that were shown on TV. She then watched them with the sound off and blew her whistle and called out the infringements.

"Does she have to do that?" asked Nick plaintively. "It really gets on my nerves."

"She's only practising," laughed his mother. "Maggie, perhaps you could take pity on our ear drums and pretend to blow the whistle," she suggested.

Maggie was surprised to get a phone call from Mr Martin.

"I hear you are a qualified referee now, Maggie," he said. "Look, I was wondering if you would do me a favour?"

"Sure," said Maggie. "What is it?"

"I'd like you to come along to my team practices," said Mr Martin. "You can explain one of the rules to the team every week and then ref our practise game. You can even join in the skills practise as well if you like." Maggie thought for a few seconds.

"I'd love to," she answered.

"You're never home," complained Melanie at school a few weeks later as they sat eating their sandwiches together by the library. "If you're not out running, you're at soccer practise or soccer games."

'It's brilliant and I really enjoy it," said Maggie happily.

"I'll bet you win the prize for the best journal," said Lisa. "How can my cricket compare with all the things you have done?"

"I hope I win as well," confessed Maggie, "but it's weird. When I started I was doing it because I wanted to win a prize. Now I'm involved in sport because I really enjoy it."

A few weeks later there was a sports exchange between Maggie's school and a school from a neighbouring district. Lisa was playing in the indoor cricket team and Melanie agreed to watch the First Eleven soccer game with Maggie.

"Not that I'll understand much of it," complained Melanie.

"I'll explain the rules to you," said Maggie kindly.

"I was afraid of that," groaned Melanie.

Maggie's father had been asked to come along and ref the match and Nick was playing centre half. Two of the Second Eleven boys were acting as linesmen and most of the school turned out to watch. A few minutes before the game was due to start, disaster struck. Mr Johnson was walking past a classroom on his way to the soccer field when he tripped on a loose cobblestone and twisted his ankle.

"I can't run on this. I can't even walk," he groaned. The PE teacher was sympathetic.

"I'll see if the visiting coach can ref for us," he said. "Hey you two!" He called to a couple of Year Eleven boys who were walking past. "Help Mr Johnson to the sick bay and ask Mrs Carruthers to put ice on his ankle. I've got to go."

Mr Smith raced over to the field where the players had assembled.

"Our ref has had an accident. Are you able to do it?" he asked the visiting teacher. The teacher shook his head.

"Sorry mate, I'm filling in for the usual coach today. The only game I know anything about is squash, so that's no good to you. I'm only here to keep the boys in order on the bus."

"Oh dear." Mr Smith shook his head. A few of the team crowded around him to ask about the delay and he explained the problem.

"Why don't you ask my sister Maggie? She's a qualified ref," suggested Nick.

"Maggie?" Mr Smith was incredulous. "She's a ref?"

"Yeah, she usually does a couple of games each Saturday," answered Nick. "She's over there with her friend Melanie." Mr Smith walked over to the sideline where Maggie was sitting.

"Maggie, we need a ref. Your father has twisted his ankle. Can you do it for us?" he asked. Maggie's heart nearly stopped beating as she turned an aghast face to Mr Smith.

"Of course she can," said Melanie. " She's even got her boots and gear with her for soccer practise after school. You'll do it, won't you Maggie?"

"But I'm only qualified for ten year olds," bleated Maggie.

"That's okay, it's only a friendly game," said Mr Smith. "A couple of the Senior boys will run the lines for you so that will be a help. Get your gear on as quick as you can, we don't want to wait much longer."

"All right," whispered Maggie. She pulled her boots on, trying to lace them up with trembling fingers that felt like swollen bananas. Melanie finally took pity on her and tied them firmly in double bows.

Maggie ran onto the field and looked around her in dismay. The players were enormous, towering head and shoulders above her. These were not boys, these were men!

'What have I let myself in for," gulped Maggie. "I can't see over their heads and they are bound to run much faster than I can." She tried to look confident as she took the toss and marked the team names in a page hastily torn from her science exercise book. Nick retrieved his watch from his schoolbag and handed it to Maggie with a whispered "good luck."

Maggie blew the whistle to signal the start of the game. She was right. The players did run much faster than she could. Maggie pounded down the field after them and the ball was kicked out.

"Oh help. Which way?" she thought. She looked across at the sideline and to her relief the linesman was standing at the point where the ball went out, his flag indicating the direction.

"Wow, this makes it easier," thought Maggie as the Yellow team threw the ball in. The sweeper's foot lifted from the ground as he threw the ball in. Maggie blew a piercing blast on her whistle, tapped her raised foot behind her and reversed the direction of her arm. The Yellow player scowled at her as the Green team clapped and cheered.

The game continued. Maggie soon settled into a running pattern. These players did a lot more passing of the ball and kept their positions well. It was different from having to run around with a mob of small boys to keep an eye on them. Maggie soon found that she could run a diagonal across the pitch, keeping an eye out for the linesmen's flags. She knew it would be the full ninety minute game, not the forty minute games the young boys played. She blew for free kicks, corner kicks and goal kicks. She penalized a Green player, Nick, for kicking his opponent's legs as he went for the ball, and she awarded a penalty kick against Yellow for handling the ball in the penalty area. The Green team was delighted, and the spectators groaned, as the Yellow goalie made a brilliant save and rolled along the ground in front of the goal.

