Free A Royal Mess by Tyne O’Connell Page A

advanced down the piste, I was thinking with my head, moving with my body and, within seconds, slamming her with my blade. I took all five points and the game was mine.
It had been a ridiculously easy victory, but I wasn’t kidding myself that the day was mine. We hadn’t even started the direct elimination, which was where things would get ugly.
But Sarah and Sister were thrilled and tried to pick me up and carry me on their shoulders, a manoeuvre that all went horribly wrong as I became entangled in my own body wire.
‘Git off the bloody piste, yer idiots!’ Bell End yelled, and they dropped me on their banner, leaving me smeared in jam.
Over at the tea table, I bumped into Billy.
‘Bit of a bloody one, I see?’ he teased, pointing at the jam on my lame.
‘Oh yaah, killer of a match.’ I shrugged, in faux boast.
‘But you triumphed?’
‘You should see my opponent.’
‘You pulped her?’
‘And then some.’
Billy laughed, but our lovely banter was halted by Rogers-Staughten-Bowhip, who clearly hadn’t been humbled enough en piste because she sidled up and said, ‘Good game, Boojie.’ The derisive emphasis she put on the word ‘Boojie’ made me want to kick her.
‘Boojie?’ Billy repeated, looking understandably confused.
‘Don’t ask,’ I replied. ‘All you need to know is that it involves a nun, a regressing mother and my opponent here,a wannabe that isn’t.’ Then I stormed off because I could see Sarah and Sister Regina coming towards me.
Back in the changing rooms, I checked my mobile, still vainly hoping that Freddie might ultimately forgive me for chucking him two dates running. I didn’t really think he would, but I needed a sign from God at this point that all was not lost. And there it was.
Soz about being a dick. Thinking of you, missing you. Call me when you’re done rinsing them all, Freds xxx

EIGHT
She Who Would Valiant Be

It turned out that Bell End wasn’t exaggerating about the intimidation and cheap-trick tactics of tournaments. I had made it through four gruelling rounds of direct elimination, and now I was at the finals.
Yes, the finals. Now it was just down to me and Jenny Frogmorten. Freddie’s txt had given me all the confidence I needed to play my best. Also, Bell End’s pep talk had actually helped me keep my focus as my opponent’s fan club did everything they could to humiliate and undermine me. As I was being wired up they were already calling me an ‘F – g sad case.’ It was lucky Bob wasn’t here. He’d go ballistic if he heard that sort of language yelled at his daughter.
‘Jenny’s going to kill you, Kelly!’ my opponent’s boyfriend yelled while the rest of her fan club hissed.
‘Whatever!’ I yelled back as if I were bored rather than terrified.
I wasn’t fazed. All their taunts couldn’t demoralise me, because apart from getting used to the abuse, I now knew that Freds loved me. Well, he’d sent me a txt that was loving. Also, four years of being Honey’s torture toy had immunised me to ugly taunts and filthy abuse.
In each bout, I was down my end with Sarah and Sister Regina. And while they may have embarrassed me in the pools with their jam-smeared banner, now I saw no difference in their madness and that of the hordes of filthy-mouthed barbarians up the other end of the piste, cheering on my opponents and abusing me.
In fact I had become rather proud of my posse. Portia had been knocked out in semi-finals, which still meant she’d placed highly. But while she had been fencing, Sister and Sarah had valiantly run from piste to piste to support each of us through our matches. Now their attention was firmly fixed on moi, as was Bell End’s, whose presidential duties were done for the day. Portia was over at another end of the hall cheering on Billy as she should, given she was his girlfriend. But still, I missed her, because as this was the last game for the girls that day, my opponent now had practically every other person in the hall