Page 91 of Look What You Made Me Do

Ella cleared her throat. “What I’m trying to say, is the boys have done their best and I don’t want them to get their hopes up too high. It’s alright to admit defeat, you know. There can even be honor in it.”

A shout on the video drew everyone’s attention to the television as the Chiswick College boys ran back onto the field. The person behind the camera said, “What do you think, Coach?” and swung around for a close-up of a man wearing a shirt that said Coach.

The shot was blurry and came slowly into focus.

“We’ve got this one in the bag,” the Chiswick coach said. “The opposition are a pack of limp dick, pansy-assed cry-babies that play like a bunch of girls. They might as well have their cheerleaders play the game for them. At least we’d have a bit of tits and ass action to look at.”

Everyone stared in horror at the screen. “Yeah,” Pete said sheepishly over the continuing tirade of abuse. “Thought I’d leave that bit to last. Tony Winchester’s son plays for Chiswick. He’s just scored the head coaching gig there.”

Ella stared at the face on the screen as it continued to mouth horrible obscenities about the opposition like they were brainless zombies and their cheerleaders like they were there for his sexual pleasure. A wave of disgust swept through her, heating her skin and flushing her face. She already detested the man for what he’d done to Trish but this tirade was turning her vision red.

“Forget what I just said.” She turned to Jake. “I want you to win. Not just win but I want you to crush that smarmy asshole into the dust. And then when he’s down, I want you to stomp on his neck so he can never utter another vile word.”

Grinning, Jake performed a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she muttered and reached across to the table for the remote, flicking a button to switch it off.

Tony Winchester wasn’t welcome in their house.

19

Ella sat in the plush locker rooms at Chiswick College on a cold clear Saturday morning listening to Jake and Pete give their pre-game talk to the Demons. She could see the impossibly green, manicured field through the slats of the blind covering the window. As if a team of trained leprechauns had individually trimmed each blade of grass.

Occasional shouts from the large crowd filtered in as the astringent aroma of Deep Heating assaulted her senses. There was a kaleidoscope of butterflies in her stomach. Butterflies that had swallowed elephants.

She wanted to win. Not for her or for Jake or for Deluca, but for Trish. She wanted to see Tony Winchester go down.

“Ella?”

Jake and Pete were looking at her expectantly and Ella guessed it was her turn to speak. She enjoyed the tradition of her principal pep talk more and more each time and so, she thought, did the team. Or at least, it was a ritual they’d dare not buck in case any deviation from routine brought bad luck.

And they called women flighty!

She looked at each of the boys in turn. She could tell they were a little awed by their surroundings. Chiswick College was a physically impressive campus – landscaped gardens, space-age classrooms, intimidating sandstone buildings reeking of wealth.

And they were looking to her to tell them it didn’t matter. That how you played the game and the size of your heart trumped money and tradition.

But today she was reluctant.

Today she wanted to say things she never thought she’d ever think, let alone contemplate giving voice to. She wanted to say kill them, smash them, play dirty if you have to, gouge their eyes, punch them in the kidneys, spear their rich little heads into the ground if needs be – just win.

At any cost.

It went against everything she believed in but it was right there on the tip of her tongue, waging a battle against her political correctness to be heard.

“Ella?” Jake prompted.

She glanced at him. He was nodding at her to get on with it and she stood automatically, her gaze falling on Cameron. He was sitting so tall. So confident. And when he smiled at her she knew she’d come too far with him to take him backward.

Her legs trembled a little as she cleared her throat. “I’m not going to say much,” she said. “You guys have already done me and Deluca and Jake and Pete so proud. You’ve come a long way and earned yourselves a fearsome reputation. I know you want to win today. Well, guess what? I want you to win today, too.”

The Demons glanced at her with confused looks. They weren’t used to their principal being so outcome focused. But, as her words slowly dawned on them, they started to grin and, one by one, they started to clap and stomp their boots until the locker room was filled with an almighty clatter.

“So go on now,” she called out above the din, holding up her hand and waiting for the racket to die down. “Let’s get out there and show them how we do it on the southside.”

The team sprang to their feet, cheering and clapping and Ella laughed, caught up in the heady mix of exuberance and testosterone.

“Way to go, Ms. Lucas,” Jake murmured as the boys filed out of the room.

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