by Sean Kennedy
Kyle handed them over. Micah studied them.
“They’re probably worth a fortune, huh?” Kyle asked.
“Yep.”
“Are they equal to a sabotage attempt?”
Micah shrugged. “Not really. But they’ll have to do.” He threw both boots into the river. They immediately sank below the surface. Even if they washed up on shore, they would be beyond repair.
“Shame he was actually wearing some shoes when I got his stuff,” Kyle said.
“Yeah, but they were trainers. Not footy boots. And we’re pretty attached to our footy boots. They cost a fortune, too.”
“Feeling some regret?”
Micah nodded. “It’s all… pretty anticlimactic. Let’s just leave the rest of the stuff here. His boots were enough. More than enough.”
He felt miserable. All the fun had been leeched out of that simple act of sending the boots to a watery grave. Was he growing up, or worse, maturing? Or was it what Jack had said earlier about schadenfreude? He knew there was probably a lot stored up for him, waiting to be unleashed. Maybe he was tempting fate.
Kyle’s hand rested upon his shoulder. “Hey, don’t look so sad. I’m sorry I encouraged you.”
“It’s okay. I should have known, that’s all.”
“Known what?”
“I’ve been acting like a fuckwit for the past six months. I’ve been trying to be better, but I keep sliding back. And I’ve done it again.”
“Sliding back occasionally is inevitable. Isn’t the main thing that you’re recognising it, and you’re still trying?”
“I don’t think so. It’s just shit that I keep doing stupid things over and over again.”
“We’re teenagers, Micah. It’s what we’re meant to do. And we’ll keep doing it for the rest of our lives. Maybe realising that is part of supposedly growing up.”
“So this is what we have to look forward to?” He stared at the surface of the water, where his head was split into hundreds of pieces by the ripples. He wished the water would still so they would join back together. And he wished Kyle would leave him alone so he could go and drown himself without the risk of somebody saving him.
Okay, he wouldn’t go that far. But he felt pretty fucking miserable.
“So are you just going to stand there and brood all night?” Kyle asked, breaking the silence.
“Why, have you got better plans?”
“I do, actually.”
And Kyle was kissing him, his mouth strong and his hand even stronger as it came around the back of Micah’s head and brought him in closer. Micah returned the kiss eagerly, his hand clenching the material of Kyle’s shirt, his knuckles grinding against the chest beneath it. Like Kyle’s breath earlier, his mind had escaped and was weightless, blissed out, enjoying the natural high—
—and Micah returned to the limits of the earth without mercy, pulling away from Kyle.
Kyle stared at him in bewilderment, the skin around his mouth flushed from action.
“What are you doing?” Micah asked.
“What do you mean? I thought you wanted this!”
“I do… I did. But I can’t. Not now.”
Kyle seemed to have gone from dazed arousal to building confusion. “I fucking don’t get you, Micah.”
Micah would have laughed at that, but he didn’t want to upset Kyle even more. He wanted to yell Join the club!
And how could he explain it? He didn’t even understand himself. He had known from the first time he’d seen Kyle that he was attracted to him, and what was worse, Kyle was a good enough guy that Micah started liking him. And that never ended well. At least, it didn’t for Micah. Ever since his in flagrante delicto with the guy in the change room, there had been a few experiences with guys who wanted him for just one thing, and one boyfriend who had quickly gotten bored with him because there were five hundred kilometres between them. He didn’t need another mistake, especially when he needed much more.
“Are you going to answer me?” Kyle asked.
“It’s just….”
“Just what?” Kyle sounded exasperated beyond belief.
“You’re the first guy our age who has been nice to me in ages. Well, besides one guy at school. And sometimes I think he’s only nice because he’s Emma’s cousin and he has to be. The only other people who have been nice have either been older and are trying to help me, or they’re just skeezoids who want to fuck me.”
“That’s rough,” Kyle agreed.
“So what I’m saying is, I need a friend more than anything.”
“I can be your friend too.”
Micah shook his head. “I don’t want to mix the two.”
Kyle stared at his feet and finally nodded. “Okay. Look, I’m just going to go to bed.”
“Don’t be mad at me.” Micah felt pathetic saying it, but he needed to.
“I’m not, seriously. Maybe I’m disappointed. But how can I be mad at you when you say stuff like that?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t want to be another guy just trying to get off with you. Oh, I’d like to get off with you—” Kyle gave a small grin. “—but that’s not all I want. Just don’t get caught with that clothing, that’s all.”
He jogged off before Micah could say anything else. He was good at doing that.
Micah stared at the water for a little while longer, wishing he was as peaceful as its surface now was. The boots were nowhere to be seen. They would probably never wash up. He started collecting the rest of Boyd’s gear and shoved it into the plastic bag in order to leave it on the doorstep of the main entrance.
Chapter 12
MICAH AWOKE in the morning to the sound of Boyd discovering his missing gear had been conveniently found by the building entrance.
“But where’s my fucking footy boots?”
Micah cracked open one eye to see Marks standing beside the window with the plastic bag that most likely held his son’s fingerprints.
