Leopard Spots

Chapter 18

Owen glanced at the kitchen clock. “Dave’s going to be late for work.”

Charlie looked up from the textbook he had next to his bowl of cereal. He had a test coming up, and he needed to review the material. “Should someone go wake him up?”

Jarrod made a face as he put his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. “He’s going to have a monstrous headache. I’m not volunteering.”

Charlie found himself the centre of attention. He sighed. “Okay, I’ll do it.” He glared at his housemates as he stood up. “You’re a pair of wimps.”

“When it comes to dealing with Dave…yes.” Owen grimaced. “He’s our friend, Charlie, but he’s getting dangerous. You’re the only one who can get through to him.” He glanced at Jarrod before turning back to Charlie. “It’s not that we don’t want to help; it’s that he’s not letting us. He’s likely to get violent if we try.”

Charlie sighed again and nodded his agreement. “Hopefully, I won’t be long.”

He headed down the hallway to Dave’s bedroom and knocked on the door. “Dave?” He waited and then tried again. “Dave, it’s Charlie. You need to get ready for work.”

When there was no response, Charlie opened the door. The curtains were closed, and it took him a few seconds for his eyes to adapt to the dark. Dave was still in bed, lying on his stomach with his head to the side, facing away.

Charlie stepped in. “Dave, it’s time to get up.” There was no movement from the bed.

“Dave?” When Charlie was next to the bed, he reached out and gently shook Dave’s shoulder. “Dave, you need to get up.”

Charlie was about to shake Dave again when he caught sight of an open bottle of pills on the bedside table opposite him. With a sense of dread, Charlie rushed around the bed and picked up the bottle. The room was too dark to read the label properly, so Charlie yanked open the curtains to get some light.

The name of the drug was unfamiliar to him, but he saw the warning against taking them with alcohol. “Jarrod, Owen!”

Charlie stripped the bed cover off Dave and turned his housemate’s body onto his back. He leant over and put his ear to Dave’s bare chest.

“Charlie? What is it…?” Owen was the first one to arrive. “What the fuck?”

Charlie looked up. “He’s still alive, but I don’t know what’s wrong.” Jarrod appeared behind Owen. “Try to wake him up. I need to get onto my computer.”

Jarrod entered the room, his eyes darting from Dave to Charlie. “What for?”

Charlie held up the pill bottle. “To find out what the fuck this is and what happens when you mix it with alcohol. If I don’t get good news in the next couple of minutes, I’m calling an ambulance.”

Charlie rushed to his room and ripped his laptop out of his backpack. Flipping open the lid, he waited for it to come out of sleep mode. “Come on…come on…”

As soon as the password prompt appeared, he started typing. Seconds later, he had a browser open and was entering the name of the drug into the search bar.

“Sleeping pills!” Charlie swallowed and grabbed his phone. He didn’t need to look it up to know that sleeping pills and alcohol were a dangerous combination. He also didn’t exclude the possibility that Dave might’ve taken an overdose deliberately.

“Charlie!” Owen’s yell didn’t sound desperate, but Charlie rushed out anyway, phone still in hand.

He rejoined his housemates to find a very groggy Dave sitting slumped over on the side of the bed. Charlie slipped his phone into his pocket and then went down onto one knee in front of Dave.

Dave groaned and lifted his hands to his head. “Close the fucking blinds!”

Charlie grabbed Dave’s shoulders and gave them a firm shake. “How many sleeping pills did you take, Dave?”

“Leave me alone.” Dave’s protest was weak, with overlays of pain.

Charlie slapped him across the face. “How many pills did you take?”

Dave looked up, his expression one of confusion. “What?”

Charlie slapped him again. “How many fucking sleeping pills did you take?”

Dave’s head and shoulders slumped again. “I don’t remember.”

Charlie glared up at Owen. “Get the car. We’re taking him to the hospital.” Owen’s eyes went wide at Charlie’s aggressive tone.

Dave tried to stand up but collapsed backwards onto the bed, his body lying crosswise across the mattress. “I don’t need–”

Charlie grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back into a seated position. “I don’t give a fuck what you think you want or need! You’re going to the hospital.” He glared at Owen. “Move! Jarrod and I will get him ready.”

Owen nodded and quickly disappeared. Charlie glanced at Jarrod. “Find him some fucking clothes or he goes as he is.” Jarrod swallowed and jumped up to follow the orders.

Dave scowled. “Leave me alone!”

Charlie glared back. “I’ve gone out on a fucking limb for you, Dave. I’ve kept your secrets, and look at what’s happened. Sleeping pills and alcohol? They can fucking kill you! You don’t even fucking know how many pills you took! I’m not going to sit around and let you die, Dave. You’re going to the fucking hospital if I have to kick you every step of the fucking way!”

Dave appeared to be in shock. He stared at Charlie as if he were a stranger. Charlie knew he normally didn’t swear very much, but he was frightened. He didn’t know how close Dave had been to killing himself, and he didn’t want to find out. He just wanted Dave to get better.

“Er…Charlie?”

Charlie turned to find Jarrod standing behind him with tracksuit pants, a T-shirt, and a jumper. Charlie took a deep breath to try to calm himself down. “Thanks, Jarrod.” He turned back to Dave and narrowed his eyes. “Put your arms up.”

“I can dress myself.” Dave’s protest was half-hearted.

“I don’t fucking care. Put your fucking arms up!” Charlie grabbed one of Dave’s arms and lifted it up. He took the T-shirt from Jarrod, by which time Dave had raised the other arm. Charlie suspected he would cop it from Dave once he recovered from his hangover, but Charlie would worry about that when it happened. His focus was on the now, not the future.

