by Sean Kennedy
A MARATHON across the beach and sprints up and down sand dunes had Micah actually looking forward to the interviews scheduled with the AFL recruiters that he had to endure after lunch, even though they had been what he was dreading the most.
And there were over ten of them. Sure, there could have been more as there were more football teams than that, but Micah had his whole set of ten slots filled up—unlike some of the other guys—and knew he should be thankful there was that much interest in him.
Most of the questions were the same, time and time again, and Micah grew more comfortable answering them the more he had to do it.
What was perhaps more troubling was that Dec had told him about his attitude being noticed, and it came up in each and every interview. The question caught him off guard at first, but by the third time he was asked it—even though it slightly changed wording every time—he could rattle off a somewhat decent answer.
Of course, they never made it about the “gay thing,” but Micah decided to attack it head-on.
“I know that I haven’t exactly got a sterling reputation right now, but it’s something I’m working on” was the general gist he fed them. “Declan Tyler has been mentoring me, and I think it’s safe to say that, despite some very, very tiny hiccups, he was well-known for his calm and levelheadedness on the field. He has mentioned that teamwork is an issue I have to work upon, but I know the reasons behind those issues.”
“And what are those issues?” was usually the response.
“At the moment I feel isolated from any team I’m on. I know part of it is because I feel alone in being the only out gay person on the team. But it also has a lot to do with the reactions of my team members.”
“What makes you think it will be any different if you start playing professionally?”
“It will be different because of that, precisely. At the moment I’m stuck in teenage boy high school world. There is so much shit that goes on with that. There will be a real cultural and social shock when we move beyond that. We’re expected to behave like adults once we’re on a professional team. We’re paid to behave like adults. Behaviour will change.”
Micah was proud of himself for how he approached their questions, although he did lose his cool in one instance with a certain coach who had recently had “issues” with his team and their off-field antics, especially when it came to imbibing illicit substances.
“Do you think you’ll be a benefit or a hindrance to our team?”
“Let’s face it, I couldn’t do any more damage.”
If looks could kill, Micah would never have gotten back out of his chair. And he doubted he was going to be drafted by them, either. Not that it mattered much to Micah, as they were on the other side of the country, but still, what if they were the only team seriously considering him?
He couldn’t think like that.
Leaving his final interview, Micah could only think about dinner. His stomach was ready to throw itself over a cliff if it wasn’t filled soon.
“Hey, Micah!” Kyle bounded over to him. “How did the interviews go?”
“Okay, I think. Although one team in particular may pass me over.” He told Kyle about his quippy drug comeback, and Kyle didn’t seem too amused.
“That was a bit risky, wasn’t it?”
“I behaved myself for the other nine interviews, so if you look at it statistically, I got a score of ninety percent.”
“Yeah, let’s take the glass half-full approach.”
“They seem to be more worried about how to deal with the only gay in the AFL village issue.”
“They’ve already been through that with Declan Tyler.”
“No, that was forced upon them,” Micah said. “They’re prepared for the gays now, and it’s got them more nervous.”
“So they’re putting up the ramparts and boiling the oil?”
“No, more like they’re trying to figure out how to put a spin on it and work it to their advantage.”
“So cynical,” Kyle tsked.
“Maybe. But like I said, I’m trying to work on it.”
“The natural cynicism? You told them that?”
“Yep, and I’m working on my teamwork too.”
“Well, I know an ideal way to try it.”
“Okay. Spill.”
“You have to try and get along with some guys here other than Jack Bailey. Try some of that patented Micah charm I’ve seen in action.”
“Ugh, you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”
“Get your mind out of the gutter. Like Oscar Wilde said, look up at the stars.”
“You’re quoting Oscar Wilde to me? You’re, like, an old-school gay.”
“Shut up, Micah.”
Micah grinned. If they were at the free and easy verbally abusive stage already, it could be true friendship.
It already felt like something more.
“What I am saying is that I know some of these guys. They’re not all Boyd Davies.”
“Thank fuck.”
“Yeah, well, I’d agree with you on that. So far you only have Jack.”
“And you.”
“Yeah, but I’m not one of the boys. I’m not the prisoner here. I’m one of the guards.”
“No, you’re more like an assistant to the guards.” Micah thought it was best not to let Kyle get ahead of himself.
“Fine, strip me of my power.”
Micah would rather strip him of something else, but those were bad, no-go thoughts. He needed a friend, and he wasn’t going to do his usual thing and fuck it all up. “With great power—”
“Save it, Spider-Man. God, you really are a geek, aren’t you?”
“Actually, it was his Uncle Ben who said it.”
“See! Nerd!”
“Look who’s talking. You immediately knew the reference!”
“Touché. Anyway, I have jobs to do. I can’t lay about for the rest of the day like you slackers.”
“What jobs do you have to do? It’s dinnertime.”
“Yeah, but my day hasn’t ended yet. Like I said, unlike you slackers.”
“Slackers!” Micah snorted. “Baseball players can’t get too tired out running around a diamond.”
