I woke up suddenly and cried with pain. Being hit in the face was not a nice way to be wakened.

My eyes blinked in the sudden light. Looking up I could see my step father glaring down at me.

Football Girl

By Susan Brown

Chapter 1

1

I woke up suddenly and cried with pain. Being hit in the face was not a nice way to be wakened.

My eyes blinked in the sudden light. Looking up I could see my step father glaring down at me.

'You bloody faggot. I told you what I would do if I caught you again.'

Bringing my legs up to my chin, I waited for him to tell me what I already knew. The thin cotton material of my nightie did nothing to stop me shivering as beer ravaged face glared down at me.

My face still smarted at the stinging blow and I was close to tears but there was no way that I would show weakness in front of this shit.

I wondered fleetingly where my mum was; probably hiding away from this bully of a man.

'When I get home tonight I don't want to see you here. Take yourself and all those slutty girls’ clothes and get out. Do you understand?'

I just nodded.

He looked down at me, contempt on his face. I hated him more than anyone else that I had ever known. Why my mum ever loved or even liked him, I would never know.

‘You disgust me, you pervert. Why don’t you be like a man, eh? ’Cause you’re a little queer who wears girls clothes. I don’t want to ever see you again, understand? If you try to contact me or your mum, I’ll kill you. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?’

I didn’t say anything. I knew his temper and mood swings only too well. I could have said that I was only 15 and a minor, but he wouldn’t care. My mum had been under his thumb for three years, ever since she made the mistake of marrying him. She was probably in the bedroom now, under the covers, hiding away, not wanting another beating again. I have marks on my body from the many times that he beat me, too.

My Dad died 4 years ago and I still miss him. Mum met Ken–my step dad at a social do. He is a van driver working at the same place that mum does; she works in the office. They got on well evidently and initially, things seemed to go OK. I didn’t meet him until about three months after they first went out. He seemed all right at first and bent over backwards to be nice to me. All that changed after they got married. We began to see what he was really like…a bully, cheat, drinker and womanizer.

I won’t go on about the beatings that both me and mum had to endure. The drinking normally made him that way, but recently things had been getting worse. He would have a go at me in particular as he had found out about my dressing habits, catching me out twice when he came home early from work

Mum had known for some time that I liked dressing and being a girl. I couldn’t explain why I am like it. It’s something I think that I was born with. Mum understood somehow that I’m not like other boys, being gentle and loving, not interested in boys games and preferring the company of girls. I first started dressing when I was about four, although I can’t remember it too well. Mum didn’t encourage me, it was all my idea. Because I was so insistent, mum bought me a few items of girls’ clothes and I wore them around the house when I could. Also I practiced with makeup in the security of my room–with the door bolted, of course. Dad, being a lorry driver wasn’t there much and it was the times that he was away that Susan came out. He did see me once or twice dressed, but was tolerant enough to put it down to my ‘playing’.

My step dad on the other hand, was someone who couldn’t tolerate queers, lesbians or drag artists like what he called me or any other minority. He tried to beat the gentleness and femininity out of me, but you can’t change who you are, so despite the terrible treatment, physical and mental, I was still Susan. The only thing he liked about me was my love of football.

I suppose it helped that I was a good player. I saw nothing strange about liking football. Many girls play now and there are countless leagues out there playing to a very good standard. Of course being–outwardly anyway–a boy, meant that I had to play as a boy. None of the leagues around where I lived had mixed teams, although there has been talk of changing that for next season. I just played with a lot of mates over at the playing fields.

My mind was brought back to the present by yet another smack around the face. It was hard enough to make me cry.

‘Are you listening, you poofter? I want you out of here by the time I get home. If you are still here, you’ll be carried out in a box!’

With that, he gave me one more disgusted look and went out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

A few seconds later, I could hear him shout at mum. I wanted to go to her, but knew, if I did, he would go berserk. I hid my head under the covers, shaking with fear and the knowledge that I was being made homeless.

A few minutes later, I heard the front door slam….he had gone. I got up and went out into the hall. I knocked on mum’s door and on hearing her sobbing; I opened it and went in.

