Head of the River (25 page)

‘We did it!'

Cristian

I'd decided I wasn't speaking to Adam ever again, but when I see him looking like the saddest, sorry sight on the riverbank, I can't help it. He's tucked behind a trailer of Harley boats, his head in his hands. He looks up and grimaces. It's hot and he's sweating and crying, his face streaked with dirt. I hand him my bottle of water and he takes his hat off and pours it down the back of his neck. He's short of breath and panting.

I sit beside him on the grass, my anger dissipating.

‘You okay, Adam?' I ask.

‘Did you see our heat?'

‘Yeah. I'm sorry, I know how much you wanted to get through to the A final.'

‘Maybe the B final is what I deserve. I bailed on a mate.'

‘What happened?'

‘Dad talked me into letting you take the blame after my results came back clear. He got me into the masking drugs, just in case. If I'd known we were going to get tested I never would have left you hanging. Who the hell cares now? All that gear and I'm still a loser.'

‘You're not a loser.'

‘I can't wait until this is all over. I rowed like a hack in the heat. Every stroke was an effort. I'm done. I don't think I have it in me to row the stupid B final.'

‘Then don't.' I put my hands on his shoulder. ‘You've got to stop living your life for other people, Adam. Fuck what your dad wants. What Westie wants. What people expect of you because of your last name. Do what you want for a change.'

Adam nods, rubs his jaw tiredly and pulls his hat back on.

‘Just one more race. I've got to see this through to the end. I'm sorry, Poppa, for all of it. You're a good mate. I don't deserve a mate like you.'

‘Yeah, yeah, I know. See you for a cheeseburger later?'

‘Absolutely.'

I stop lurking in the shadows, find our school's cheer section and stand amongst the rabble. A few of the guys give me sideways looks.

‘Why aren't you out there?' asks a Year Ten boy in full face paint and a jester's hat.

‘I don't deserve to be,' I say truthfully.

‘Oi, your sister's coming down the course,' says his mate.

They start up a chant and I join in. I feel a swell of brotherly pride as I sight Leni's boat in the distance. I'm caught up in the banging of drums and whistle blowing.

Come on, Leni,
I say to myself, as if I am whispering in her ear.
You can do it, girl.

‘Leni! Leni! Leni!' shouts the crowd.

I see her go for the last push. It's so close I couldn't call it. The lead changes back and forth. But as they cross the line, Harley edges out St Ann's – the crew that's beaten them all season. I knew she had the heart to get there.

‘Yeah!' yells the Year Ten kid, slapping me on the back. ‘Your sister rocks!'

I slap him back and smile. ‘She sure does.'

After Leni's race, there's a ten-minute medal break and then the boys' first eight B and A finals. The last races of the day. I can't get down to the podium in the crowds to see Leni get her reward, so I decide to stay put and watch Adam and my crew finish off our strange season. For some schools it's no disgrace to race in the B final, but for Harley Grammar it's considered a whipping.

‘Coming down the course now we have the second last race of the day and more quality eight racing with the Schoolboy Division One B final,' says the announcer. ‘Leading at this stage by a long margin is Harley Grammar. You'll all know Harley won the Head of the River last year, so this is rather an upset. Still, they're rowing very well and look to have this sewn up.'

The cheering on the bank doesn't dim for the consolation B final. Harley's cheer master peps up his disciples as Adam and my old crew smashes through the final 250 metres. The sad thing is they finally look like a crew that deserved to row in the A final.
Too little, too late,
I think. As they cross the line, a hush falls over the part of the crowd that's closest to the boat. I strain over the tops of heads to see.

‘What's going on?' I shout to a guy next to me.

‘Someone's passed out!' he shouts back.
Who is it? Which seat?

I push my way to the front of our school's barricade and look out to the crews. In the six seat Adam's slumped over his oar handle, blade trailing limply in the water. I consider jumping the fence and swimming out to him. I have no idea what I'd do if I got past the cops and the water safety boats. I can't remember any of my first-aid training.
Is it two breaths, one compression?
I think wildly.