Ten minutes later, Dave and Charlie were in the back seat of Owen’s car. Jarrod had wanted to come, too, but Charlie had told him not to. With another glare at Dave, Charlie had added that enough people’s days were ruined; they didn’t need to mess up Jarrod’s as well.

“Sorry, Charlie.” Dave’s apology was low-voiced, and Charlie doubted Owen had heard it.

Charlie pulled a face. His initial fearful anger had dissipated, and he was back to his more normal non-confrontational self. “Dave, no one wants to see you hurt. Will you now talk to the psychologist about your nightmare?”

Dave appeared to shrink. “I’ll try.”

Charlie stared at him for several seconds as he tried to work out if Dave would follow through. “Do I need to come with you?”

“No!” Dave’s gaze darted around the car. His apparent attention was on Charlie, but he wouldn’t look at him. “I’ll…I’ll do it. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that. Also, no more alcohol.”

“Please, no! I need it. It’s all that stopping…” Dave grimaced and dropped his head.

“Stopping what, Dave?” Charlie reached over and put a hand on Dave’s arm. “What is it?”

“The memories… I need to forget. I can’t…”

Charlie pinched his lips. If his and Karen’s supposition as to the underlying cause of Dave’s behaviour – being molested at some stage in his past but with the memory suppressed – was true, then this implied that something was changing. It was more important than ever that Dave talked to his psychologist about what was going on.

Charlie gritted his teeth. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be at the hospital for too long, and he would be able to get to the university that afternoon. He needed to talk to Karen.

* * *

Patrick O’Malley leant back in his swivel chair and placed his hands behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. He had just finished reviewing the poor-quality recording of the Lilydale Leopards’ narrow win against the Casey Scorpions. While better than some, the scout wasn’t a professional cameraman, and it showed.

“Christopher!”

His assistant entered the room. “Sir?”

“Lilydale Leopards. What have you got on Numbers 7, 24, and 31?”

Christopher Talbot brought out his tablet. “Let’s see…Lilydale Leopards…player list… Here we are. Number 7 is Deon Bradshaw. Position: forward. Age: eighteen. Height: six foot three. Weight is listed at a hundred and eighty pounds, but I don’t have a record of when that was taken. He wasn’t selected for last year’s draft camp, but he did the alternative-draft evaluation, so at least one club was interested in him. He wasn’t in our top-fifty draft picks. We looked at him early during the 2013 season, but we had enough forwards on our list at that time.

“Number 24 is Zachary Wilkins. Position: ruck and backup forward. Age: nineteen. Height: six foot seven. Weight: around two hundred and thirty pounds. We looked at him for the 2012 draft, but a ruckman wasn’t a priority for us at that time. He wasn’t outstanding, so we didn’t rate him.

“Number 31 is Dave Islington. Position: midfielder, usually playing wing. Age: twenty-three. Height: six foot. Weight: between one seventy and one eighty. I don’t have any other information.”

Mr. O’Malley frowned. “Is that it?”

Christopher flicked through some additional screens. “I’ve got Wilkin’s scores from the 2012 draft camp and three scout reports on Bradshaw from last year’s TAC Cup. Nothing more on Islington.”

“Send me what you’ve got. I need to review them.”

Christopher hesitated. “Did you want me to flag them for monitoring?”

“I’m still thinking about it. I’m not convinced this wasn’t just one good game.” Mr. O’Malley chuckled as he dropped his arms and leant forward. “However, I suspect something’s happening out there in Lilydale. Those three are the ones I’m currently looking at, but there are others that show potential, too. I expect that in the not too distant future, we’ll need to send someone out to have a good look at the whole team. Most won’t be up to the standard required, but if they continue to play at the level they showed on Saturday, there may be a few we’ll need to seriously consider. The Leopards remind me of Frankston in the 2012 draft, where one player was taken in the national draft, and two more in the rookie draft, or Bendigo in 2011 when it was one and three.”

“Could it be Flanders’s influence, inspiring the rest of the team?” Christopher asked.

“Possibly. We both know key players can lift an entire team at times. We’ll find out soon enough if that’s the case, because they’ll fall away again after a loss. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen potential draftees at the start of a season, only for them to drift off the radar by the end.” Mr. O’Malley narrowed his eyes. “You’ve got something else for me?”

“Sir, I’ve got an initial unconfirmed report on Flanders and his attitude change. I didn’t think it was ready to give to you yet, but since you’re asking about them…”

“Go on.”

“According to our source, Flanders was read the riot act by one of the other players. For some reason, Flanders finally listened. The two appear to have a close relationship, the nature of which is unclear.”

Mr. O’Malley frowned. “That’s a rather weird statement. What do you mean?”

Christopher didn’t meet his boss’s eyes. “The player in question was recently in the news: Jim Henderson.”

There was a pause while Mr. O’Malley recalled the name. “The homosexual?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmm… Are you implying that he and Flanders are in a sexual relationship, and that’s what’s brought about the change in attitude?”

“We don’t know. The indications are that the two are very close, but Flanders clearly stated on national TV that he’s not gay. As I said at the start, the rest is all unconfirmed.”

Patrick O’Malley returned his attention to the screen on which he had just watched the Leopards versus Scorpions game. He brought it back to the start of that match. “What’s Henderson’s number?”

Christopher checked his tablet. “Thirty-five.”

“His other details?”

“Position: midfielder, usually on the opposite wing to Islington, though he also plays centre and part-times as a defender when needed. Age: twenty-one. Height: six foot. Weight: around one sixty pounds. First nominated for the draft in 2010. We’ve got a scout report on him that says he’s quick and agile, shows potential, but no more than a number of other players.”

“Thank you, Christopher. That will be all for now.”

