Alice Henderson On Debut

Twenty-one

Our first training session is pretty basic and only goes for an hour, but it's full on. We don't even touch a bat. It's all ball skills and fitness, I guess to see where everyone's at. Charlie makes good on her promise to be the fittest wicketkeeper, out-running most of our team in the beep test. And every time she hit the stumps on ground fielding drills, she celebrated wildly, which annoyed Paris and a couple of the girls who seem to have decided to be her best friends. I think I did okay for a first session and not really knowing what to expect. Most of the drills were the same or similar to what I'd do with the boys whenever I trained with them, only more intense, which surprised me. I really had no idea how competitive girls could be.

By the time we break for lunch, we're all buzzing with excitement. We've got our first crack at a nets session this afternoon, which I'm really looking forward to and a movie night scheduled in the big common room tonight. And judging by our schedules, tomorrow is when we start to get really serious and have some sessions with the Brisbane team.

The dining hall is cacophonous now what with our camp and the Brisbane squad all in the one room. Charlie is excited at our food selection again, especially when she spots the lasagne in the bain-marie. "I think," she says, as she piles food onto her plate, "that I may have been too quick to judge boarding schools." I grab a half-serve of lasagne and some salad and follow Charlie over to a table where a couple of our team mates are sitting. They smile as we sit down.

Paris, Shari and a few others I don't recognise are sitting at the table beside us. Judging by their training shirts, they're part of the Brisbane squad. Paris leans over and says, "Interesting choice of food." I guess she's referring to our lasagne.

"Thanks," Charlie says. She nods at Paris's miniscule salad. "You too."

"If you want to be a champion, you need to eat like one," Paris replies. The girls at her table nod in agreement.

"Well just so you know," Charlie says, "my uncle was a champion amateur boxer, and all he ate was pasta."

Paris narrows her eyes. I have no idea if Charlie's telling the truth or not but without even trying, she's just put Paris in her place, and I can't help but feel good about that. Paris turns back to her friends and whispers something that makes them laugh, but Charlie ignores them and turns her attention back to her plate. She shovels in a mouthful of lasagne, and just like last night, groans as she eats it. The other girls at our table, Georgia and Nicki laugh.

"Is she always like this?" Nicki asks.

"Ever since I met her," I reply, and Charlie cracks up laughing.

Jules Livingstone sits down with some team mates a few tables away. Charlie stops mid-chew to gawk at her.

"I can't believe they even picked her," Paris says, stabbing at her salad.

Charlie finishes chewing her food. "Why? She's one of the best there is."

"She's out of form, that's why."

Charlie snorts. "And you know this how?"

Paris pokes at her salad. "Because I know."

Charlie looks from Paris to me, and I shrug. Charlie says, "Do you know her?"

Paris doesn't answer straight away. Finally, with all eyes on her, she says, "I know people who've played against her."

Charlie leans in. "So you don't know her?"

Paris drops her fork onto her plate and looks up. "Why do you want to know?"

Charlie grins back at her. "Do you think you could get me her autograph?"

Paris stands up abruptly and picks up her plate. "No," she says, and stalks off.

"Wow. Wonder what she's got against Jules?" I ask.

"No idea," Charlie says. "But I'm dying to find out."

I laugh. "I think someone's jealous."

Charlie grins. "Who wouldn't be?"