‘What's wrong?' I yell at a teacher near the barricade.

‘I don't know,' she says.

Adam falls back in the boat, letting go of his oar, his arms limp, head lolling on Damien's feet behind him. The cheer section is now completely silent. I run down the side of the bank towards the staging in total panic. Damien is splashing water on Adam's face and shaking his shoulders. I should be in that seat right now. Would I be doing any better job than Damo? Adam looks unconscious. Sam calls out for help to the bank, waving his arms over his head. It seems to be taking so long to get help out to him.
Come on!
I think
. Rescue him!

Seconds tick past. The crowd of over fifteen thousand is hushed and worried. Me, most of all. Unaware there's been a collapse, the main race keeps coming down the course. Officials on the bank and the course boats try to stop it and fail. The coxens, rowers and bike packs are completely in their own world. A rescue boat speeds out to Adam, the eights reach the final bridge. Who wins seems pointless now. Why did we spend so much time and effort on it?

‘Eights! We have a medical emergency on the finish line. Rescue! Rescue! If you can hear me please stop racing!' shouts the announcer. ‘St John's Ambulance will assess the situation immediately and we have paramedics on their way to the course. Please stay calm in the spectator areas. We will update you as soon as we know more.'

The A final comes across the line. The big race. The race that matters. The Head of the River. The crews look around, puzzled by the silent crowd. This is supposed to be their moment of glory. It's been snatched away from them.

‘Who won?' a boy says behind me.

‘Who cares?' his friend answers, before I have the chance.

The rescue boat speeds Adam back to a landing area on dry land. St John's Ambulance workers lift him out of the boat but his body is still limp. They start doing chest compressions right away. Mitch is by his side, his brother, too. They look devastated.

I try to get closer, to see if Adam's eyes are open, but the crowds are huge.

‘Can you move?' I say, pushing at a group of guys who are rubbernecking in front of me. ‘That's my best friend! I have to get to him!'

‘Mate, he wouldn't know if you're there or not,' says one and it takes all my self-restraint not to deck him.

By the time I get close enough to see Adam, the ambulance has arrived and paramedics have taken over CPR. I hear his rib crack and flinch. They get out a defibrillator and attach the pads to his bare chest, delivering a shock of electricity that doesn't seem to do anything.

‘Still no pulse. Let's get him out of here,' says one.

Before I can tell Adam to hang on, the ambulance doors have closed and he's left the area, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

After Adam's collapse, nobody is in the mood for celebrating. We file soberly out of the regatta and try to find our car in the chaos. I check my phone obsessively, hoping for a text from Adam. Something that tells me he is fine – just dehydrated or heat affected. There's no word.

‘That time the Harley crew got would've won them the A final,' a St David's rower says to his mate in front of us.

‘Someone should tell Adam Langley that,' says the mate.

‘If he's still alive,' says the rower.

A ripple of uncertainty crosses my mind. Leni must feel it, too.

‘He's fine, Cristian. Don't listen to them,' she says. ‘Let's just go home and wait to hear something other than gossip.'

Leni

After the regatta I don't feel well. My throat hurts and I'm dragging myself around the house trying to get ready for the official Head of the River dinner.

‘Are you sure you're up to this? You look pale,' says Mum, putting a palm to my forehead. ‘You're hot.'

‘I'll take a couple of Panadol. I think I overdid it in the race,' I say, backing away from her before she sees my puffy glands and the bags under my eyes. Make-up has only gone so far.

‘You could skip it, you know. Have an early night? It's been a big day. You must be worried about Adam, too.'

I look at the couch where Cris is lying, his feet up, playing with his phone, Banjo curled over his size twelve feet. I wish I could pull on my ugg boots and join him. Order some pizza for dinner. But duty calls. Dad and I are expected to be there tonight. We are both in the winners' circle. It's our moment.

‘I have to be there. I'm the captain. I'm giving a speech.'

