by Sean Kennedy
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Obstruction Definition
Prologue
From The ReachOut, March 16, 2016
Texts sent to Emma Goldsworthy
Part One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Part Two
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part Three
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
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Copyright
The Obstruction of Emma Goldsworthy
By Sean Kennedy
Get Out: Book Three
Measuring up to her friend Micah Johnson’s success is an uphill battle for Emma Goldsworthy, but it’s one she’s determined to win. She works hard to stay on task and excel in her hockey program at the Australian Institute of Sport, but her mettle is tested when her ex-girlfriend returns from studying abroad… with a new American girlfriend by her side. Apparently she’s come out of the closet, something she wasn’t willing to do for Emma. Still, Emma has moved on from her ex—despite what those around her want to believe. Besides, there’s someone else on Emma’s mind—a girl she met once in passing and can’t stop pining for… even though Emma doesn’t know her real name, or even what she looks like beneath her costume.
For Fran, for the stealing of a name and for a beautiful friendship.
Obstruction:
An offence whereby a player prevents an opponent who is attempting to play the ball by backing into an opponent, physically interfering with the stick or body of an opponent, or shielding the ball from a legitimate tackle with their stick or any part of their body.
The Official Website of Hockey Australia
Prologue
March 2016
EMMA GOLDSWORTHY was being unleashed upon the silver screen tonight, although she doubted she would be winning any Logies, as she was playing herself. Not that much of a stretch. The years-in-the-making documentary about the GetOut foundation, Declan Tyler’s charity to help LGBTQ kids in sport, was finally being released with a premiere screening.
Declan Tyler was Australia’s most famous gay AFL player. Emma Goldsworthy’s egotistical best friend Micah Johnson would say “second most famous.” Emma would hasten to add that Micah was not even the second most famous, as Dec’s ex-boyfriend and nemesis Greg Hayward had him beat in that regard. Tonight Dec was going all out, no expenses spared, on this very special night. And why not? His partner, Simon Murray, had gone from film festival organizer, to community television producer, to new film director.
And Emma Goldsworthy was one of his stars.
One of its lesser stars, to be truthful, because of course she knew she would be overshadowed by the aforementioned Micah Johnson—who had a habit of getting himself in the spotlight and refusing to let it go. Emma wondered if such thoughts made you bitter, but if she was, it was only because sometimes it was hard not to be. She and Micah had the strangest of friendships, especially as they were never supposed to be friends in the first place. Micah had no allies during the filming of the documentary, other than Declan Tyler, AFL Legend and everybody’s honorary godfather. Even the director of the film hadn’t been Micah’s biggest fan.
Truth be told, Micah had been going through a lot of shit while filming took place—although not as bad as it would turn out for Will Deanes, but that was another story altogether—and everybody was taken along for the ride. In some cases literally, as Dec and Simon and their friends would have to go to Lorne to rescue the teenaged runaway and social miscreant Micah Johnson once was.
So Emma had always felt like she was pushed to the side because of a boy—it felt like it was the story of her life. Granted, Micah had been going off the rails in spectacular fashion, which meant he ate up the majority of Dec’s time. Emma may have resented the both of them for it. She had problems too. But they were always seen as nothing compared to the almighty Micah Johnson’s.
“You just have it more together,” Declan told her one day, confirming her worst fear.
Dec honestly believed it. But it was Simon who saw through that. He wasn’t enthused about Micah either. Emma had even heard him and Dec arguing about Micah once, when they thought they were alone, but she was still packing up equipment in the cage after a GetOut training session. She had frozen, listening to their raised voices.
“I know the kid has problems,” Simon said. “But they’re of his own making. He’s just making your life a misery.”
“My life isn’t a misery.”
“I know. Because you’re blessed to have me.”
“Well, that wasn’t what I was thinking.”
The banter seemed to lessen the tension, but it was still there. Micah had that effect on everybody.
But that was a long time ago. Two years, to be exact; a lot of things had changed since then.
Emma watched through open fingers as the documentary started to play after introductory speeches by both Simon and Dec. She was shocked when she first appeared on screen. I look like a baby. Seventeen, face free of makeup, hair tied back as she chased after a hockey ball, her stick raised to boot it away from an opponent. She looked fierce. Yes, fierce fierce. In fact, she looked like she was about to yell “No prisoners! Noooooooo priiiiiisoners!”
But to Emma it seemed like it was filmed a decade ago. She felt far removed from the Emma portrayed on the screen. It was as if her life had been turned into some crappy telemovie biopic, and some wannabe Hollywood starlet—stuck for now on Home and Away—was playing her.
Her train of thought was interrupted by Simon leaning over her from behind and whispering into her ear. “You look fantastic.”
She thought he must have been watching something very different. But she was heartened by his praise regardless.