Patrick O’Malley started to fast-forward through the game. He had only paid minimal attention to Ty Flanders in his initial review, just enough to confirm that the boy had the potential they were looking for. It was time to take a closer look.

* * *

Charlie slid into the seat opposite Karen and next to Stacey with an audible sigh of relief. “Karen, Stacey, it’s good to see you both.” They were at their usual table at the Pearson and Murphy’s Cafe.

“You said it was urgent.” Karen leant forward. “What’s it about?”

“Dave.” Charlie turned to his girlfriend. “I’m sorry, but there are things I haven’t shared with you, Stacey.”

She smiled. “It’s okay. Karen also told me there might be things she can’t tell me. Normally, I’d be jealous that you’re sharing secrets with her and not me, but I know you wouldn’t do it without a good reason. You also haven’t tried to hide the fact that you’ve got secrets. That told me you’re not trying to go behind my back. I’d like you to trust me enough to tell me, but I understand you mightn’t be able to do so.”

“Since Owen and Jarrod know part of it, I can tell you that much.” Charlie ran a hand through his hair. “Dave almost killed himself last night.”

Both girls gasped. “What did he do?” Karen asked.

“Sleeping pills and alcohol. He was blind drunk and doesn’t know how many pills he took.” Charlie glanced at Stacey. “Dave’s been having sleeping problems; hence, the sleeping pills. He’s taken up drinking again for…related reasons.”

“What reasons?” Karen asked.

Charlie grimaced. “That…other…matter we guessed at. Well, he started remembering things during the day, and he got drunk to try to forget.”

“That might be good.” Karen didn’t sound confident. “There’s so much I don’t know, Charlie! I can’t do this. He needs professional help, not the help of an untrained beginning psychology student!”

Stacey’s gaze flicked between the two before settling on Charlie. “What’s going on?”

Charlie pulled a face. “Stacey, it’s…”

Karen jumped in. “Stacey, it’s really personal. I know Charlie wants to tell you, but he made a promise to Dave to keep things private. He broke that promise and told me, but only because he needed advice. I’ve probably told you more than I should, but please understand, Charlie’s not telling you because he shouldn’t, not because he doesn’t trust you.”

Stacey stared for a moment and then smiled and stood up. “My turn to get the drinks. I’ll be back shortly with your usuals.”

Charlie watched her disappear. He sighed. “I don’t deserve her.”

Karen reached across the table and tapped him on the shoulder. “She’s giving us a chance to talk. Let’s not waste it.”

Charlie nodded. “Something’s happened to Dave. If it’s repressed memories, he’s beginning to remember them when he’s awake. The problem is that the psychologist he’s been seeing has been concentrating on Dave’s anger problems and hasn’t asked about the dreams. Dave’s promised to talk to him about them when he sees him next, and I hope he keeps that promise. Unfortunately, his next appointment isn’t until Thursday next week. With Good Friday this week and ANZAC Day next Friday, Dave’s regular appointment had to be moved.” Charlie grimaced. “I’m not sure he should wait that long. A lot can happen in ten days.”

“How’s Dave at the moment?” Karen asked.

“They kept him at the hospital awhile for observations but eventually released him. Without authority or firm evidence of a mental-health problem, they couldn’t keep him.” Charlie cringed. “I’m not looking forward to seeing him tonight. I was…er…a little rough with him this morning. He might take it out on me at training.”

“You?” Karen asked.

Charlie grinned sheepishly. “I can get aggressive if I have reason. Dave scared me.”

Karen tilted her head to the side as she contemplated Charlie. “You’re protective.”

Charlie blinked and then smiled. “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

“Do you think Dave will try anything?”

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. He was contrite in the car to the hospital, but I think he was still in shock and definitely hung over. He might realise that I was only trying to help him, but he’s pushed away others for doing the same. I just don’t know.”

Karen’s lips were pursed. “Maybe I should come to the club tonight. See him for myself.”

“I thought you didn’t want to do this anymore,” Charlie said.

She sighed. “I don’t, but since I’ve started, I feel a sense of responsibility.”

“If you want to see him, I can’t see how it can hurt.” Charlie shrugged. “You might even spot something that I’ve been missing.”

Karen looked past him and waved a hand. Stacey came forward and handed out the drinks. “Did I miss anything I should know about?”

“I was just suggesting to Charlie that maybe I should come out to Lilydale tonight to see them train and maybe speak to Dave,” Karen said. “Not to say anything in particular, but just to see things for myself.”

“Can I come, too?” Stacey asked.

Charlie smiled. “Of course! Anytime.”

“And both of us will be there on Saturday to see you play your first official game of VFL football.” Karen grinned. “I know you played in the practise matches, and you were on the bench last Saturday, but this will be your first game in the main season when you take the field.”

Charlie winced and dropped his head. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

Stacey touched him on his arm. “What’s wrong?”

Charlie gave a sheepish chuckle as he looked up. “It’s not that I’m superstitious, but I’ve got tonight’s and Wednesday’s training sessions to get through before that match. Don’t forget: I got injured at training, not while playing.”

Karen narrowed her eyes. “Yes, you’re being superstitious. Accidents happen, but comments like mine don’t cause them. You’ll be fine.”

“I know, but…” Charlie sighed and gave the two girls a soft smile. “Can’t I be just a little cautious about getting my hopes up too high?”

Stacey wrapped herself around Charlie’s arm and glared across the table. “Leave him alone, Karen. He’s fine just the way he is.”

Karen smiled. “Yeah, he is.” She cocked her head. “I thought you guys trained on Friday nights, too?”

Charlie smiled at Stacey before replying. “Normally, yes, but we’re getting Good Friday off. Are you working, or do you have the night off, too?”

