It's a spring of a different kind; when I recall, September '71.
Josh and I watched Coral and Ruby at their regional netball final—a big deal for the girlfriends and their club. I remember the evening clearly. Josh's mum drove us to the venue. She would stay and take us home after the game.
Coral arrived earlier, alongside Ruby. The girls looked spruced in their uniforms when we entered the sports centre. They wore pleated navy skirts and tight white polo tops. The golden girl's mane, tamed in a ponytail, matched Ruby's style. Side by side advertised Coral's near-adult height and Ruby's petiteness. The brunette was missing a growth spurt, though no one was game enough to call her a peanut to her face.
The brunette played wing; Coral the centre. I lacked appreciation of the game and Coral's training regime until this night. Netball requires a wide range of skills. These include spring, positioning, passing, and intercepting.
The match played out tactical and fast. Netball suited Ruby and Coral—a pair of speedy decision-makers on the court. Though Ruby could take her choice sureness off the court, Coral often tangled herself. My bestie occasionally overthought decisions.
After Josh and I arrived, it became apparent Coral decided a public good luck peck with Josh was on the cards. She slipped into her boyfriend's face as he walked toward her. Josh's hands rose abruptly between him and Coral in a flurry.
He backed off, "Not here; my mum is in the stand, watching!"
"Oh," expelled Coral, and her smile dropped.
She dragged her perkiness forward, "OK, after the game. What's the matter?"
Josh shuffled and mumbled as Ruby and I joined their circle.
"My mum gave me this embarrassing sex education pamphlet. I don't want her talking to me when I get home tonight and snooping in my life."
"Easy," piped Ruby, "Keep it private. Don't let anyone; you don't want to see it; see it!"
The brunette waved to her mum, seated in the middle of the spectator stand surrounded by her lady friends. Arianna's eyes tracked her daughter. Ruby didn't bother to point out her dad, lounging higher in the stands beside a basketball coach; he wasn't looking at Ruby anyway.
"Yeah, like where?" demanded Josh, lifting his head and holding Coral's hand.
Hands were safe.
"Like there: the corridor to the change rooms," Ruby pointed as she skipped in that direction.
The venue's change room corridor was stadium-designed. It provided direct access to the courts whilst hiding the players 'toing and froing' between games from the courtside seating, a shaft of shadows and darkness.
"Do you want to?" Josh's body straightened, excited.
He squeezed Coral's hand and tugged somewhat hard.
"Yuck, that's seedy; it's like a pash lane. No."
My bestie planted her feet, decisive.
We stood courtside—the game clock several minutes from its official start. Josh nudged Coral and me. We all looked down the passageway to the players' facilities. Ruby, supple on her tippy toes, her feet arched, her shoes planted over a guy's big boots.
Her toned, elfin legs were delightfully straight. Her pert butt under shorts became visible as her netball skirt slid up. The brunette's neck elongated, and her chin jutted. A massive teenage guy in a green basketball top with moppy dark hair bent filling her face. We shouldn't have spied. We did because we caught out, Ruby.
Coral wasn't impressed by her girlfriend's choice, "I would have thought she had more taste than Jake."
"Geez, Coral, you met him at my place! It's Blake!"
"Whoops, you ditched me to dunk baskets with him."
The public address gave the five-minute start notice. Coral moved to get ready. Ruby sloshed her tongue for a few more seconds.
The girlfriends played well in a hard-fought final, one without a kiss and the other with a kiss.
The girl's team led early. They surrendered their advantage in the second quarter. After the half-time break, they trailed under tremendous opposition pressure. The game slipped away. Ruby and Coral played determined as their team clawed back. They kept closing the gap during the final quarter and, following a string of goals, hit the front with minutes to play. Their opponents rallied, and the girl's team lost by two goals.
Coral and Ruby, demonstrating good sportsmanship, received their runners-up medallions. The missed opportunity hit Coral after the presentations. She wasn't in the mood to kiss Josh when he pleaded, as they found an alcove outside the building. His mother was distracted by gossip in the stands before the senior boy's final commenced.
"Aargh, Coral, come on, you were all for it before the game!"
"No, Josh," and she stepped back from his space, "I'm not feeling it."
Coral quickly headed off through the car park, "I mustn't keep Ruby and her mum waiting."
Josh mumbled, "She wants it; she doesn't. What does she want? Does she even know?"
Coral didn't hear him.
I slapped my mate on his back and reassured him, "Coral is yours, be patient."
My bestie knew what she wished for in the short term: netball success. She desired Josh long-term. The netball pre-eminence came from endless practice. Her team won the next three age and regional trophies with Coral as the new captain. She was her club and competition's best and fairest in those years. She gained state selection and played interstate matches.
Ruby was there through it all as the player a team needed when under pressure or trailing on the scoreboard. The regular recipient of the best finals player.
As for Josh, my bestie often said, 'he's a work in progress.'
Josh headed off, pacing to his mum's car. I trailed behind. My mate scurried and took a shortcut through parked cars and those starting to move out. I stuck to the lined pathway.
In the shadowed darkness, visible because of the high car park lighting, I glimpsed Ruby. Her body pressed against the side of a massive black Ford pickup. Her chest squeezed against a hefty young buck in an orange basketball top.
I pictured Ruby as pixie tiny as her feet arched from her tippy toes. The big dude bent like a giraffe to kiss her. Longish, lank, fair hair falling over his face. A mismatch in their hair and size. I gawped as the brunette clambered up his body.
So lithe as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms behind his neck. I smirked; being a pocket rocket had advantages. Again, like the stadium corridor, I gazed too long.
Ruby intrigued me.
Not because the guy was different. Instead, her taking.
I was suddenly chuffed as I lingered because the giant was no match for the nimble brunette. He went to nip her neck and plant a trophy hickey. Ruby arched and wagged her finger at him, close to his face!
She instructed, "Not the neck butch, or you will get it where it will hurt you for ages."
'Butch' returned to her order of facial and tongue get-together.
I re-joined Josh. His fingers drummed the car's bonnet as his eyes scanned for his mum. She arrived, and we departed the venue—a quiet ride home as Josh stayed within himself.
My mind drifted to the pixie at the Ford pickup. The brunette exasperated and perplexed me. I was envious of Ruby, who seemingly controlled every aspect of her life.