Tigers on the Run

by Sean Kennedy

  That was a good question. “Because they brought some really good friends along with them?”

  Coby was about to smile when I added, “Well, I did, anyway. I mean, I don’t see any of Jasper’s friends around.”

  “Let me guess, ‘he hasn’t got any’, right?” The pot lid slammed down again, causing the gas flame to shoot dangerously high. “Well, he brought me.”

  “You live here. He didn’t exactly bring you. And you do know by saying that, you’re acknowledging you’re not a good friend?”

  Coby glared at me. “Simon, give up before you strain yourself.”

  “What I really meant was, you may be spending your Saturday night with two dickheads and three of the nicest people in the world to balance them out, but those two dickheads are here because….”

  “Because what?”

  “Just….” I deflected. “Just let me ask something I’ve meant to since this whole thing started. Why Jasper Brunswick? It’s not like you’re that bad-looking or have that terrible a personality—”

  “Thanks.”

  “So why him?”

  “You will probably never understand. You know Jasper Brunswick. And I know Jon Brown.”

  “He just said in the lounge that he hadn’t been Jon Brown for a long time.”

  “Yeah, well, Jasper is his persona. He’s developed it for his job, but even sometimes you still see Jon come through his columns.”

  “Then why is Jasper Brunswick such an—”

  I knew then to drop that train of thought.

  I tried to reconcile that idea of Jon Brown with the Jasper Brunswick I had always known. And then I remembered the one time I had seen the real Jon Brown. When his heart broke on the banks of the Yarra, trying to get Greg Heyward to admit some form of human feeling for him, and his subsequent (and cruel) rejection.

  “Maybe he should let Jon come through a bit more often.”

  “Simon, if anybody knows about putting on an act to get through life, it’s you.”

  I was tired, and I hated that he had a point.

  “I’m sorry,” Coby said. “But that’s why I’m spending my night with two dickheads. Because I know they’re not really dickheads. I love them both.”

  I fidgeted with my shirt cuff. “Oh.”

  “Is that it?”

  “Well, I, you know.”

  “What?”

  I sighed, still finding it hard to say crap like this. It was now easy for me to say it to Dec, and had gotten easier with family and Roger and Fran, but everybody else it was still so hard to be entirely open to. But I said it. “I love you too, Coby.”

  A smirk was now spreading across his face. “You love me, Simon? You really, really love me?”

  “Oh, now you get the Sally Field references.” Coby’s pop culture references and my own seemed to be more than one generation apart.

  “You’re rubbing off on me in all the wrong ways.”

  “I—”

  I didn’t get to say anything else because he was hugging me again, and I was winded as my lips were slammed shut against his sharp collarbone.

  “I love you too, Simon.”

  I managed to free my lips from his slightly sweaty skin. “You’re really full-on when you’re pissed.”

  “Stop talking and keep hugging.”

  At least he had stopped yelling at me.

  “By the way,” he said. “You said three of the nicest people in the world. That’s Roger, Fran and Dec, right? Why am I not included? Why not four?”

  “I meant four,” I said quickly. “You know math isn’t my strong point.”

  “I’ll choose to believe that.”

  “Good. Um, Coby?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can we stop hugging now?”

  He pulled away and glared at me. “You have issues.”

  “And you’re still no Nyssa.”

  He chucked a tea towel at me. “Get out of my fucking kitchen.”

  I MADE my way back to the others with a new bottle of wine and a lecture about an inability to be intimate with my friends. Dec looked concerned, but he couldn’t know just yet that I was returning with a (sort of) new attitude. I stopped at Jasper’s side and couldn’t help but be a little glad he flinched.

  “Wine, Jasper?”

  He pursed his lips suspiciously, both at the kind offer and the use of his preferred name, and I couldn’t blame him.

  “No poison, I promise. Just Coby’s five-dollar best.”

  We all heard the cry of “I’m not that cheap!” from the kitchen.