Karen sighed. “Sadly, I’m working. I need the money.”

“At least you’ll be there to see Ty play on Saturday.” Stacey grinned. “And I know you’re looking forward to that.”

Karen laughed. “Yes, I am. The only game of his I’ve seen recently was the one they showed on the ABC; I was able to watch it later that week.” She sighed, a happy smile on her face. “I can’t wait.”

* * *

Dave hesitantly entered Peter’s office. “You wanted to see me?”

“I do. Please close the door and take a seat.” Peter pushed his computer keyboard to one side and straightened up from his hunched-over position. He waited until Dave was seated before continuing. “I haven’t been given any details, but it was suggested to me that since you were at the hospital for a few hours this morning, it might be a good idea for you to skip training tonight.”

Dave scowled. “Who…?”

Peter stared back, his face expressionless. “Firstly, are you okay? What happened?”

Dave dropped his gaze to the desktop. “I fucked up. I did something stupid.”

Peter waited until it was clear that Dave wasn’t going to say anything else. “Can you tell me?”

Dave grunted and then lifted his head. “I came close to killing myself.”

Peter’s jaw dropped.

“It wasn’t deliberate!” Dave leant forward. “Believe me, I didn’t mean to do it! I just…fucked up.”

“I believe you, Dave, but I need more information. What did you do?” Peter tried to smile encouragingly, but he was still in a state of shock.

Dave looked away. “I was drunk…and then I took some sleeping pills. I don’t know how many.”

“Dave…” Peter stopped himself. He could tell that Dave didn’t need to be informed he shouldn’t have done that, so he changed what he was going to say. “How are you feeling now?”

“Like an idiot.”

“I meant health-wise.” Peter grimaced. “If you’re not up to it, you don’t have to attend training.”

Dave looked back at Peter. “Physically, I’m okay. Mentally…” He shrugged.

Peter stared for a moment and then nodded his head. “What do you want to do?”

Dave grimaced. “My mind isn’t currently on football. Training might help me focus again, so I’d like to train if I can.”

“Okay.” Peter paused and narrowed his eyes. “If you need out at any time, just tell one of the coaches and you can go. I’ll let Will and Julie know as soon as we’ve finished here.”

Dave stiffened. “You won’t tell them–”

Peter held up a hand and smiled. “No, they won’t be told why. Now, what are you doing about your problems? Ignoring them isn’t going to fix anything.”

Dave sighed and dropped his head. “I’ve promised Charlie I’ll talk to the psychologist about them.”

Peter frowned. “I thought you already were.”

“I am…but not on certain things. We’ve been discussing anger management, not…what else has been going on.”

Peter was tempted to ask, but he knew he couldn’t. If Dave was ready to tell him, he would. If he wasn’t, asking would risk Dave having a bad reaction.

* * *

Karen and Stacey were in the grandstand watching the Leopards training session.

“It looks like we didn’t need to come out here,” Karen said. Training was going smoothly, and there appeared to be no animosity between Dave and Charlie. If anything, Dave appeared very subdued.

“Speak for yourself. I’m here for Charlie.” Stacey grinned at her friend. “And don’t tell me that you’re not enjoying watching Ty work out.”

Karen chuckled. “True. I’ve seen him train before but not often. Saturday’s what I’m waiting for, though. Ty and I are going out afterwards, just the two of us. Our first Saturday night out since Jim’s birthday party.”

“And…?”

Karen gave Stacey a mock frown. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Stacey chuckled. “Yes, you do. Ellen let the cat out of the bag earlier today when you weren’t around.”

Karen’s frown became real. “I’m going to kill her one of these days.”

“No, you’re not. She’s pushy and can be over the top at times, but she’s still a loyal friend.” Stacey narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t said anything to Ty yet.”

“No, and don’t you say anything!” Karen glared and then started laughing. “I’m hopeless.”

Stacey pulled her in for a hug. “No, just in love.”

“I want things to be just right. Ty’s…special.”

Stacey smiled as she released Karen. “So’s Charlie.”

Karen grinned. “It hasn’t taken you long. When do you plan on taking the next step?”

“Not anytime soon. Charlie’s not pushing; we’re just enjoying each other’s company and getting to know each other slowly.”

“Go at your own pace. Instincts are usually right with this sort of thing. Ty’s been very patient, and I think now’s the right time.” Karen sighed as she stared out over the oval. “I hope they win on Saturday so the night can be a celebration and not a commiseration.”

“Where are you going to go?”

Karen chuckled. “Seeing Neil’s parents yesterday reminded him that he still hasn’t tried the vindaloo at that Indian place in Ringwood. You know…the one where we had a double-date a few weeks ago. Ty’s decided he wants to find out if the vindaloo’s as hot as Neil’s father made out.”

Stacey chuckled. “I remember. I hope it’s not, because I don’t want your night ruined.”

Karen shuddered. “If he ends up spending half the night on the toilet, I won’t be impressed.” She chuckled. “Though it would be something to laugh about afterwards.”

Stacey smiled and gave Karen another hug. “I really hope things work out in the long run for you two.”

“Thanks, Stacey.” Karen returned the hug and gave Stacey an extra squeeze of affection. “Same for you and Charlie.”

* * *

It was Tuesday morning, and Jim was sitting in Tony’s office along with a couple of strangers. Jim’s smile was hesitant. “I don’t suppose it’s a secret to say I’m nervous.”

Michael Stricken chuckled. “Relax. We’re not out to make you embarrassed. You’ll get to see the photos and interview before we publish them and raise any concerns. Just be yourself and don’t try to act in a way that’s not natural. We want you to be you.”