“What about me?” Micah asked from beside her.
“The song of your life,” Simon hissed good-naturedly. Micah laughed.
Emma thought Micah had changed as well. Even a year ago he probably would have seen the joke as a slur against him and reacted badly. But he’d calmed down lately. In fact, he seemed like he had gone through something, and Emma couldn’t even begin to guess at what it could be. He usually told her everything—maybe because she was the only one their age who would still listen to him, besides her cousin Carl, and at the beginning that had been only because she made him. Micah had burned a lot of bridges. As Simon would say, people had salted the ground afterwards out of fear he would return. But those bridges were slowly being built again.
WILL SAT on her right with his hands folded neatly in his lap. He had decided to take his wheelchair because he didn’t think he had the strength to stand for hours while having to do the rounds at the party afterwards. He could now walk again, but with great difficulty. He had been told it was going to take a long time for him to recover, and even then, he might have to rely upon a cane. But after almost losing him in a bus crash after one of his football games, nobody was complaining—especially Will himself. The accident had ended his potential football career, and while in recovery he was still trying to figure out what to do next. He had moved in with his uncle because his father chucked him out for being gay. Even though he had told her earlier that he was fine about th
e documentary and his role in it, Emma dreaded the moment he would first show up on screen, running around, kicking a ball, reminding him of what could have been—not that he could ever forget.
Emma thought it would be especially hard for him to watch Micah as well. Micah had exactly everything Will had dreamt of for himself—a successful football career in a professional league.
The documentary was probably not the feel-good film of the year, but Simon infused it with hope, which for anybody who knew of his cynical and sarcastic ways, may have been a surprise. But those who knew him well, saw Simon’s passion and heart reflected in the way he told all the GetOut kids’ stories.
“It has to show the reality,” he said in his speech before the screening. “Or else why bother making it?”
But Emma felt she was much more different from the Emma in the doco. That Emma was larger than life and definitely not who she was now. That Emma was confident and thought she could do anything, or at least beat it with her hockey stick until it surrendered into subservience. She wasn’t that Emma anymore and hadn’t been for a while. She was just good at acting like she was—maybe they could ditch the Home and Away actress and get Emma to play herself.
She had been asked to give a quick speech after the screening, and she did so as quickly as possible, so her stage time was practically nil. She thought everybody would rather hear from Micah anyway. He was the star—the feel-good story of GetOut as he had achieved the dream. Emma may have been studying at the Australian Institute of Sport (or the AIS, for short) and very occasionally getting to train with the national women’s hockey team, the Matildas, but no one in the mainstream media or public at large really gave a shit about women’s sports. Men’s teams got money thrown at them; women’s teams held bake sales or had to strip down for semiracy calendars to go to competitions.
Even the great Declan Tyler had posed for a “sexy” calendar a long time ago—Simon apparently still had the evidence—but that was for charity. Men’s football teams could afford to give away the proceeds.
But that wasn’t how Emma was going to operate. Or at least she hoped her future team would never try to persuade her to do it.
Back in her seat, Emma watched Micah begin to talk. He was much more at ease with it than he had been before. He was getting used to the spotlight after having successfully navigated his first year in a professional AFL team, but it was confidence much more than any inherited arrogance from his newfound fame. Which surprised Emma more than anyone. Maybe he was growing up.
She felt like she had been growing up. But now she was stagnating while Micah was eclipsing her, when she had always kind of relied upon him being the fuckup.
That sounded harsher than how she really felt. She didn’t want Micah to start fucking up again to make herself feel better.
She just wished she was sharing his trajectory.
But then she caught sight of Will again. There’s always someone worse off than you, and she didn’t need that guilt on her conscience either.
After the speeches ended and Emma had mingled enough to leave an impression on everybody present, she made her way out through a side door to catch some air.
She wasn’t the only one with the same idea.
Ducking behind a shrub so Micah and Will wouldn’t see her, Emma didn’t even know why she was hiding—it was just something about the boys’ closeness to each other that seemed to demand privacy. Micah was sitting upon a garden bed wall, leaning into Will’s wheelchair, his arm resting on the top of the wheel and their hands close together.
“You can talk to me,” she heard Micah say. His tone was earnest and heartfelt, one she had only heard a few times from him. In many ways he was a typical man-child—all feelings covered with terse humour. This emotional side was one Emma loved, but of course she could never tell him that because he would probably never let down his defences.
“There’s nothing to talk about, really,” Will said.
“Bullshit.”
“I’m sorry for being such a wimp.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Oh, there was the Micah everybody knew and loved. “You’re not a wimp.”
“It was just… seeing myself up there, you know? I forgot that’s what I looked like. How much I took it for granted.”
“And how much you would love to do it again if you could?”
