‘Tis better to be seen

Abstract

The car pulls into the curb near the start of Wendywood Lane. “I’ll drop you here Kate. Have a good game.” With the slam of the car door and a yell of “Thank you Mrs Thompson,” I hurtle off down the street. Why am I am always running late? Earlier that morning dad told me he was heading into town early to collect a few things and would then drive straight to my game. “I’ll be there after I’ve picked up the trees from the nursery,” were my father’s final words as he drove off. Cool, no worries. I’ll ride my bike in, meet him at the game and then get a lift home. This thought was followed by the stomach-sickening feeling of going out to the garage and seeing the rubber tread of my bike tyre as flat as a pancake underneath the rim of the wheel. A flattie on my usually reliable HMX 1000. Damn. Luckily Mrs Thompson hadn’t left for work. Mrs Thompson speeds off and my attention turns to my destination. The sound of my Adidas sprigs scratching and clawing at the concrete as I sprint down Wendywood Lane towards the school draws attention and interested looks, not to mention amusement, from the early morning gardeners and people shuffling out to collect the paper. With lungs nearly bursting and my breath heaving painfully in my chest, the picket fences and hydrangeas blur beside me as I eventually round the corner to the back of the school fields. I scan the horizon for my school colours. I can just make out the yellow and blue strip of my hockey team as they gather together by the dug outs. Parents are starting to gather on the sideline and joust for the position closest to the coach. I search along the line for a glimpse of my father. Not there yet. I know that he’ll be there soon. “Sorry I’m late Mr Richards, my bike had a flat tyre and I had to ask my neighbour for a ride on her way to work.” Tall and towering, wearing three-stripe tracksuit pants and a big warm overcoat, Mr Richard’s daunting figure overlooks a huddle of excited and twitching potential Tina Bells and Mandy Smiths. He turns towards me. As I look into his mirror aviator sunglasses, a gangly, blond, wide-eyed girl, her cheeks flushed from running, her warm breath visible in the cold morning air stares back at me. I hesitantly smile up at him. “Glad you could make it Kate. Today is going to be a big one.” “Yes, I know, even my Dad is coming,” I declare.