“Yeah, but I still get a bat. I can inflict more damage than you can with your little balls.”
“Little balls?”
Kyle grinned. “Did you like that double entendre?”
“You’re insulting my masculinity.”
“Yeah, you better watch it.”
They stood there smiling at each other.
“So you think I have natural charm, then?” Micah asked, deciding to push it.
“Oh God, no. That was sarcasm. See ya!”
Micah could hear Kyle laughing as he ran off towards the oval. It was only when he reached the dining hall that Micah remembered he hadn’t told Kyle about Emma’s plan to come up tomorrow night. In fact, he hadn’t even told Jack.
But it gave him an idea.
AREN’T YOU the altruistic one! Emma texted back.
Micah’s hands flew over his phone screen. Just trying to do my bit for young love.
Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do.
You’re the best. Micah locked his phone with a grin.
“What are you so happy about?” Jack asked, setting his tray down and sitting across from him.
“Oh, you know, just life in general.”
Jack regarded him with a suspicious look. “I know I haven’t known you for very long, but that doesn’t really seem like a you thing.”
“Harsh! I’ll have you know I can be a very happy person. It’s why they call us gay.”
Jack snorted, and Micah was appreciative his bad pun got some kind of laugh.
“No, seriously, what’s up?”
“Nothing. I’m just planning on making our last night here a fun one.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Jack said.
“Oh, ye of little faith. Just you wait.”
>
But that was still a whole night away, and there was this one to get through. Up to then, Micah had been pretty happy. The dinner was a bit more palatable than the one the night before; he and Jack had barely stopped laughing while eating, and he had a pleasant conversation with Dec afterwards that hadn’t involved any lectures or deep-and-meaningfuls. It was just a good chat.
So he had entirely forgotten all about Boyd Davies until he was making his way back to the dorms when a foot snaked out before him and he crashed to the ground, coming down heavily upon his knee. He was back up immediately.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled.
Boyd smirked at him. It seemed to be his only facial expression. “You should really watch where you’re going.”
Micah’s knee was throbbing, but it was his pride that felt like a hot knife searing his skin. “Is this what you’re going for? Trying to injure your competition? You’re that fucking Disney villainesque?”
“It would be a shame if you were injured,” Boyd said. “But keep feeding that victim complex. It seems to be what you do best. Even better than your footy playing.”
“It’s not a persecution complex if it’s really happening, you fuckwit!” he yelled at Boyd’s back as he walked away.
What he wanted to do was chase after him, bring him down to the ground, and rub his pretty little face against the gravel. But all he could think of was what would happen afterwards. It would be his word against Boyd’s; Boyd would just put on the innocent act and claim it was an accident. People like Boyd always got away with shit; people like Micah always looked guilty, even when they were innocent.
So he had to be the bigger person. And if vengeance were coming, it would be on the field.
Where it could be justified.
“HEY, IT’S Mr. Popular.”
Kyle found him sitting on one of the spectator benches at the oval. But as soon as he saw Micah’s expression, he immediately lost all sense of joviality.
“What happened?”
Micah pulled up his track pant leg, exposing the two-tone bruise covering his knee and the dried blood from where it had been skinned.
“It was Boyd.”
Kyle stood up, his fists clenched by his side. “He can’t get away with this shit.”
Micah pulled him back down. “You know as well as I do what would happen if I reported him.”
Kyle was as taut as a wire. “It’s fucked, but I do. I guess there weren’t any friendly witnesses on your side?”
“There weren’t any witnesses, friendly or not. So his word against mine.”
“But to do this, so close to the draft. This is sabotage.”
“Yeah, it’s almost Tonya Harding level cray cray.”
“You can’t just let him get away with it.”
“What can I do? You know if I do anything, I’ll be the one who gets shat on.”
“Can’t you do something in retaliation that may not come back to you, or if it does, it won’t send you home in disgrace?”
“Only anything childish,” Micah said.
“Childish could work.”
“It’s too stupid. I’ll get caught.”
“Maybe someone can help you.”
“Who?”
Kyle pointed to himself.
“Really?”
“Dude, I’m on your side.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Kyle said. “Do we have to repeat ‘really’ so much? What’s the plan?”
“I need an alibi,” Micah said. “Jack can’t do this because they know he’s friendly with me. And nobody will suspect you.”
“I like this already.”
Micah sighed. “It’s so dumb.”
“Dumb is good.”
Micah didn’t agree. But it was better than nothing.
MICAH HUNG out in the games room where he knew he would be seen, even if no one interacted with him. Boyd was at the pool table making sure he was the king of the camp as he annihilated everybody who tried to play him.
He could tell Boyd wanted to play him, so he could beat him as well. Another notch that could then be added to his bedpost of supreme masculinity and superior heterosexuality, but Micah refused to give him the satisfaction. Pool was definitely not his game.
Hopefully Kyle had carried out his part of the plan. Micah had made sure Jack had stayed in the games room as well so he wouldn’t be blamed. Instead, he kept his interest by telling him Emma’s plans for the next night.