She was sitting on the bed, cradling a pillow like it was a baby, she was crying and rocking at the same time. Going over to her, I sat down and put my arm around her. After a few minutes, she seemed to pull herself together. She looked at me and touched my sore cheek.

‘Oh, Mark, what are we going to do?’

‘He said I had to go.’

‘I know. He’s like that, blows hot and cold. He’ll probably be OK tonight.’

‘Why don’t we just go?’

‘We can’t.’

‘Why not, he’s a bully and I hate him. Anyway, he wants me out and I think that he means it.’

‘I’m sure he doesn’t. When he comes home tonight we’ll get around the kitchen table and talk things through.’

‘Mum, I can’t take this anymore. I’m leaving.’

‘You can’t leave, you’re only 15!’

‘So, I’ll be 16 in a few months and then I can go where I like…I’m just going a bit early. Anyway I don’t want to be here when he gets home.’

‘I did tell you not to dress as a girl when he’s at home.’

‘I thought that I’d bolted the door last night, I must have forgot.’

‘You must stay here, Mark, you can’t live on your own; you are too young.’

‘Why don’t you come with me mum?’

‘I…I…can’t.’

‘Why not? He hits you more than he does me. He’s no good, he’s not like dad.’

‘I…I won’t go.’

‘Why not?’

‘I…still…love him.’

‘WHAT! How could you still love him after all he has done to you?’

‘I can’t explain it. I won’t leave him. I will make things better. It’s my fault that he’s this way. I need to apologise and make things better.’

‘Mum, can you hear yourself? It’s not your fault that he spends all the money on drinking and gambling and it’s not your fault that he’s a bully. Please, please come with me. We could go now, just get dressed and pack a few things; we could be out of here in an hour and go somewhere where he can’t get to us.’

Looking at mum, I could see the indecision on her tear stained face, then her lips hardened.

‘No, I’m staying.’

I got up and looked down at her.

‘Sorry mum, I have to go.’

‘You can’t go. YOU ARE TOO YOUNG!’

More tears coursed down my face as I left the room, shutting the door behind me. I nearly turned back as I could hear my mum crying behind the closed door, but I knew that I had to get out. Perhaps things would get better if I was out of the way. Maybe my step father couldn’t cope with bringing me up. Anyway, I had decided what I was going to do so now I had to go through with it.

I went into the bathroom and took off my sweat stained nightie. I got under the shower and tried to wash off the pain and suffering. Of course it didn’t do anything of the sort.

Luckily I wasn’t shaving yet and what body hair I had was like a fine down rather than proper manly hairs, not that I wanted those! I didn’t wash my shoulder length blond hair as I didn’t have time to dry it. Now I had decided to get out, the sooner I did it the better. I didn’t want my mum to try and persuade me to stay and the longer I stayed, the more chance she would have of trying to stop me.

After drying myself, I picked up my nightie and went into my bedroom. Standing on a chair, I took the suitcase from the top of the wardrobe and put it on the bed.

Inside already were my girls’ clothes. I put the nightie in a carrier bag and stuffed it down the side of the case. Opening the wardrobe, I took out some shirts, jeans and trousers and a few sweatshirts. I had two sets of football kit too and I folded everything carefully up and put the clothes in the case, together with some slippers, a pair of shoes and some trainers. To this I added some boys’ under things and socks.

Going over to my chest of drawers I opened the bottom drawer. At the back were my girls’ panties, padded bras, tights and a three night dresses. Taking them out, I folded them in the case and tried to shut it.

Closing the case was a bit hard as it was a somewhat full. I was concerned that my dresses and other things were going to get creased and hoped that I was going to be able to have the use an iron from somewhere.

My rucksack was hanging from a hook on the back of the door and I picked it up and opened it. At the bottom was my football boots, in the bag that came with them. From under my bed, I pulled out my pink makeup bag and put it in the rucksack together with my hair dryer and brush. Then, I went back into the bathroom and picked up my wash bag, stuffed all my toiletries in it and then, after checking that I had everything I needed, I went back into my bedroom and put everything into the rucksack.