“They weren’t left with this stuff.”
“I need my footy boots!”
“We have some spares,” Marks told him.
“Mine were custom-made! This could fuck up everything!”
“I don’t think so.”
“What the fuck do you know?”
Micah closed his eyes again in the wake of the deadly silence. Everybody in the room suddenly found they had other places to be or became extremely interested in collecting their stuff for the showers.
“Davies,” Marks snapped, “escort me down the hall.”
When somebody gave a low whistle, Micah knew it was safe enough to emerge from under his blanket.
Jack was staring at him.
“You rang?” Micah asked.
“You came in late last night.”
“Did I?”
“Let me guess, you were out for a jog again.”
“Something like that. What can I say? I like cardio.”
“Funny how Boyd’s gear turned up again.”
“Isn’t it, though?” Micah stretched and gave an airy yawn.
“Yeah, especially after you coming in late and surprise, his gear being found this morning.”
“It’s a pretty long night, Jack,” Micah said. “Those clothes could have come from anywhere and at any time.”
“You’ve been running around with Kyle, haven’t you?”
“So what if I have?”
Jack sighed. “You told me you had to take this camp seriously. But you’re sneaking out all the time and having little wars with Boyd and just generally… well, not taking it seriously at all.”
“I am, I swear.”
“No, the only time you take it seriously is when you’re on the field. And we’ve had them tell us that it isn’t all about the game, it’s about the time you’re off the field as well.”
“What, so you’re not going to come out tonight?”
He had Jack in a corner, and he knew it.
“Okay, I’m a hypocrite,” Jack said eventua
lly.
“No, you’re not. You’re being a friend. And you’re right, I could knuckle down a little bit more. And after tonight, I will.”
“Tonight’s our last night, Micah.”
“Oh,” Micah said. “Yeah. I forgot.”
Jack got up off the bed so Micah could get out of it. “At least there’s the final camp in Canberra. Maybe you can get it together for that one.”
Micah hoped so too.
“Do you think you’re going to get a captaincy today?” Jack asked.
“I hope so. It would be a sure-fire way to get noticed.”
Today they would be splitting into teams and playing scratch matches in order to prove how they could play in a group. Before, all their individual skills had been assessed—now they had to show they could do teamwork. The recruiters would be out in full force, taking notes on their iPads that would make or break all of the boys’ dreams of the future.
“I know I won’t get it,” Jack said. “But I hope so anyway.”
“What makes you think you won’t?” Micah was genuinely curious. He didn’t see how Jack had any less chance of it than anybody else.
Jack looked at him as if he were being maliciously dense. “Come on, Micah. I’ve told you before. There are two hundred guys here. Not everybody is a star. I’m one of the two hundred. I’m not a star.”
“You’re here. That means you’re good.”
“But not good enough. And I know it. I’m hoping for VFL, not AFL.” Jack shrugged, but Micah knew he was in no way as nonchalant about it as he was hoping to appear.
“All I know is you can’t go out there with that attitude.”
Jack laughed. “Fuck, Micah, you’re one to talk.”
Micah couldn’t even supply a comeback to that one. It was true.
As they left the room, heading for the showers, Declan walked towards them. He crooked his finger to Micah.
“Catch up with you,” Micah mumbled to Jack.
Jack fled without a word. Farther down the hall, Micah could see Kyle enter. He twigged to being spotted and quickly left through the french doors.
So Kyle obviously wasn’t as fine as he’d made himself out to be last night.
Stupid bloody kissing. All it ever led to was trouble.
But anyway, Dec was already on his back. “You don’t happen to know anything about what happened to Boyd’s gear, do you?”
“I’m genuinely hurt, Dec.”
Dec folded his arms and looked his most intimidating. “Cut the crap, Micah.”
Micah rolled his eyes. “I have multiple witnesses that can place me in the games room all night. There’s no way I could have done the deed, even if I wanted to.” And he wasn’t even lying! Well, except for not knowing anything about what had transpired.
“And what about Jack?”
“Jack too. We didn’t do it.”
Dec frowned.
“Look, Boyd tends to make enemies. He probably pissed off some other poor bastard. I may not be the most popular kid in camp, but he’s not that far ahead of me.”
“Go get your shower and then have some breakfast,” Dec sighed. “It’s going to be a long day.”
Micah couldn’t argue with that.
“I DO so enjoy our communal showers in the morning,” Micah sang out as he joined Jack at the end of the queue, waiting for cubicles to become available. “It gives me ample opportunities to check out the talent, if you know what I mean.”
Tiredly, Jack inched away from him.
“What?” Micah asked, his attention on the dirty look Boyd was giving him. He was half naked already, standing only in his undies. It seemed to Micah that Boyd was doing it to try to get a rise out of him, so he could then accuse Micah of sexual harassment or something to get him chucked out of camp. “It was a joke.”
“It’s getting boring.”
“What, are you turning on me now?”
“If I am, it’s because you’re acting like a dick.”
And the sad thing was, Micah knew it. “You’re right.”