‘Okay, well let Dad know if it's too much. He'll bring you straight home to bed.'

I'm sitting with my crew at the front of the room. We all look different. Gone are the sweaty zooties and crusty caps, replaced by skirts, dresses and blow-dried hair. The Head of the River cup is placed in the middle of the table and every now and again someone will come by and want to touch it. I can't take my eyes off it. I can't believe it's really mine. Ours.

I pick up the fancy place setting outlining the night ahead.

Harley Grammar School

Boat Club Dinner – Proceedings

7 pm – Doors open

7.30 pm – Guests seated

Captains of Boats speech – Elena Popescu and Samuel Camero

8 pm – Main course served

8.30 pm – Presentation of year books

9.30 pm – HGS boat song

Close

Laura stops by our table and puts her hand on my shoulder. ‘Ready?' she asks. I nod and take out my carefully written speech, feeling the first shot of nerves since our race. The painkillers have done their job and I don't feel too bad. Sam and I walk together to the front of the room and he's introduced first. He takes the microphone and the room erupts in wolf-whistles and cheers and then falls silent.

‘I want to thank every rower for giving it their all on the Barwon River today. The racing was fast and fierce and every one of our crews put in a good showing. None more so than the girls' first eight who we can now call Heads of the River. Well done to Leni and her amazing crew.'

The entire room stands up and stomps their feet, including Dad. It's a zoo. I smile, so happy and relieved.

‘Our boys had a tougher day out there,' says Sam, a note of sadness in his voice. ‘In rowing, you don't always get to go fast at the right time. We tried our best, but couldn't produce what we needed when it counted. That doesn't take away from the hard work my guys put in.

I want to thank each of them for their dedication, but most of all Adam Langley, our six seat, who collapsed on the course today and is currently in hospital recovering. You're a legend, mate, and we hope you get better soon. I'd like to thank our coach, Mr West, and express our gratitude for the chance to be part of the great tradition of rowing at our school. We will go our separate ways, but the club will continue and we wish it the best of luck and fast racing in the future. Finally, to the Year Nines, Tens and Elevens here tonight – good luck for next year and keep the flag flying high. We'll be the ones cheering you on the bank.'

I take the microphone from Sam. Down the back Dad whistles and starts up a chant.

‘Leni! Leni! Leni!'

I was going to give a formal speech, but I fold up my bits of paper and decide to do something different. Something really not me.

‘I couldn't have won the Head of the River on my own today,' I say. ‘So I don't want to give this speech on my own. I'd like to ask the winning girls' eight to join me up here, as well as our coach Laura.'

Everyone claps as my crew steps up from the table and crowds around me. It feels right to have them by my side. This is not just my victory.

‘This is how we won today,' I say. ‘We stuck together through everything and found a way to work as one.'

I hand the microphone to Penny next to me. ‘You first.'

When we all finally finish talking and thanking everyone Rachel puts her arm around me and squeezes. ‘You're a bloody legend, Leni.'

Stuffed with pumpkin soup, some fancy meat dish called chateaubriand and chocolate baskets with berries, I look over the year book given to me and the rest of my crew. I've seen it before. Every page has my fingerprints on it. As part of my captain duties, I organised for the books to be put together and printed weeks ago and given out as a keepsake tonight. The hardbound leather book is full of club rowing photos, quotes, regatta results and official crew photos. Along with the school crest, the names of my crew are stamped in gold lettering on the cover.

Harley Grammar School

Girls 1st VIII

Bow: M. Aitkin

2. A.
Bishara

3. G. Johnstone

4. J. Sweeny

5. S. Hao

6. P. Mission

7. R. Wilson

Stroke: L. Popescu

Cox: A. Tanaka

Coach: L. Muston

I run my hand over the raised lettering and the names of the girls.
My girls.
I flip through the photos of the entire boat club. All of us training, rowing, winning, losing. It's been an incredible season. I'll never forget how much these past six months have made me grow up and become a leader.