On a chair were the clothes that I had got out the night before to wear for today; just my football track suit, t-shirt, pants and white socks. After dressing quickly, I had a good look around the room and picked up my ipod, mobile phone and wallet and put them in with my laptop in its padded case. I was now nearly ready to go.

Sitting on the bed to do up my trainers, I took one last look around the bedroom that had been part of my home for all of my life. I didn’t want to leave…I shouldn’t have to leave, but I had to get out. I was determined not to cry. I had nice memories of the house especially when dad was alive. After my step father moved in, things changed and it just wasn’t the same place any more.

Sighing, I stood up, grabbed my case, laptop bag and rucksack, took one more look around the room and reluctantly went out into the hall. To say that I had a lump in my throat would be an understatement.

I knocked on mum’s door.

‘Mum, I…I’m going now.’

She opened her door; I could see that she had been crying. Taking one look at my case, her eyes started to get wet again and tears started forming in the corners of her eyes.

‘Don’t go, Mark. Wait till he gets home. I’m sure it can be cleared up, love. Families always row.’

‘Mum, you know what he’s like. I’m not going to let him hit me anymore and anyway, he told me to get out. Please come with me.’

She shook her head.

‘I can’t.’ she whispered.

My lips trembled and I found it very hard not to give in. I gave her a quick hug and a kiss on her wet cheek.

‘Bye mum, I’ll let you know where I am as soon as I’m settled…love you.’

Without another glance, I picked up my case and rucksack and left her. It was so hard to ignore the sobs and calls to make me stay, but I did. I had made my decision and now I had to follow it through.

2

I worked part time at a café opposite the playing fields where I play football. Jeff, the owner was a nice man, about thirty, with a wife and two tiny children. I had always been able to talk with Jeff and as I didn’t have anywhere to go, I went to the café for breakfast. It was quiet when I walked in and there was only two other customers there, with Jeff behind the counter. As I walked in, Jeff looked up and smiled.

‘Hi, Mark, looking for an extra shift?’

‘No, just breakfast.’ I said dumping my suitcase and rucksack down by the side of the counter.

‘What's with the case, going on holiday?’

‘No.’ I laughed bitterly, ‘I’ve been chucked out.’

‘You’re not 16 yet!’

‘I know, tell that to my step father. Anyway, at least he won’t hit me anymore.’

The two customers left and Jeff came out from behind the counter, went over to the door, locked it and turned the closed sign on.

‘Right sit there and I’ll get you some breakfast. What do you fancy?’

‘Egg bacon sausage toast and a cup of tea please. Look you don’t have to shut the café because of me.’

‘Yes I do. Anyway, it’s quiet this morning after the rush and I could do with a break myself.’

Ten minutes later, I was tucking into my breakfast and in between bites, telling Jeff all that had occurred that morning–all except my dressing habits that is!

‘I never did like Ken; why your mum married him, I’ll never know. Do you want me to speak to the police about him? He shouldn’t be allowed to hit you or your mum.’

I shook my head.

‘No, mum won’t ever prosecute and anyway if I did something mum would be the one to suffer.’

‘So, what now?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well where are you going to live for starters and what about school?’

‘Stuff school; It’s the pits anyway. An all boy’s school that breeds criminals and where the bullies rule. I have always hated it and in a few months I’ll be 16 and then I was going to leave anyway.’

‘You got good GCSE grades, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, though I don’t know how, as the school was crappy. I got six A grades and one A-Star.’

‘You should stay on; you could get A Levels and then go to university.’

‘No, I don’t want any more school.’

‘You didn’t tell me about where you are going to live.’

‘I don’t know; I might stay at a motel like Travelodge for a few days and then get a flat or something.’

‘That will cost.’

‘I know, but I got some money when dad died and that will help until I get back on my feet.’

Jeff looked at me, hesitated and then spoke.

‘Look, Mark, I would love to have you at my house, but it’s small, not big enough to swing a cat, what with the kids and everything…’

‘I don’t want…’

‘Hear me out. As I say, I don’t have any space at my house, but if you want, until you sort yourself out, you can stay in the flat upstairs here for a while. I’ve just done it up and intended to rent it out...you can stay there if you like: mind you, we really ought to speak to social services; you are still under age…’

‘Please don’t Jeff. They won’t want to know me after I’m 16.’

