Head of the River Read Online Free

the taste of chocolate melting on my tongue. He held my hand across the table and, even though he acted confident and sure of himself, his palm was sweaty and shaking.
    At the party we kissed in a dark corner of the garden. Then he held my hand again – this time in front of everyone and when he dropped me home he asked me to be his girlfriend. I said ‘yeah, okay’. Even though I didn’t know him at all. Because that’s what you say when a good-looking, popular guy asks you to go out. Don’t you? Especially if you’ve been plucked from the wall like a creeping vine. The imprint of your body left behind on the bricks.
    It was only later that I thought about the kiss.
    First kisses should be lingering and exciting. Ours was rushed and awkward. He smelt and tasted all wrong. He kept poking his tongue into my mouth like he’d lost something in there and was trying to find it. It was like he was a piece of Duplo and I was a piece of Lego. Right from the start, Adam didn’t feel like the right fit.
    I should break up with him, but I don’t even know how. Adam’s the only boyfriend I’ve ever had. How do I tell him he’s not the one?
    Lying on my side I look at my inspiration board – always the last thing I do before sleep. It’s a corkboard full of photos, quotes and inspiring things. It keeps me going when my body and head ache and everything feels too hard. When motivation hides from me.
    In the middle is a cut-out of the Head of the River cup, which I’ve coloured in with gold pen. I want it so badly it hurts. I like to touch the cup with my hand and imagine my bow girl going over the line first, thousands of people screaming on the banks of the Barwon River. Thinking about it gives me goose bumps. There’s a quote posted up that I think about during training: ‘Pain is just weakness, leaving the body’. To the left of that is an old newspaper story I found online and printed out.

    Pocket Rockets win Gold!
    Aussie double scullers Peter Antonie and Stephen Hawkins were 15 kilos lighter on average than every other crew when they lined up to race for Olympic gold in Barcelona in 1992. Everyone thought they were too puny to take out the race. But they led early, ahead of Austria and Holland and went on to win Australia’s first gold rowing medal in 44 years.
    Peter and Stephen shouldn’t have won, but they did. They stood up to crews that were bigger and stronger than them and took victory. Because they wanted it more.
    I smile, flick the light off and crash.
    I want it the most, too.
    Cristian
    Mum comes in after dinner and sits on the edge of my bed, shoving a pile of dirty washing off the end. She doesn’t have much time for housework and Leni and I are supposed to hold our own. Leni does a better job than I do. In housework and all things, really.
    â€˜Okay kid?’ she asks.
    Mum has a way of looking into my soul and seeing the black spots in it.
    â€˜I’m not fit enough,’ I admit, feeling ashamed. I wasted my pre-season dodging training and playing computer games. Eating. ‘We shouldn’t have lost today. It was a shambles out there.’
    â€˜It won’t be the last time you screw up,’ she says. ‘Dad and I lost plenty of races.’
    â€˜But you won plenty, too.’
    â€˜Sure. But in rowing, you’ve got to learn to take the rough water with the glassy pond. Otherwise it will break your heart. Now show me your hands.’
    I hide my blistered hands under the covers and she pulls them back out gently.
    â€˜Let me do a little nursing. I like to take care of my babies.’
    â€˜I’m 6 feet 4. I’m not your baby anymore,’ I say.
    â€˜I don’t care if you grow to be 8 feet. You’ll always be my baby boy. Now come out to my operating table.’
    Under a light at the kitchen table she holds my wrists firmly, like I’m three years old and might squirm away. A pale