"Didn't think you'd spot that hand ball," grinned Nick as he ran past her. "You're better than I thought you'd be."

Tempers rose as half time approached and no goals had been scored. A Yellow defender ran forward to tackle his opponent and elbowed him in the back. Maggie awarded a free kick against him. The player looked annoyed. He was even more annoyed a short time later when the ball came her way and Maggie couldn't move aside fast enough. The Yellow defender swore at Maggie. Maggie promptly blew the whistle.

"I am cautioning you for the use of foul and abusive language," she said, raising her arm to indicate an indirect free kick.

"You can't do that!" exploded the enraged Yellow captain.

"Yes, I can," said Maggie calmly. "It's actually a send-off offence so tell your players to watch their language or they will all be taking early showers." Shortly after this Nicks's watch bleeped and she blew for half time and retired, trembling, to the goal line where she collapsed on the ground. Melanie raced up.

"You are amazing, Maggie," she breathed. "Here, I flogged you an orange from the players basket."

"Thanks," said Maggie breathlessly. This was horrible. She could see so many people she knew watching the game. Still forty-five minutes to go and she was already feeling tired.

"Seth says you look really good," went on Melanie. "He says you look like those refs on TV, really professional."

"He said that? Gosh." Maggie brightened up. She blew the whistle to signal the end of half time and was further cheered by Nick giving her the thumbs-up as he ran onto the field.

The rest of the game passed in a blur of yellow and green. Maggie made a note each time a goal was scored, and was grateful to the linesmen who faithfully helped her out with their flags. At last the final whistle blew. The score stood at Yellow team with four goals to Green team's three.

"Thanks, ref." The players of both teams filed past her shaking Maggie's hand.

"They can't say you were biased, anyway," whispered Nick. "We lost." The Green team cheered the Yellow team then both teams cheered the ref. Maggie felt so proud she hardly felt the ground as she walked back to the sideline where she had left her bag.

"Fantastic, Maggie," said Mr Smith. "You are a credit to the school."

A Year thirteen boy approached her.

"Hi. I'm Gareth," he said. "I'm the editor of the school magazine. Is it okay if I write a feature article about you?"

Chapter Nine

Maggie's mouth dropped open.

"Ok," she stammered. "That's fine. Sure."

"I'll give you a call," said Gareth, "and we'll get together in the Senior Common Room one lunchtime. One of the photography students has taken some photographs of the game. We'll wait until those are developed, then choose whatever we think is best for the magazine. I'd like to send an article in to our local paper, too."

"Wow," croaked Maggie. "Okay." She walked off in a daze to find her father, who was sitting on a bench outside the staff room with his ankle heavily bandaged. Nick was giving him a blow by blow description of the game.

"Maggie was amazing," he said. "She was so confident."

"No, I wasn't," said Maggie, "but I did it anyway. It was much easier with linesmen," she added.

Maggie found herself suddenly very popular in the next few days. Her classmates, many of whom had complained bitterly about having to keep a journal for Mr Marshall, were now united in their support for her. Excitement increased as the class took their fitness tests and the day of the end of term assembly approached.

"You're sure to win the prize for the best journal," whispered Melanie as they took their places in the assembly hall on the last day of term. Maggie couldn't speak. Her fingers were firmly crossed for luck. They listened to the jazz band play and joined in the school song. The headmaster gave the usual speech about 'trying hard at all times' and 'behaving responsibly in the holidays.' Various notices were read out and mid-year subject achievement certificates were presented. At last Mr Marshall stepped forward.

"I have a special announcement to make," he said. "At a suggestion from one of the pupils, my Year 9 English class had a fitness test and kept a weekly journal to record their involvement in sports and exercise programmes during the term. I am delighted to tell you that nearly all the class kept up their journal and improved their fitness level. They will be rewarded with a trip to the mountain one day next term."

Maggie's class promptly cheered. Jacob put his fingers between his teeth and whistled, which drew a rebuking frown from the headmaster. Mr Marshall raised his hand for silence.

"I also promised a prize to the student with the best kept journal. This is going to a pupil who has excelled in their chosen sport and brought great credit to the school. This pupil has done well in more than one sport and has been recognised at both Regional and National level. The award goes to – Seth Hardy."

There was an outbreak of applause and more whistling from Jacob as a beaming Seth walked up the hall and climbed the steps to the stage. Mr Marshall handed him a certificate and a book voucher. Maggie clapped hard. She had been so sure she would win. She bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from crying. Mr Marshall sat down with the other teachers.

The headmaster stepped forward.

"Before you go," he said, "we have one more award. It was decided through discussion with the PTA that the school should offer an achievement award each year for any junior student who has contributed in an outstanding manner to an aspect of school life." He motioned to his deputy, Ms Shirley, who carried forward a huge silver cup. The students gasped. The headmaster continued. "This award goes to a student who is probably not our best student either academically or in the sports area. However, she has shown that by determined effort it is possible to make a great contribution to our school. I refer, of course, to our young referee, Maggie Johnson. Maggie, come forward please."

Maggie found herself propelled towards the stage by hands patting her on the back as the cheers rang out. She climbed the steps in a daze of happiness and accepted the large cup the headmaster handed to her.

"Well done, Maggie. Would you like to say a few words?" he asked.

"Oh," said Maggie, modestly, "it was nothing, really!"