  “Well, I’m sure Jasper could fill us in on that,” I said loud enough for Coby to hear.

  This time the laughter at the table was genuine, and even Jasper couldn’t stop a little series of barks erupting from him.

  Coby made it back just as I had finished serving everybody else and was in the process of refilling his glass.

  “A toast!” I declared grandly, before anybody else could get in. “To Coby and Jo—Jasper.”

  Nobody else stumbled over the name as they raised their glasses, and although it was nice to see Coby smiling at me in gratitude the fact that he and Jasper started to pash was enough to put me off the rest of my meal.

  At least until dessert.

  “WONDERS NEVER cease,” Dec mumbled that night just as I was about to drift off to sleep.

  “Huh?” was my sparkly repartee.

  “You. Sucking it up and acting mature for the good of your friend.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I love you, you shit.”

  “Oh, that, I get.”

  His laughter was a pleasant rumble, passing from his skin into mine. I shifted closer to the comfortable and familiar warmth of his body.

  “And to think that it was me who unwittingly pushed them back into each other’s paths,” I sighed, remembering how we had been told the story of their reacquaintance. There had been a festival party I didn’t want to attend, so had sent Coby along as my proxy. Jasper had been there, and although Coby tried at first to ignore him, the rest was history. If I had gone that night, all might have been well today.

  “You couldn’t know what would happen,” Dec said. “It did sound like a really bad party.”

  “And just think, I’ll get the blame forever. Whenever something happens, they’ll just say to me ‘but it’s all your fault Simon, we wouldn’t be together if it wasn’t for you’.”

  “Matchmaker for Jasper Brunswick. Don’t put that on your resume.”

  “It’s okay if I still hate the guy, right? I can’t guarantee that things will always run so smoothly around him.”

  “You thought tonight was smooth?” Dec laughed again, his fingers brushing against my lips. “Okay, it wasn’t a bloodbath. But it was still bloody awkward.”

  “Amen, Brother Declan.”

  “Anyway, keep your suspicions up. I still don’t trust Jasper, and I don’t want you to change that much.”

  “Never,” I promised, and claimed another kiss before sleep.

  Chapter 9

  THE TRIALS of Jasper Brunswick had distracted me for a while, which meant the trials of Micah Johnson had been put to the side. I knew that would start brewing again, especially when Dec was throwing himself into preparing a fun run to raise money for GetOut. He was holding a picnic at Princes Oval for the major sponsors and everybody had been roped in to help.

  I was also going to be handling a camera in order to get footage for Dec’s documentary, so all the kids had been approached as to whether they would be comfortable appearing on camera or not. They had all agreed, but I was wary of how Micah might take it all.

  Emma Goldsworthy was petite, but a demon on the field. When there was a field hockey stick in her hand, you wanted to be as far away as possible from her. There was already talk that she was going to definitely be headhunted for the national women’s team, the Hockeyroos, once she got a little more experience under her belt.

  “Have you t
ried this dip?” she asked me as I met her at one of the tables laden with food. “It’s to die for!”

  “I made it,” I said.

  “No! Really?”

  “He means he opened the packet and dumped it in a bowl,” Dec said, swanning past with a carton of soft drinks.

  “Spoilsport!” I yelled after him.

  “Still, good choice,” Emma said, going back for another cracker overladen with the stuff.

  “How are you finding all this?” I asked her. “Don’t worry, I’m not spying for Dec. Just wanting to get the lay of the land.”

  “He’s fantastic. I mean, if I didn’t like the ladies, I would be all over him,” Emma swooned. “But then, he would reject me anyway, because he’s gay.”

  “Okay, other than his fantastic looks, hot body, and wonderful personality—”

  “Stop talking about me!” Abe yelled, as he also swept past with an armful of bowls.

  “We’re trying to film here!” I cried. “None of this footage will be usable!” All the stuff about Dec would have to be cut out before he even saw the day’s footage—he would be mortified.