Michael was to do the interview for Men’s Health, and he had a photographer and associated crew for the pictures that would accompany the article. The photographer, Ross Stewart, was the other stranger in the room while the crew were busy elsewhere getting ready for the photo shoot.

Tony smiled at Jim before turning his attention to Ross. “We’ve got the use of the club’s gym from ten to noon. There may be one or two other players there at times, but they’ll only use equipment that won’t interfere with your team.”

Ross grinned. “That sounds perfect. Also, would it be possible to get some action photos on the oval later? We’d like some pictures of his kicking and maybe some agility moves.” After the rain at the end of the previous week, it was forecast to be a pleasant day, and Ross wanted to take advantage of that. He had been told that to try to get something suitable for the front cover, and action photos always looked better than posed pictures. The magazine was working on a series of sportsmen front covers for the year, and Jim Henderson had been pencilled in as the candidate for the May issue.

Tony frowned. “I’ll need to check with the coaches, but if they’re not using it, I don’t see why not.”

“Excellent!” Michael smiled at Jim. “What would suit you better: start with the interview or the photos of you doing a standard workout, doing the interview later or between exercises?”

Jim gave a nervous chuckle. “I think doing something physical may help me calm down. Shall we get the photos out of the way first?”

“Not a problem. We’re here to work with you.”

* * *

Julie crossed her arms as she stared at Ty. “If you’re going to make a name for yourself, brat, you need to work on two things.” Julie had resisted using Ty’s nickname for a long time, but he had insisted, and she had finally given in. “Endurance and burst speed. As you’re finding, if you’re being tagged or if you’re tagging someone, you need to keep moving. There are things you can do to open up space for short periods of time, but you need to have the endurance to keep going and the ability to bring on a burst of speed to break free. Also, the modern game is getting faster and more mobile. The old days of playing a small area are gone. You need to be able to run the length of the oval, if needed, and keep doing that all game. You’re weaker than I’d like with both endurance and acceleration, and you’ll need to work on that if you want to make it to the AFL.”

Ty scowled. “Yeah, I know.”

Julie raised an eyebrow. “You know? Then, why haven’t you done something about it?”

“Because I’ve been fucking well concentrating on the skills that Will’s been trying to teach me so I can play as a forward! There’s a limit to how many things I can do at once.”

Julie smiled. “Are you ready now?”

Ty nodded.

“Good. Before we start, you were at the AFL draft camp last year, weren’t you?” After Ty’s confirmation, Julie continued. “What was your beep-test score?”

Ty grimaced. “Thirteen point eight. You should’ve heard my old man go off at me. He told me I needed to beat Billy Hartung’s result.” Even without the blast from his father, the beep test wasn’t one of Ty’s favourites. A test of fitness and endurance, also known as a multi-stage fitness evaluation, the player had to run between markers set twenty metres apart between the sounds of two beeps. As the test progressed, the interval between beeps became shorter, with the test finishing when the player twice failed to reach the next marker in time.

Julie’s eyebrows shot up. “Isn’t Billy the guy who broke the record last year?”

“Yeah. Sixteen point six, and I was supposed to beat him.” Ty rolled his eyes. “My old man had unrealistic expectations, and it was my job to meet them.”

“Thirteen point eight is decent and nothing to be ashamed of, but I think we can get you to improve on that. We’ll start with some general endurance work. A game goes for eighty-plus minutes. A good runner can do a half-marathon in less than that. Let’s get started.”

Ty’s mouth dropped open. “Wait…what?”

Julie grinned. “We’re going to run a half-marathon – or at least try to. We’ve got a time limit of one hundred minutes. In case that’s too easy, we’ll also do some sprints during the run to work on your ability to get that burst of speed you need even when you’re tired.”

“We? Are you doing this, too?” Ty seemed to have trouble believing her.

Julie chuckled. “I used to be a personal trainer. I still run the occasional half-marathon. I’m up for it. Are you?”

Ty grinned. “Probably not, knowing you, but I’m not going to get better if I don’t try. Let’s get going.”

The two started running laps, starting slowly. After a couple of laps to warm up, Julie grinned at Ty. It didn’t look pleasant. “On my mark we sprint to the goal posts. Ready…set…go!”

Ty managed to beat her, but he suspected Julie’s general fitness levels were higher than his and that he wasn’t going win all the sprints.

* * *

Ty lay on his back, struggling to breathe. He’d managed to not throw up by the end of the run, but it had been very close.

Julie chuckled as she walked around him breathing deeply. “You did well even if you probably feel like you’re about to die. We’re going to do this every Tuesday morning until you’ve built up your stamina to the level where you can run all game and still have something left in the tank at the end.”

Ty tried to glare up at her, but his body was too busy trying to recover from their training session.

She smiled. “Up on your feet, brat. You’re not finished yet.”

Ty swallowed and forced himself vertical. He had to use the fence on the side of the oval to steady himself. He took two deep breaths. “What’s next?”

Julie nodded approvingly. “You get yourself to the shower and clean up. I’ve booked you a massage session in thirty minutes to work on those legs. You’ll need it. After that, you’re on your own, but I suspect you’ll want to check on how Jim’s doing.”

Ty blinked. “But…”

“You needed to push yourself that little bit extra. You were ready to do more, even if your body wasn’t, and that’s exactly the spirit I wanted to see. Mental toughness is what will get you through the pain barrier and to the next level of ability. I saw it when you stood up and were ready to go on, and so you’re finished.” Julie grinned. “You’ll do fine, brat. Just remember, this little bitch isn’t going to let you slacken off.”

“You’re never going to let me forget that I said that, are you?” Ty gave her a tired grin.

“Nope! You called me a bitch, so that’s what I’m going to be. It was your call…” Julie chuckled as she walked off.

