Leopard Spots

Chapter 26

Christopher Talbot smiled as he stepped into the office. “Welcome back, sir.”

Patrick O’Malley snorted. “Which is your way of saying that there’s a shitload of work to be done, and you’re glad I’m here to go through it.” He smiled. “Did anything interesting happen while I was away?”

Patrick’s assistant shrugged. “Nothing unusual. I’ll let you settle in before I give you a briefing. A few items of note, but nothing is urgent.” He paused. “Did you get away as you intended?”

“Yes, I did. Three days of annual leave along with the public holidays gave me ten days off, though with the number of people at the airport, I suspect half of Australia had the same idea. I went to visit my grandson and greet my new great-granddaughter.” A wistful smile flowed across the old man’s face. “What I wouldn’t give for my wife to have been around long enough to have seen her.” He frowned and shook his head. “Ignore me. Give me twenty minutes to settle in and then run me through what I’ve missed over the last two weekends.” He scowled at his desk. “I should’ve gotten myself a cup of tea before I sat down.”

“Wait there, sir, and I’ll have one for you in two minutes.”

Patrick smiled at his assistant’s retreating back. Christopher knew how much he hated moving around too much because of his arthritis. “Thank you!” he called out.

Forty minutes later, refreshed by a cup of tea and a small muffin that Christopher had thoughtfully provided, Patrick listened to the end of Christopher’s rundown of the last two weekends.

“Anything else?” Patrick asked.

“There’s one more item. It’s to do with Flanders at the Lilydale Leopards. We’re getting conflicting reports through the grapevine as to what’s going on.”

“You’ll need to give me more than that.” Patrick’s gaze darted to his computer screen as he brought up his file on the young player.

“We’ve heard that there are a number of other teams interested in him, to the extent that his name was passed onto the chairman of selectors for the VFL state team. They wanted to see Flanders play against South Australia at the end of next month.”

Patrick nodded. “I seem to recall telling you that we wouldn’t be able to keep his ability a secret. But you said conflicting reports. Where’s the conflict?”

“We’ve had confirmation by a usually reliable source that Geelong is no longer interested in him. There’s a strong indication that another team has also dropped him from consideration.”

The old man frowned and went back to his notes. After a quick read, he nodded. “The attitude problem.”

“We believe so. Geelong were apparently told that he’s not interested in playing for them. We suspect that at least one other team has been told the same, but we don’t have that confirmed.”

“So, he may not be interested in playing for us, either.” Mr. O’Malley pursed his lips. “Has anyone approached him?”

“Not yet. I believe you wanted to see how he behaved after a loss, but they’ve won every game since you made that request. Next week’s game is against Footscray and shouldn’t be much tougher for them. The Bulldogs VFL team have had a shocking start to the season, though they had a good win on the weekend. The current recommendation from the list manager is to wait until after that game and then contact Flanders to organise a chat. His view is that we don’t know how long it will be before the Leopards lose, so we shouldn’t wait.”

“A reasonable approach. Keep me informed as to what happens.”

“Yes, sir. Is there anything else you want me to chase up on?”

Patrick O’Malley smiled. “I’ll let you know after I’ve reviewed the videos of the last two weeks.”

He settled himself in front of his large computer screen and started the first of the DVDs. His workload was about to increase, as it was almost time to start having a good look at the fifteen-year-olds. It would be three years before they’d be eligible to be drafted, but every AFL team was aware they had to know what sort of players were coming up in the pipeline so they could plan ahead. If the next year’s draft group was going to be short of quality tall forwards, for example, it made sense to pick one or more from the current draft, even if there was a stronger midfielder or defender available.

* * *

Neil glanced up and frowned as he recognised the person standing next to his desk. “What do you want?” At the start of the year, he would’ve said that with a cringe and averted eyes. This time it was with belligerence and a scowl.

“Here, this is for you.” Liam held out an envelope that had enough inside to be bulging slightly. He didn’t make eye contact with Neil.

Neil stared, not accepting the proffered gift. “What is it?”

Liam tossed it on the desk. “Part of what I owe you. I tried to work it out last night, but after five years, I couldn’t remember everything, so I guessed. This isn’t restitution. This is just what I need to pay back.”

Clarissa stepped forward. “What the fuck are you doing, Jerk Face?”

Liam didn’t raise his head. “Trying to fix things.” He turned away and took a seat at a vacant desk as far from Neil as was practical.

Neil glanced up at Clarissa and frowned. She shrugged. “Have a look and see what it is.”

Neil cautiously eased open the unsealed envelope. He didn’t put it past Liam to have some sort of practical joke concealed inside. His eyes widened as he saw the contents, and he quickly slipped the envelope into his bag. He turned around to look at Liam, his mouth slightly open. Liam had been watching him but quickly dropped his head when Neil started staring.

“What is it?” Clarissa asked.

“Cash. Lots of it.” Neil didn’t even attempt to guess how much, but since they were all yellow fifty-dollar notes, he knew it was hundreds.

“Why?”

“He said it was what he owed.”

“I don’t understand. Since when did he owe you money?”

The arrival of the teacher prevented Neil from answering. The class started, but Neil was only able to give the lesson part of his attention. The bulk of his thoughts were trying to work out what Liam was up to.

* * *

Clarissa grabbed Liam by the arm as they left the classroom. “Start explaining, mister.”

“Explain what?” Liam could make a good guess, but he didn’t want to volunteer the information in the middle of the hallway with other students streaming past them.

“About that money. Why did you give it to Neil?”

Liam glanced around and then led Clarissa back into the classroom; it seemed the easiest place to hold a semi-private conversation at short notice. “As I told him, it’s part of what I owe.”