  Emma laughed. “I’m so glad he set this up. The support I’ve been given. I mean, I was hating school. I wanted to drop out. If GetOut hadn’t come along, I might have even given up hockey. But I’m really happy now.”

  I grinned, and put down the camera.

  “Did I sound totally naff?” she asked.

  “You sounded perfect,” I assured her.

  “She’s gonna be a star” came a voice I was growing to recognise too well for my liking. “So bright, she’ll blind us all.”

  Emma rolled her eyes, although if I had been so obviously mocked I would have ground his face into the chip bowl. “What did you do on camera, Micah? Show your arse? Still, that would make more sense than anything that came out of your gob.”

  “Burn, sistah!” Micah pushed past us and headed over to the jumping castle set up for kids much younger than himself.

  “He is such an arsewipe,” Emma said to me. “Oh, look, now he’s terrorizing toddlers.”

  “That could be the title of his autobiography.”

  Emma grinned. “He’s not exactly your favourite person, either?”

  “We’ve had a… run-in.”

  “Haven’t we all with Micah.” She paused, and watched him reflectively. “He hasn’t had it easy, though.”

  At my inquisitive look, Emma continued. “My cousin went to his old school. When they found out he was gay the rest of the football team turned their back on him. He wasn’t forced out, but he might as well have been. It was impossible for him to go on there. And from what I’ve heard it’s not much easier at his new school.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Another cousin goes there.” At my quizzical look, she exclaimed, “What? I have a large family!”

  “What’s going on at the new one?”

  “Is this off the record? I really don’t need him finding out I’ve been talking behind his back.”

  “Sure.”

  “Word spreads quickly, you know? And he’s starting to get shit there, too.”

  It seemed Micah couldn’t catch a break. If he were straight, he’d probably be the most popular kid in school. Instead, he was probably subjected to dropping the soap jokes, if not outright ostracising. “What about you? How did your team react?”

  Emma laughed, a hint of weary sarcasm to it. “I’m a lezzo. Boys think it’s hot, as long as I don’t look too dykey, and most girls don’t care about it that much. Yeah, there are some jerks, but I don’t think I get the shit that guys do in high school.”

  Dec came up and slung an arm around me. “Simon, don’t hog Emma. She has to mingle.”

  “He means suck up to potential sponsors,” Emma translated.

  “That too,” Dec admitted. When she left he kissed my ear. “How do you think it’s going?”

  “Really well,” I said, watching the people mingle around the various stalls and sun themselves out on the oval. “I don’t think Micah is really working on his social etiquette, though. He’s already raised Emma’s hackles.”

  “And Paul’s,” Dec said, looking at where his one soccer player in the mentor program was standing talking to Abe.

  “Oh, good, he’s going for the box set.”

  “He craves attention. He wants to be liked.”

  “He’s not very good at making people like him, though.”

  “He’s not the best.” Dec nodded.

  “And he wants to be the star of the program.”

  “Well, he’s going to have to learn to work at it.”

  “Wrong response, honey. You’re meant to say that there are no stars in your program. They’re all equal.”

  He winced. “I know. I have to watch what I say when I’m being interviewed so I don’t come out with shit like that. You know I don’t believe it, right?”

  “Of course I do. But don’t forget, I’m used to writing bullshitty press releases. This is why I’m behind the camera, and you with the good looks and brilliantly pleasant demeanour and social skills are in front of it.”

  “You’re not that good; you just implied I’m pretty, but dumb.”

  “I did not!” I protested, but Dec hugged me closer. “Speaking of mingling, you better go and do some. I don’t want to be accused of monopolizing you as well.”

  “You can monopolise me anytime.”

  “Likewise,” I said. “Now, go schmooze.”

  I wasn’t alone for long, as I was joined by Micah.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Hello.” I was slightly creeped out, wondering why he was being civil to me. I looked to see if I could call Dec back, but he had been waylaid by his brothers.