“Yeah,” Will said with a heavy sigh.
“Okay, so you’ll never play professionally. But what about a local team?”
“I can’t do much of anything right now, Micah.” Will gave the arm of his chair a heavy thump to emphasise the point.
“Yeah, sure. But it won’t always be that way. There’s a gay team you could join. They just play for fun on the weekends. It’s more of a social thing, but you could play that sometime in the future.”
“But I wouldn’t be a great player. Not anymore.”
“Maybe not the player you once were, but probably a shitload better than those amateurs.”
Emma smiled at Micah’s obvious attempt to get a laugh out of Will. It was accomplished, but there was a sob in there as well that made her stomach churn. She popped her head back up to see Micah handing Will something.
“Sorry. It’s not a hankie. Lucky I had a serviette still.”
“Yeah, I could tell from the tomato sauce on it.” But a proper laugh issued from Will this time.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t have to keep saying that.”
“But I mean it.”
“Thanks.”
“Emma,” Micah called out. “You can come out from behind the bush.”
Oh crap! She winced at being rumbled, but gamely got to her feet and made her presence known. “How did you know?”
“I saw your shadow.”
Emma looked behind herself to see a series of small spotlights throwing her shadow in large relief upon an adjacent wall. “Oh.”
“‘Oh’ is right.”
Will chuckled, but his eyes were bright. “How long were you there?”
“From the serviette bit,” she lied. “I was just waiting to see if you would kiss.”
This brought a series of explosions and denials from the two boys, which only piqued her interest more. It had been a rather obvious and tired joke.
“He has a boyfriend!” Will cried at the same time Micah said, “I have a boyfriend!” which only served to make them look guiltier.
“I know, I know,” she said quickly, more to defuse the strange moment than anything else. “I was joking.”
“Well, it wasn’t funny,” Will said, refusing to meet her eyes. Micah didn’t have that problem. Emma could almost believe lasers were ready to fire out of them and reduce her to ash under their feet.
“I apologise,” she repeated. “Seriously. Mea culpa.”
“I’m going inside,” Will said and immediately wheeled himself away.
“Will!” Micah called out after him. He turned back to Emma as Will disappeared into the building. “Good one.”
“I didn’t think it would cause such a controversy,” she replied, even though guilt was now eating her. “Is there anything going on between you two?”
Micah’s look was even more withering than before. “It is possible for two men to be friends without wanting to fuck one another.”
“Okay, firstly, you’re still too much of a boy to call yourself a man,” Emma said, even though it was without rancour, “and secondly, there was a weird vibe.”
“A vibe?”
“Yeah, a vibe.”
“The only vibe was coming from your brain misfiring.”
“Okay.” Emma decided this probably wasn’t the best to time to do the obvious Shakespearean “methinks the lady doth protest too much.” The boys were on opposite sides of the country, anyway. Not exactly conducive to a long-term relationship; both Micah and Emma knew that from painful experience. So it would be especially bad for two randy twenty-year-old men.
The two friends stood uncomfortably, neither
of them saying anything.
The door Will had moved through flew open again, and Simon stuck his head out. “Oi, you two! Stop snogging and get in here and schmooze!”
Micah began to walk away, and Emma yelled after him, “What? So it’s funny when he does it?”
His response was his middle finger held behind his back.
“Charming, Micah. Charming.”
Thankfully the next day all was forgiven. They had one last breakfast together before Emma would head back to Canberra and Micah to Perth. Deep down Emma thought she and Micah were probably jealous of Will for getting to stay in their beloved hometown, while Will was probably wishing he had the freedom to head elsewhere. Not that Emma believed he was doomed to a life in Melbourne because he was injured—just that at the moment, he was reliant upon his uncle.
Micah was rudely texting beneath the table, as if his friends couldn’t see him. “Phone off,” Emma commanded.
“Or at least on silent,” Will agreed.
“Hang on a moment,” Micah said, not even looking at them.
“I guess this is what fame and fortune does to you,” Emma said to Will.
“Fame, yes, fortune, no,” Will replied.
“You’re both highly amusing.” Micah’s fingers flew over the screen, and finally satisfied, he made a big show of flicking the Mute button and laying his mobile facedown upon the table.
“That’s better,” Will said.
“Business or pleasure?” Emma asked Micah.
He grinned slyly, and the others hooted.
“They’re apparently going steady,” Will said with a faint tone of mockery.
“Poor guy.”
“Thanks,” Micah said. “A few months ago I would have agreed with you.”
“But now you don’t?”
“No, I’ve matured.”
Their hoots turned into outright laughter.
“Oh, fuck you!” Micah said, but a twist of the lip betrayed his amusement.
“I can’t wait to meet sweet little Pikachu,” Emma said.