Ty rested against the fence for a couple of minutes and then made his way into the change room. A nice hot shower was what he needed.

* * *

Jacqueline Johnstone smiled as her next client entered the room. “Ty! Julie told me that you’d need a leg massage after she’d finished with you.”

Ty grinned. “What I really want to do, Jackie, is to lie down and fall asleep. You can work on me while I’m out.”

“Now, none of that. Your girlfriend might get the wrong idea if she learnt that you fell asleep on me.” Jackie started to warm up some massage oil. As well as being the junior physiotherapist for the Leopards, she was also a qualified masseur. “While I’ve got you, is there anything else you’d like to discuss with me?”

“I’ve got a little tightness in my left calf at the moment. I don’t know if that’s a result of the run, though.” Ty stripped off his tracksuit pants and sat on the edge of the massage table. “Do you want me on my back or stomach?”

“I’ll start with the calf muscle, since you mentioned it, so on your stomach.” Jackie frowned as she approached. “When did it start feeling tight, and have you felt it before?”

“After the run, and sometimes earlier, but not often. It came and went several times last year. I don’t know if it’s something to be concerned about or not.”

“Leave it to me. If I need to, I’ll refer it to Mark or Andrew, but I can take a look now while I’ve got you.” She started work and quickly found a problem. “You weren’t joking about it being tight. I’m guessing you haven’t been stretching it properly, and the muscle’s tightening up as a consequence. This is going to take a bit of work.” She grinned at Ty’s back. “You can handle a bit of pain, right?”

“Do whatever you need to do.” Jackie could see Ty’s body tense in anticipation.

“Relax for now. I’ll check out the other muscles before I start work on your calf. I’ll also review your stretching technique when we’ve finished. You need to make sure you do those stretches properly, or you could find yourself sidelined just when the team needs you.”

“Thanks, Jackie.”

Jackie started checking Ty’s other leg muscles. “The rumour around the club at the moment is that someone’s interested in you.”

“Her name’s Karen, and I don’t see why there’s a rumour. We’ve been going out for over a month.”

“Not her. An AFL team.”

Ty jerked up onto his elbow so he could look at Jackie. “What?” He looked stunned.

She frowned. “Lie down. I can’t work on you if you’re like that.” She waited until he was back on his stomach. “One of the AFL scouts was spotted at the game on Saturday. Apparently he was also at training on Friday.”

“What makes you think he’s looking at me?”

Jackie chuckled. “The general consensus of the staff is that if there’s a Leopards player that the AFL teams might be interested in, it’ll be you. It might be someone else, but most people don’t think so.” She paused. “Okay, that calf’s the only serious issue to be worked on. I’ll start that now, so let me know if the pain gets too intense. I also want to see you again on Thursday, and again next Tuesday, to make sure you’re looking after it. You shouldn’t let your muscles get into a state like this.”

“Okay, Jackie.” Ty tensed as he anticipated the agony he’d be experiencing as she worked his calf muscle. “About that AFL scout…do you know for which team?”

“I don’t, but someone else may. Check with Peter; he knows most of them.” Jackie started loosening the muscle fibres. It was time to end the conversation and concentrate on keeping Ty fit to play.

* * *

Ty had a faint frown on his face as he strolled towards the gym. Jackie’s comment about an AFL scout had disturbed him. He wanted it to be good news, but he’d been burnt the year before when scouts, recruiters, and player agents had all spoken to him, but he hadn’t been selected by any of the teams. He didn’t want his hopes to get too high.

He had already ruled out talking to Peter. That was an option for the future, but as the new vice-captain, he didn’t want it to look like he was ready to move on. Trying to be honest with himself, Ty knew that if he was picked by an AFL team in the 2014 draft, leaving the Leopards would be hard. He felt closer to his Leopard teammates than he ever had with any of his junior teams. He would go because his dream was to play in the AFL, but he would go with mixed emotions.

There was only one person he could talk to: Jim. Karen would understand a lot of what he was feeling, but Ty’s girlfriend wasn’t an elite athlete and didn’t have her dreams set on a lofty goal. To find that goal possibly within reach after having it snatched away from him the previous year, was…frightening. Would it be snatched away again?

Ty stopped after entering the gym. He had forgotten about the magazine photo shoot which appeared to be winding up. Jim was slipping on his training top as the photography crew started packing up the lights.

“Brat!” Jim grinned and waved Ty forward. “Brat, this is Michael and Ross. They’re the guys from Men’s Health. Ross is the photographer, and Michael’s been doing the interview. Guys, this is Ty, better known as the brat, the team’s newly elected vice-captain.”

Ty smiled and shook their hands. “I hope Dad hasn’t been giving you too many problems.”

Michael grinned. “No, he’s been great. I’ll admit I got a bit of a surprise the first time someone used that nickname, but it seems pretty widespread throughout the club. I wouldn’t mind getting more details on the background of how Jim got the name. Is there any chance I could have a few words with you before I go? I’m also trying to get some additional views and opinions for the article, and the vice-captain of the team seems like a great pick.”

Ty grinned back. “Sure.” He smirked at Jim. “I’ve got lots of opinions about Dad. I’ve also got the full history of where the name came from.”

Jim sighed and shook his head. “If you have to…” He smiled at Michael. “The brat’s the one who gave me the nickname. I retaliated by calling him a brat. Both names stuck.”

Ross raised his camera. “Any chance of a few shots of the two of you together? We may not use any of them, but the more pictures we’ve got, the more options available for the article.”

“Sure!” Ty draped an arm across Jim’s shoulders and smiled. “Tell me what you want me to do. I don’t mind showing up Dad.”