  “I was just wondering why you hadn’t interviewed me yet.”

  “You want to be interviewed?”

  “I’m part of the program, aren’t I?”

  “I just didn’t think you were particularly interested in participating in the marketing side of it all.”

  He scratched at his nose. “Declan told me that I had to get used to it, as it was part of being an AFL player.”

  “You pretty much always have to sell yourself.”

  “I’m not a hooker,” he said. “Although lots of people want to use me as one.”

  “They can think of you as a product, sometimes.” However, I got the feeling it was more than a double entendre.

  “Well, I’m going to be the best product they’ve got.”

  He had the ego for it, at least. “Humility can help sell you as well, you know.”

  “What?” Micah didn’t seem to have ever heard of that particular trait.

  “Just what I figured.”

  “Nah, just joshing. Humility is what losers use to try and convince themselves that they’re better people than the winners.”

  “Are you sure you want to become an athlete? With an attitude like that you might be better suited for politics.”

  “Nah, people don’t love politicians. People love footy players.”

  That was a very telling remark. “So, you want love more than power?”

  Micah looked put out. “You don’t have to be loved for your personality. As long as you’re fantastic at kicking a ball people don’t care what you’re like.”

  “Sounds pretty hollow.”

  Trying his best to sound bored, Micah said, “Are you going to film me, or what?”

  I hoisted the camera from off the ground and rested it on my shoulder. “Fire away.”

  Micah smiled into the camera; it was disturbing. I had only ever seen him with a scowl or a smirk.

  “Action,” I drawled.

  “Hi, I’m Micah Johnson,” he said brightly, looking full on into the camera. “GetOut has really changed my life. Thanks to Declan Tyler as my mentor I now have the confidence to achieve what I want in my career as a possible AFL player. Being out at school was difficult, but with this program I have been able to get sk
ills and learn coping mechanisms that I never had before. I recommend this program for any LGBTQ teen, out or not, to help them remain in the game of their choice. Homophobia has no place on the field!”

  Astounded, I didn’t know whether to keep filming.

  “Cut,” Micah commanded, and lost his smile immediately. “Was that any good?”

  “Yeah, it was pretty good, actually.”

  “Do you think anyone will really believe that bullshit?”

  I placed the camera at my feet, and tried to look imposing. It was ridiculous as, at seventeen, Micah was already taller and broader than I was. “You really think Dec hasn’t helped you?”

  “What, by telling us how to stand up against the big, bad bullies? I already knew how to do that.”

  “By changing schools?” I asked, letting slip what Emma had told me.

  Micah scowled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’ve faced my own bullies, too.”

  “Good for you.”

  “I also tried not to become one myself.”

  “Oh, I’m the bully now, am I?”

  “You’re on your way there. At the moment you just have a chip on your shoulder the size of Uluru.”

  “It just so happens I need it.”

  Maybe that was the truest thing he’d said in a while.

  “You know, at some point you’re going to have to start believing what you say,” I told him. “You’re not going to be able to achieve anything if you don’t put some heart into it.”

  “Okay, Oprah,” Micah said, giving me the thumbs up. “Thanks for the advice.”

  His dismissive gesture rolled off my back. “Okay, you’re welcome.”

  Dec, noticing I was free, sidled up to me with a mouthful of dip. “How did that go?”

  “Got the perfect sound bite,” I said.

  “That doesn’t sound as good as I think it should.”

  “He didn’t believe a word of what he was saying.”

  Dec sighed. “That kid is a lot of work.”

  “He’s also a piece of it,” I said.

  AT LEAST the rest of the day went swimmingly. After a while I put the camera away and was able to socialise with friends and family—both the Murrays and the Tylers were in attendance. Our brothers had become quite friendly with each other, especially Tim and Derek. Tim was currently showing Derek his prowess with the football; let’s just say Dec would never have had to worry about either of them when he was still playing.