“Are you sure you want me to come?” Jack asked.
“Of course. I think you’ll have a good time, actually.”
“Hey, if it gets me away from Boyd’s snoring for a couple of hours, I’d be happy.”
Micah kept quiet about how Jack’s snoring was just as bad. “Then you should be ecstatic.”
His phone buzzed, and he stole a glance at the screen.
Done, Kyle’s text read.
Micah sighed with relief, especially as Boyd was leaving and Micah wouldn’t have to try to think of a way to distract him and keep him from getting back to the room and catching Kyle.
“You’re acting weird,” Jack noted.
“It’s a full-time job.” But Micah was keeping an eye on the door, waiting for Boyd’s return.
It didn’t take long.
Boyd bounded over to him immediately. “I know you did it, you fucking freak!”
“Did what?” Micah asked, all innocence.
“What the fuck are you doing, Boyd?” Jack demanded.
Boyd grabbed Micah by the collar and hoisted him out of his chair. Jack was instantly on his feet while all the other boys in the room looked on with unabashed voyeurism.
“All my clothes are gone!” Boyd yelled into Micah’s face.
Micah grabbed his hands and pulled them off him. “And you’re yelling at me, why?”
“I know you did it!”
“I’ve been in here all night! You’ve seen me.”
Boyd looked around the room for someone to back him up.
“He has been,” Lee, one of Boyd’s cronies, said.
“Then it was your mate!”
“Me?” Jack looked far more innocent than Micah. “Why the fuck would I bother?”
“Maybe you’re just not as popular as you think you are.” Micah couldn’t resist.
Boyd flushed with anger again but backed down. Who knew, maybe he did realise that he could have pissed off a few people in this room along the way. It wasn’t like he had a pleasant personality to begin with. Micah knew if Boyd was trying to intimidate him, he was likely doing it to other guys as well.
“Just watch it, dickhead,” Boyd warned, backing away.
“Oh yeah,” Micah said, casually sitting back down. “I’m watching it.”
Boyd disappeared, and the room returned to its normal hubbub. Micah smiled to himself and caught Jack staring at him.
“What?”
“You did it,” Jack said.
“What? You’ve been with me all night.”
Jack didn’t say anything but still looked suspicious. Thankfully he didn’t voice the most obvious scenario, but maybe he didn’t think Kyle would stoop that low on Micah’s behalf.
“Wonder what he’s going to wear for the rest of his time here?” Micah asked.
“He’ll probably have to borrow clothes off everyone else.”
“I hope people are as nice to him about that as he’s been nice to them all.”
“Maybe you didn’t do it,” Jack mused, “but you sure are loving it.”
“Who doesn’t love a little bit of schadenfreude?”
“People who are scared that one day other people may feel schadenfreude about them?”
Micah pulled his phone out again, waiting for the next text from Kyle. “If you don’t do bad, you don’t get the schadenfreude.”
But he hoped none was coming his way.
WHEN THE text came, he told Jack he was going for a run.
“You’re obsessed” was his r
eply. “And I thought you said your knee was bunged up?”
“You’ve got to push yourself if you want to win,” Micah said.
“Running would be the last thing I’d want to do. I just want a good night’s sleep.”
Kyle was waiting for him down by the river. Even though it had been a warmish day, the temperature had dropped, and Kyle’s breath hung in the air like a ghost hovering over his head.
“Am I under arrest?” he asked.
“You’re free as a bird.”
“And what about you?”
“Chief suspect, of course. But I have an unbreakable alibi.”
“It’s lucky there are so many people who don’t like him.”
“Well, he only has himself to thank for that. Last I saw him, he was handwashing the clothes he was wearing and leaving them to drip-dry for tomorrow.”
“What, he’s strutting around in his boxers in front of the fag?”
“Worse, y-fronts. Accentuating his lack of package.”
“Nice try,” Kyle grinned. “I grew up with him, remember? Many summers around the pool unfortunately make me aware he isn’t lacking in that department.”
“It’s just another thing to hate about him. So where’s the stuff?”
“I hid it behind this tree.”
Micah followed him down to the water’s edge. “There’s still a part of me that feels guilty.”
“After what he did to you?”
“Yeah, but as Dec would tell me, I should be the better person and all that. But then, sometimes you just have to say ‘fuck being the better person.’”
Kyle laughed softly as he brushed aside some dirt underneath a fallen log and pulled out a plastic bag almost ready to burst from the amount of gear stashed in it.
“But he probably didn’t want me to injure myself,” Micah continued, “he probably just wanted to scare me.”
“Then he could have found another way.”
“Weren’t you the one telling me to choose when to let things go?”
Kyle nodded, the bag of clothes still in his hand. “Okay. If you don’t want to do this, it’s cool. We’ll just leave the clothes hanging from a tree, and he can find them in the morning. It’s your choice.”
Micah knew he was being serious. But there was also a part of him that wanted to make Boyd pay. “Give us his footy boots.”