‘Well, technically, you are a minor until 18.’

‘I know, but they are more interested in small kids. You know what it’s like.’

‘Okay, but if things don’t work out, then we will have to go down that route.’

‘Thanks Jeff, you are a star. How much do you want for rent?’

‘I wouldn’t charge you anything, but I know how stubborn you are. How about fifty pounds a week and a few extra shifts?’

‘That sounds great.’

‘Good, you can go and put your stuff upstairs in a minute. I’ll show you everything after you’ve finished feeding your face.’

3

The flat had a separate door at the side of the building. As I followed Jeff up the stairs, I wondered if the flat was going to be all right for my purposes. Then I smiled: anything would be better than living at home at the moment.

At the top of the stairs was another door. Jeff put the key in the lock and then opened the door, motioning me to go in.

‘Have a look around and then come down and see me; here are the keys,’ he said handing them to me and then going down the stairs.

I walked into the lounge which was quite big. It had a large window to the front, another at the back, together with a door which led to a small balcony with metal railings.

The carpet was powder blue and looked almost new. There was a sofa and two easy chairs, a small TV and table in the corner. The walls were cream coloured and looked freshly painted. All in all, it was a nice light airy room and I loved it.

Then I looked at the kitchen, which was small but had a cooker, fridge freezer and microwave. The bedroom was about half the size of the lounge and had a double bed in it. Once again the carpet was blue and the walls were cream. There was a small walk in wardrobe in the corner, a chest of drawers and in another corner, next to the large window, a dressing table and red padded chair.

Next, I wandered into the bathroom. It was a decent sized room with a bath over to one side and on the other was a shower cubicle and next to that was the wash basin and toilet. Over the wash basin was a large mirror with a strip light over it. The floor had cream tiles that matched the tiles on the walls.

Going back to the lounge, I sat on the sofa, not quite believing my luck. This place was great and I couldn’t believe that Jeff was letting me have it for just fifty pounds a week!

After a few minutes, I went downstairs and shut the front door behind me. Going back into the café, I saw that Jeff had opened up again and had several customers. I took off my track suit top and put on an apron, thinking that this was a good time to repay his kindness. Jeff smiled as he saw me. I just gave him a thumbs up sign and started clearing some dirty plates and cups from the tables.

We were kept busy for an hour and I didn’t have much chance to talk to Jeff as he was knee deep in fry-ups. However, the breakfast rush finally went down to a trickle and we were able to talk between serving the few remaining customers.

‘Jeff, the flat is really great. Are you sure you only want fifty pounds a week?’

‘Yes, I would prefer someone who I like and trust to pay that rather than someone else who pays double and trashes the place.’

‘Well thanks anyway. I think it’s great–you helping me out like this.’

‘Well the wife would kill me if I hadn’t helped you out. You know she thinks of you as a sort of surrogate son.’

I smiled as I thought of Josie, Jeff’s wife; a bubbly little thing with a happy smile and normally knee deep in nappies. The lovely twins were six months old, both beautiful little girls with sparse blond curly hair and gorgeous blue eyes. Josie was such a nice woman and always makes a fuss when I see her. She was one of my favourite people and I love her almost as much as my mum. I had worked in the café since I was thirteen, first doing odd jobs and then helping behind the counter. It got me out of the house and had the added advantage of being near the playing fields where I played football as much as possible. It was now 10 o’clock and the normal closing time for the café. It reopened normally at 11.30 for lunches and after closing the doors, Jeff helped me upstairs with my case, using the internal door at the back of the café.

At the top of the stairs, I unlocked the door and went into my–yes my!–flat with Jeff following close behind.

Dumping the case on the floor of the lounge, Jeff looked around.

‘Do you like it?’

‘Yes, Jeff, it’s great.’

‘That’s good. Look, I have a spare set of keys just if I need to get in, in case of emergency, but as far as I am concerned, this is your home and I will never come in without your permission and I won’t just turn up without checking with you first. By the front door is an intercom telephone that leads down to the café. If I want to come up, I’ll ring you first, okay?’