Jim chuckled. After Ross had taken a few quick snaps, Jim turned to Ty. “Are you busy? Ross wants some action shots out on the oval. If you’re free, would you mind feeding me the footballs?”

“Not a problem. Anything to help out an old man like you.”

“Brat.”

Ty grinned. His questions about the AFL scout could wait until Jim’s photo shoot was finished.

* * *

“…so, what do you think?” Ty glanced nervously at Jim as his mentor drove the two of them home. Ty had taken the opportunity to talk to Jim about the rumour Jackie had passed on.

Jim grimaced. “Firstly, if you get drafted at the end of the year, there’s no one in the club who isn’t going to be happy for you. You can expect a big celebration if it happens…but there’s no guarantee it’s you. While you’re the standout player at the moment, brat, there are others on the team that may be on the radar of one of the AFL teams. Deon’s fast approaching Roger’s level of ability, Dave’s playing fantastic football and would be a great pick for an AFL team based on that, and Zach’s developing well as a ruckman. It could be any of them.”

“Yeah, I worked out that for myself. Do you think I should ask Peter about the scout?”

Jim didn’t answer immediately as he concentrated on managing the turn across the main road through Lilydale. “I suggest you talk to Roger first. He’s just as likely to know what’s going on, and he’ll tell you if it’s worth passing on to Peter.”

Ty stared through the windscreen of Jim’s car, though he wasn’t seeing what was there. “I didn’t get picked last year. I’m not playing much different now, so it’s probably not me. If they thought I was worth taking, they would’ve taken me last year. So, it’s going to be someone else they’re looking at.” Ty nodded to himself. “My job is to make sure that person, whoever he is, gets the support he needs.”

Jim chuckled. “Are you trying to convince yourself you’re not good enough, brat?”

Ty realised he’d been talking out loud. “I wasn’t good enough for the 2013 draft. Why should it be any different now?”

Jim gnawed on his lower lip as he flicked his eyes towards his young friend before returning his attention to the road. “Do you want an honest answer, brat?”

Ty blinked. Fear and hope fought for a few seconds before he grunted and made a decision. “It doesn’t matter. This changes nothing. We’re here to win the premiership. We’re Leopards, not AFL draftees. It’s not worth speculating on, as it’s out of our hands. All we can do is play the best we can and work towards winning the grand final in September. Everything else is irrelevant.”

Jim smiled. “Fair enough, brat, but I’ll give you one thing to think about. How important is teamwork to an AFL team?” Jim lifted a hand off the steering wheel for a moment to stop Ty’s reply. “You don’t need to give me an answer; I just want you to give it some thought and maybe think about how the answer applies to you.”

Ty sat back and thought about it for the rest of the short trip home. He understood what Jim was telling him, but he didn’t want to believe it. It made the previous year’s disappointment that much worse and risked raising his current hopes too high.

* * *

Todd grinned as he stepped into the lounge room. “Mrs. Rosewood, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Todd Underwood.”

She smiled. “Please, call me Mary. I know you can’t stay long, but would you like a cup of tea or coffee?”

“Coffee would be nice, thank you. Black’s fine, no sugar.”

Mary Rosewood glanced at Neil who had been hovering behind Todd. “Neil, could you please make Todd a coffee? I’ll have a cup of tea.”

Neil hesitated for a moment. “Er…right, Mum.” He paused in the doorway to the kitchen and, out of sight of his mother, gave Todd a wary look.

Todd smiled and nodded his head, trying to tell the young man that everything was fine. “Thanks, Neil.”

Mrs. Rosewood gave a snort of laughter. “Would you please sit down, Todd? I’m going to get a crick in my neck if I have to keep looking up at you.”

Todd laughed. “Sure, Mary.”

Once he was seated on the couch, she perched on the edge of the chair opposite him. “Neil tells me you have a six-year-old boy. You must’ve gotten married quite young.”

Todd smiled. “It’s a little more complicated than that. As far as I’m concerned, Sean is my son, and I’m treating him as such, but he’s not mine. Lorraine’s older than me, and Sean’s her son from a failed marriage. I do intend to marry her and make it all legal, but that’ll be further down the track.”

After talking with Neil earlier, Todd had decided not to mention Becky unless it became relevant. He didn’t want to lie, but he thought Neil’s parents may not immediately accept the idea of a twenty-three-year-old with a daughter who is ten, almost eleven.

“Oh, I see. Sorry for the misunderstanding, but I had the impression that Sean was yours. Does this mean you’re current…cohabitating…with your girlfriend?”

“Not at the moment, though we’ve discussed my moving in with her. We’re not rushing anything, though.”

Mary frowned. “Neil said you wouldn’t be staying for dinner because you’d want to get back to your family…”

“That’s right. I’m having dinner with Lorraine and the kids tonight. I try to do that each Tuesday and Thursday night and also on weekends. I won’t be heading home until later.”

“Kids? How many children does she have?”

Todd mentally kicked himself. He loved talking about Lorraine and her children and hadn’t been able to stop himself. “Two. There’s also Becky, her daughter.” Todd smiled. “She’s a handful at times, but I still love her.”

Mary sighed. “A daughter would be nice.”

Todd hesitated, unsure if he should comment on her statement. He gnawed at his lower lip as he wondered what it meant.

Mrs. Rosewood smiled. “When Neil was born there were…complications. The doctor recommended that we not have any more children. Phil and I talked about adopting, but raising Neil was a challenge early on, and we never got around to doing anything about it.”

Neil returned, carrying a tray with the drinks. He put it down on a side table and handed his mother a cup and saucer. He handed one mug to Todd and kept the other for himself. “What was that about me?” he asked as he sat down.