“You told me you promised Dec that you would try and batten down the hatches for a while. You didn’t even last the rest of the night.”
“I didn’t even last making it to my bed,” Micah agreed.
“Exactly. And what do you think Dec’s going to feel about that?”
“That I’m a self-fulfilling prophecy of disappointment.”
“That, and that you’re a dick.”
Micah watched as Boyd scratched his chest, his little finger inching through the sparse hairs to his nipple. He was doing it deliberately, wasn’t he? And it wasn’t because he gave off closeted homo vibes like Will. Boyd was just an arsehole. And Micah knew that for a fact, because arseholes recognised other arseholes.
Micah turned to face Jack head-on. “Guilty as charged. And you know what? If I can’t do this for myself, I just have to think of a way I can. I’m going to do it for Dec, and my parents, and my little brother. Because they’ve put up with all my dickishness, and they should see something come out of it.”
Jack frowned. “I’m pretty sure they’d rather you did it for yourself, and your reward to them would be becoming less of a prick.”
“Dec told me I just had to get through this. And I really think it’s the only way I can. I always fuck myself over. Dec also told me I had to become a team player. Aren’t they my team as well? If I put them ahead of myself, then I can win.”
“That’s a really screwy way of doing it.”
“But it’ll work. For me, anyway.”
“Did you have an emergency session with the shrink this morning?”
“No, why?”
“Because in some sick way you’re making sense. Either that, or you should go and have a session now.”
Micah pushed him towards a now-empty cubicle. “You smell. Have a shower.”
Now bereft of his only friend at camp, Micah slipped his earphones on and powered up his iPod, waiting for the next shower to free up.
Something had changed; he could feel it. Plan Let’s Draft Johnson—he’d think of a better name later—was now in effect.
BREAKFAST SEEMED to be a jumble of nerves for everybody as the looming inevitability of the scratch matches had them on edge. It was in no way diminished by a couple of the coaches coming out just as everybody had finished eating and sticking lists up on the wall.
“That’s the team rosters, right?” Jack asked Micah in a nervous hiss.
“Think so.”
“Good luck.”
“You too, mate.”
There was a mad rush to get to the sheets, but Micah and Jack hung back, not wanting to appear so desperate. Boyd Davies had no such problem, and he pumped his fists in the air.
“What a surprise,” Jack sighed.
“Like a foul smell from a sewerage pit,” Micah agreed.
“Lucky us. What’s the bet I’m on his team?”
“Now you’ve jinxed yourself.”
Boyd gave Micah a triumphant look as he pushed past them. Micah shrugged.
But as he read the sheets, he knew the reason for Boyd’s look.
Micah’s name was only listed as part of a team—he wasn’t a captain.
And Boyd was—Micah also happened to be on his team.
“Fuck this,” Micah hissed.
Jack’s finger ran down the sheet. “Oh. Well, I knew I wouldn’t be a captain. I did think you would be, though.”
“This is bullshit. Absolute fucking bullshit. Okay, I’m not captain. But Boyd? Especially after what he tried to do yesterday?”
“I know,” Jack said. “But seriously, what can you do?”
“Quit.”
“You don’t mean that.”
Micah shrugged. He meant the words when he said them, but now they sounded hollow.
ONCE HE was outside, he heard his name being called again. It was Dec. Micah, without hesitation, decided to keep going. Where he was going, he didn’t know. Maybe down to the lake to rescue B
oyd’s boots so he could drown them again.
Dec caught up with him. “I was calling you.” He seemed pissed.
“Don’t care.” It sounded less like words than something a dog would hack up.
Dec’s hand on his shoulder was a death grip, stopping Micah and forcing him to turn around and face him.
“Listen to me now, and listen to me good,” Dec said. “Everything you’re thinking is on your face right now. And it can’t be that way. Otherwise you’ll never become a captain.”
“I would never become captain anyway.”
“Says who?”
Micah rolled his eyes.
“Don’t give me that, Micah. Talk to me.”
“It’s the Boyd Davieses of this world who become captains. The good old boys who fit every manly stereotype, don’t have a thought of their own, and are just fucking lunkheads.”
“What, not the gay guy?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re so pissed right now you forget who you’re talking to?”
The obvious dawned on Micah.
“How many years was I captain of my team?”
Micah didn’t answer.
“Three. On and off. And two of them were after I came out. So what’s the difference between you and me?”
“I dress better?”
Dec held up his hands in frustration, then put them on his hips, staring down at Micah. When Micah didn’t say anything else, Dec started walking off.
“Hey!” Micah yelled.
“What?” Dec turned back.
“That’s it? You’re not going to say anything else?”
“I talk and talk and talk to you, Micah, but it just as well should be at you, because you never listen to me or take anything in.”
“I’m listening now.”
Dec didn’t look as if he believed him. “Really? Then I’ll ask the question again. What is the main difference between you and me? Why would I get picked to be a captain, and why would you be overlooked right now?”
“Is this the teamwork thing again?”
“Partly.”
“But you don’t think it’s the main reason?” Micah asked.
Dec shook his head.