‘Thanks Jeff, you’re a star.’

‘Well, maybe…anyway, pop downstairs when you want and take some milk and bread and any other stuff you need to tide you over, out of the pantry. You will need to do your own shopping as well, now you are living on your own.’

‘Thanks Jeff.’

‘Don’t keep thanking me. You are doing me a favour really, the flat needs living in. Anyway, thanks for helping out downstairs.’

‘Do you need help at lunch time?’

‘No, I should manage today. Just get yourself settled in.’

‘Okay.’

With that, Jeff left and I was alone in my flat…MY flat!’

4

I had another quick look around and then looked in the fridge…it was empty of course, so rather than raid Jeff’s pantry, I picked up the keys and let myself out. There was a small Co-op supermarket just five minutes’ walk away and I went there to get some stuff.

Just twenty minutes later I came back with three carrier bags full of food and other necessities.

After loading the fridge and the cupboards, I went into the bedroom and emptied my case on the bed. Putting my boys stuff on the left and my girls stuff to the right, I realised immediately that I didn’t have that much girls’ stuff to wear. Just four tops and skirts, two dresses including an LBD that I had bought off of EBay and hadn’t even tried on yet, a pair of girls jeans a couple of pairs of shorts, some nice white Capri’s and that was it. I needed to go back home at some stage and pick up the rest of my stuff, but was reluctant to do that unless it became really necessary.

I put everything away in the wardrobe and drawers, boys stuff to the left and girls to the right. Once I had done that, I grabbed a coke from the fridge and sat down in the lounge. I had some thinking to do.

As I sipped my drink, I looked back on the morning that had begun so violently and sadly. Many times in the past I had been disgusted with myself for wanting to dress and be a girl, thinking that it was strange and a bit wacky.

I had bought my laptop out of the money left to me by my dad. I also paid for the broadband connection. Also I had a mobile wireless contract with the mobile phone company, so I still had access to the net even here. Surfing the net made me realise that I wasn’t alone out there. Others were like me, trying to find some sense out of my need to relate to being a girl. I discovered that it was probable that I was born this way and there was a name for it–transgendered. It wasn’t my fault that I was like this, just like it wasn’t my fault that I had blond hair–it just was.

I missed my mum already, we had always been close and when dad died, we helped each other to cope, even though I was quite young. I suppose that having a tragedy like that happen makes you grow up quickly and I suppose that it did in my case.

I was feeling a bit down and then I got to thinking. I was alone in my own flat–I still liked the sound of it–I could dress as I liked and no one would object! Suddenly things started to look up. I had to dress as a boy outside, but I didn’t have to here! Looking out of the window, I could see that the flat wasn’t overlooked by other buildings. Unless I paraded in front of the windows, I would be unseen by anyone else. Yes things were looking up.

I looked at my watch and remembered that I had agreed to meet the lads for a practice match after lunch. I quickly made myself a sandwich–I didn’t want eat much as exercise and too much eating do not mix very well.

I changed into my football strip–blue shirt, white shorts and stockings–after that I put on my tracksuit and trainers. I emptied my rucksack of the stuff I didn’t need, just leaving my shin pads, boots, a red shirt in case I was in the red team this time, a bottle of water and a towel in there. Then I made my way downstairs, locking the door carefully behind me. I smiled at the thought that I now had my own front door and key! I waved at Jeff through the café window and made my way across the road to the playing fields.

5

In no time I was playing football and, for the moment, forgetting all my troubles.

I didn’t belong to a proper club; it was just a bunch of friends who came over the playing fields to have a friendly game of football. I suppose that there were about thirty of us that did it on a fairly regular basis. There were twenty pitches on the playing fields and they were never fully used even at the weekend so we didn’t ever have a problem getting a pitch. It did help that one of the lads–Phillip–had a dad who just happened to be the head groundsman!

Normally, we had enough lads turn up to make up two teams, occasionally even with substitutes too!