“I was just explaining why you’re an only child.” She turned back to Todd. “I don’t want to imply that Neil was a problem child, because he wasn’t. It’s just that Phil was trying to start his own business at the time, and it all got too much. He eventually decided to work for someone else, but at the time the pressures of starting a business and having a newborn in the house kept us fully occupied.”

Todd nodded. “I’ve looked into what’s required to start my own business, so I know a little of what you’re talking about. I still haven’t made a firm decision.”

“What do you do for a living?” Mary asked.

“I’m an electrician. I work for a small company based in Ringwood. That’s where I did my apprenticeship, and my boss kept me on when I finished.”

Mary’s forehead wrinkled. “Can you tell me about some of your other friends? Are they all into trades like you?”

Todd smiled. “No. Owen and Dave are in sales and Charlie’s doing a science degree at RMIT. Jim’s just gotten himself a job at a radio station. Most of the rest are in trades or similar jobs, though. We’ve all got our aptitudes, and we’re generally happy doing what we do. Ultimately, that’s what’s really important, isn’t it? Being happy with whatever job you’ve got?”

Mary smiled. “I suppose it is. Phil enjoys his job. It was the paperwork associated with running a business that he hated. He loves working with his hands; a desk job would kill him.” Her gaze flicked to Neil for a moment. “We’ve got hopes for Neil, though. He’s doing well enough at school to hopefully go on to university.”

Todd grinned at Neil, who blushed and dropped his head. “I hope he does, too. He’s a smart guy, and I really want to see him do well with his VCE. Year 12 is a critical year for him, and we’re all wishing him the best. None of us wants anything to disrupt his schooling.”

Neil’s head snapped up, and Todd caught his eye. Todd wanted to make sure that Neil got the message: dropping out of school was not an option.

* * *

Robert Flanders had just sat down in his leather chair to watch television when his phone rang. Mentally muttering curses to whoever it was that was ringing at seven on a Tuesday night, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was an unfamiliar number. “Yes?”

“Hi, I’m Brendan Winters, and I’m with the Geelong Football Club. Is this Ty Flanders?”

Mr. Flanders mind started to race. “No. I’m his father. What’s it about?”

“Can I speak to Ty, please? We’d like to sit down with him sometime over the next few weeks and talk about his football: how he’s going and where he thinks he’ll go from here. We’re flexible with when and where, but we’re happy to take him out to dinner one night if he’s amenable.”

“Are you saying that Geelong is interested in recruiting him?” Ty’s father frowned at the implication.

“We’re certainly keeping an eye on him. He impressed a number of people in the game against our VFL team the other week, and we’d like to talk with him about it.”

“Ty’s not here at the moment, but I can contact him and find out if he’s interested. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll call you back.”

“We can call him if you give us his number. There’s no need to bother you. I thought this was his number, not yours.”

Mr. Flanders smiled to himself as he realised why they had contacted him and not Ty directly. He had been the one to fill in his son’s draft-nomination form the year before, and naturally he had given them his own contact details, not his son’s. That meant that the only phone number and email address the AFL clubs had for Ty were for his father.

“No, it’s no problem. I prefer to manage things for my son rather than have him be bothered all the time. I’ll call you back shortly.”

Grinning broadly, Mr. Flanders hung up on the caller and rang his son.

“What do you want?” Ty said bluntly as soon as he answered.

“I’m sorry to see that those people you’ve associated yourself with have done nothing for your social skills. Your mother and I raised you better than that.”

“The things you taught me aren’t good enough in the real world, Father. Dad has taught me a lot more that’s useful. We had a talk this afternoon, in fact, and I’m coming to realise that if there’s anyone who’s to blame for my not getting drafted last year, it’s you.”

Mr. Flanders scowled. He found it insulting that his son was calling that upstart homosexual ‛Dad’ while ignoring his real father. It was even worse that Henderson appeared to be trying to unjustly assign the blame for Ty’s failings on him rather than on the person who had failed to perform. “I’m calling you to give you one more chance to come to your senses and come home. If you return here, I can get you into the AFL. You’ll never make it without me.”

“Fuck off! I did everything you wanted last year, and I didn’t get drafted. I’m playing better football now than I did then, and there’s been a scout watching the Leopards that a lot people think is there for me. I don’t need you.”

The knuckles on Mr. Flanders’s free hand were white from clenching too hard. “You won’t make it without my guidance, Ty. You will come home and apologise, or you can kiss goodbye any chance you have of making it to the AFL.”

“No. Now, fuck off.”

The phone line went dead. Mr. Flanders glared for several seconds, and then a cruel sneer crept onto his face. Taking a couple of breaths to calm himself down, he dialled the number of the Geelong Football Club’s contact.

“Hello, Mr. Flanders. Were you able to speak to Ty?”

“I’m sorry, but Ty’s not interested in meeting you. He doesn’t want to play for the Cats next year. I tried to convince him otherwise, but he was adamant. Geelong’s not the club for him.”

“He is aware, I hope, that under the terms of the draft he can’t decline if we draft him. He’s agreed to honour a two-year contract with any club that chooses him.”

“Of course, but that doesn’t mean he’ll work hard for a club he doesn’t want to play for. I know my son, and he can be an arrogant fool sometimes, even when I’ve told him he’s wrong. I’m sorry, but I think you’re wasting your time.”

Mr. Flanders’s smile was cold. Ty would pay for the insults and humiliations he had inflicted on his father.

Disclaimer: Some public figures have been included in this story for effect. This is fiction, and the words and actions of those characters are mine and not those of the real person. All other individuals depicted are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental.

I would like to thank trebs, C James and MikeL for the advice they gave on early versions and rec for editing this story for me. A special thank you to ricky for that crucial final review before publication.

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