Anyway, today we just scraped eleven a side and we had a very good match. Three spectators helped by being the ref and linesmen. I played as a sort of attacking mid fielder; helping the defence, linking with the forwards and making the occasional stab at the goal. I played a good game, making 2 goals and being in the thick of most things. It was the second half and just a few minutes left. It looked like it was going to be a draw. Then I managed to tackle the ball away from the opposition and took the ball up field rather quickly. Too quickly really as none of my team mates were keeping up! I had three players plus the goal keeper in front of me. I jinked around the first player, nutmegged* the second and then flipped the ball over the head of the third. That just left the goal keeper. I could hear some heavy breathing behind me and wondered if someone was going to give me a lunging tackle from behind.

Jake was the goal keeper, a big lad about my age. He was quick on his feet and he came towards me. I was about twenty yards from the goal and I had to do something quick, so I lobbed the ball over the advancing keeper and the ball went sailing into the net, just under the bar. Just after that the whistle went and we had won the game–just. I was mobbed by my team and it was a great end to the game. Quite a few people were watching from the touchline and we all got clapped as we walked off to collect our gear. There were changing rooms and showers for those who needed them, but I was a bit shy of my body and normally went home to shower and change. After saying goodbye to everyone and with congratulations ringing in my ears, I started to walk back to my new home.

‘Excuse me.’

I turned around to the sound of the voice. It was an old chap, at least 40 and he was looking at me with a smile on his face.

‘Hello.’

‘I saw the game–you were very good.’

‘I don’t know about that…lucky I suppose.’

‘When you are good, you make your own luck.’

‘Erm…thanks.’

‘I know that you are cooling down and need a shower, son, but just a quick word?’

‘Okay…’

‘As I say, you are good. I’ve seen you play several times…you are head and shoulders better than anyone else here. How many goals have you made over the past few weeks, I’ve seen you play 4 times?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘Well I counted ten and those are only ones I saw. What about goals…how many goals have you scored?’

‘Eight…I think.’

‘I counted nine,’

‘What’s all this about?’ I said, uncomfortable at being praised like this.

‘’If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?’

’15 nearly 16.’

‘A good enough age. I’m a scout for Melchester United; here’s my card. Have a word with your parents and get them to contact me. I think you would do well…very well and I’d like you to come to the club for a trial. Would you like to do that?’

My heart went into my mouth. Would I! You bet. I had loved football ever since I kicked my first ball on the beach with my dad when I was 4 years old.

‘I…I’m not good enough.’ I said, doubt creeping in to my voice.

‘I think you are, Mark. Have a chat with your parents and get them to give me a call. There is a trial match next Monday, if you want to come, I’ll give you the details after your parents ring me, okay?’

I just nodded, not knowing what to say.

‘Good lad, bye!’

He walked off, leaving me to walk the small distance to the café and my new home.

6

Being early January, it was starting to get dark as I arrived at the café. Jeff was just closing the café up and turned around as I walked up.

‘Hi Jeff.’

‘Hi yourself; had a good game?’

‘Yeah, it was great; I scored and made two other goals.’

‘If you’re not careful, you’ll be snapped up by one of the big clubs,’ he remarked smiling.

‘Funny you should say that…oh I’ll tell you tomorrow. Do you want a hand in the morning for breakfasts?’

‘No, have a lie in, it’s Sunday tomorrow, after all.’

‘Well just ring the flat if things get heavy.’

‘I will. I was going to ask if you want to come home for your tea, I know the wife will tell me off for not asking, but I expect you want to settle in.’

‘Yes, thanks for the offer. I’ll probably see you some time tomorrow.’

‘Okay, bye.’

‘See you,’

Jeff got into his car and drove off. I was getting a bit chilly as the sweat started to dry on my football kit so, shivering slightly, I fished my keys out and let myself in to my flat.

Once inside, I turned on the lights, dumped my rucksack on the floor then pulled the curtains across the windows.

Stripping quickly in the bathroom, I had a shower and washed the mud and sweat from my body. I used some nice scented shower gel called ‘Just For Girls’ and it smelt of strawberries–very nice. Then I washed my hair and used some conditioner. Stepping out of the shower, I dried myself off with a towel, thoughtfully provided by Jeff and then used my hair dryer to dry my hair.

My hair felt nice and soft when I had finished brushing it, I love clean, freshly washed hair. Going back to the bedroom, I opened the wardrobe, deciding what to wear. I decided on a Jane Norman white V neck top, it was short sleeved with a sequin detail below the bust. It went well with my black pull up skirt that went just above the knee. I put on my padded bra. It gave me a small but definite bust when I filled the cups with tissues, not ideal, but I didn’t have any breast forms yet. Then I pulled on some matching while cotton panties, quite tight so that they could help keep the boy bits up and out of the way. Next I put some flesh coloured tights on and marvelled as I always do, at the way they hug my legs and make me feel very feminine. I slipped up the skirt and then went back into the bathroom, where there was some good light.

Unzipping my makeup bag, I took everything out and put the items on the shelf just below the mirror; I picked up a scrunchie and pulled my hair back out of the way. I didn’t go much for heavy makeup as my skin was soft and I hadn’t started shaving–yet. I dreaded the day that would happen, but for now I was lucky.

I put on a very small amount of foundation, just enough to cover any blemishes, then a touch of pink blusher as I didn’t want to look all washed out. Next, I concentrated on my eyes; I think they are my best feature, blue and wide looking. Anyway, some dark blue shadow to emphasise my eyes and some black mascara on my long lashes completed the job. Finally, I concentrated on my lips, I used pink lip pencil to trace the outline of my lips and then some lip gloss was carefully applied. After using a tissue to get rid of the excess lippy, I had finished–twenty minutes from start to finish–I was getting better!

Returning to the bedroom, I carefully put on my top, taking care to keep it clear of my face. I hate makeup on clothes.

I quickly rebrushed my hair in the long mirror on the back of the wardrobe door and then stepped back to admire myself.

The reflection showed a pretty girl of about 16 or 17 and I couldn’t see much of Mark. Nodding to my reflection, I went and sat on the sofa. Looking at my stockinged feet reminded me that I didn’t have any girls’ shoes. I needed to get some and I wondered if I ought to chance going to the shopping centre some time or order on line like I did with most of my other girls things. Shoes were funny; I really preferred to try them on to see if they fitted okay…hmm.

Anyway, it was nearly six by now and I wondered where the afternoon had gone. I was a bit hungry and decided to get something to eat. Going out for a takeaway was not an option so I opened the freezer and picked out a frozen pizza, I had bought a couple from the supermarket.

Popping it in the oven, I knew that it would only take about fifteen minutes to cook.

I went back into the lounge and switched on the TV. On the news was an item about Melchester United; they had just bought another player for fifteen million pounds from Brazil. I wondered about the man I had met on the playing fields…was he winding me up? I went over to my track top and fished the card out of the pocket. On it was his contact details… Harry Collins, scout - Melchester United. There was an office and mobile number and in the corner the distinctive crest of Melchester United. Well it looked genuine enough. I could smell pizza coming from the kitchen so I put the card on the table and went to get my tea.

It was strange sitting at the small kitchen table eating pizza dressed in a skirt and top and with makeup on. Looking at the half finished glass of coke, I could see the lipstick marks clearly on it. It was nice, not having to be worried about being caught or anything. I finished my meal, quickly did the washing up and then sat down to watch a film I fancied that was due to start. It was High School Musical, it was a bit cheesy but I enjoyed it!

When the film finished, I watched a sitcom and then the news again. Yawning, I realised that it was getting late and decided that it was time for bed.

Twenty minutes later, I had removed my makeup, did the usual bedtime things and was in bed wearing my favourite long pink silky nightie. It had been a long day and I was tired as much because of the emotion of all the things that had happened rather than anything else. The day had started horribly yet ended so much better. I wondered how mum was and whether I ought to contact her tomorrow. I also didn’t know what to do about going for a trial with Melchester United. I desperately wanted to go, but knowing the fact that my parents would have to be involved meant that there were probably going to be problems over all of this.

To be continued...

*nutmegged - playing the ball through an opponent's legs.

Please leave comments...thanks

My thanks go to the brilliant and lovely Gabi for editing and pulling the story into shape.