Clarissa’s lips were pursed. “He didn’t think you owed him anything.”

“You don’t think I owe him for five years of bullying?” Liam glared at her. “Do you have any idea what’s been happening? Do you have any fucking idea of what I’ve done to the guy? What I gave him doesn’t come close to making up for what he’s gone through! Money doesn’t change the past. I wish it could. But it was all I could think of to try to make up for five years of hell.”

Liam stormed out. He knew he would have to talk to her again later in the day, but he needed to calm down first. He also wanted more time than the handful of minutes that they had before their next class started.

Liam slipped into the chair next to Doug as their teacher entered the room.

“Did you do it?” Doug whispered.

“At the start of the last lesson.”

“You’re a bloody idiot. It was too much money. You could’ve gotten away with half that amount.”

Liam didn’t have a chance to reply, as the lesson started. He knew Doug was right in that it was a lot of money he had handed over. It felt like he was trying to buy Neil’s friendship, and he had to admit to himself that there was an element of that in his decision. But every time he had considered changing the amount, the cold hard figures stared back at him. Five years; around thirty five weeks a year; all spent making Neil’s life hell. Even at a paltry three dollars a week for ruined lunches, messed up books, or general pain and suffering, that worked out at more than the $500 he had handed over.

The money was a significant part of what he had been saving up so he could buy himself a second-hand car when he got his license. Giving it to Neil meant he would have to wait longer before he had his own set of wheels, but when weighed up against the guilt he felt, it was a small price to pay. How long he’d have to wait, he wasn’t sure. When he had talked to his parents about a financial payment to Neil, they had approved the idea, though expressing surprise at the amount. They then suggested that he quit his current part-time job and take up charity work instead. Their comment was that it might help him appreciate more what he’d been given and to have a better understanding for those less fortunate. Hiding his reluctance at the barely concealed order, Liam had agreed.

Liam told himself that giving Neil the money was the right thing to do, but he had a cold feeling in his heart that it was also a terrible mistake. He didn’t know what it was, but there was also something wrong with what he’d done.

A nudge from Doug shook Liam out of his contemplations.

“Wake up, mate. The class is over.”

Liam’s gaze darted around the nearly empty room. The last students were heading out the door, leaving Doug and Liam alone. “What the fuck…?”

“I don’t know why you weren’t caught, but you didn’t pay any attention during the class. You just stared out into space, not seeing or hearing anything.” Doug put a hand on Liam’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Liam gave a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. I’m feeling like my guts have been ripped out, that I only just avoided killing someone. Clarissa hinted to me at the end of last term that Neil might’ve been close to killing himself, but I hadn’t believed her.”

“You’re going over the top, Liam. All we’ve done is play a few harmless pranks on him. Nothing serious, and that’s the truth. It’ll be what I tell my parents if they ask. They haven’t so far, so it looks like your folks are keeping quiet.”

Liam winced. “Sorry about that, Doug. I made a slip and didn’t think quickly enough to fix it. My only defence is that it was just after Dad told me that Neil had been planning to quit school. I panicked, thinking that we were the cause.”

Doug stared for a moment and then laughed. When Liam scowled, Doug stopped, but it was obvious he was still amused. “Do you want something to cheer you up?” Doug asked.

Liam narrowed his eyes, wondering what Doug was up to. “As long as you’re not picking on Neil.”

Doug shrugged. “Yes and no. I was just thinking what you said about Neil quitting school. I found myself agreeing with him for the first time in my life. If I could get away with it, I’d quit school, too. I hate this place.” Doug grinned. “There, are you happy? You managed to get me to think that Neil’s a smart guy, at least for a moment. If you can do that, you can do anything. Getting a boyfriend should be a walk in the park in comparison.”

Liam gave him a weak smile in return. Making Neil like him wasn’t going to be that simple.

* * *

Clarissa caught him at lunchtime. Liam had been surreptitiously watching Neil sitting with the girls, when she turned her head and looked straight at him. He ducked around the corner of the building but then realised that she was going to hunt him down. Rather than fuel her anger by trying to avoid her, he took advantage of the remaining time he had to prepare a reason for talking to her.

“Why are you stalking me?” Clarissa snarled the question as soon as she spotted him.

Liam glanced around to make sure there wasn’t anyone else nearby. “Do you want to keep your voice down? I’ve found out something, and I wanted to tell you, but I haven’t had a chance before now.”

“What?” Her blunt tone told him he needed to be quick.

“Last term, Neil was thinking about dropping out of school. I believe he’s changed his mind, but I thought you should know.”

She frowned and gave him a sceptical scare. “How the hell did you find out that?”

Liam shrugged. “Someone at the football club that Neil visits told someone who told me. Yeah, the information may’ve been distorted in the process, but I thought it was critical enough to pass on.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe you. It doesn’t make sense. How would that first person in the chain find out that information?”

“I don’t know, but it was one, maybe more, of the football players with the Lilydale Leopards who supposedly talked Neil out of quitting.”

She stared for a moment. “Is that what the money’s about and why you went off at me this morning? You’re feeling guilty?”

Liam glared at her. “Is that so fucking hard to believe? Despite what you may think, I’m not a bastard!” He turned his back on her while clenching his fists. He wanted to punch something from anger and frustration, but there was nothing suitable nearby.

“I’ve never thought you were a bastard,” Clarissa said in a soft voice. “A jerk, yes, but not a bastard.”

Liam marched off. She was blocking him from watching Neil, and he had nothing more to say to her. Sticking around would just make him more annoyed.

* * *

Doug and Liam were about to step out through the school gates when Neil stepped in front of them. He kept a wary eye on Doug as he spoke to Liam. “Can we talk?”

Doug scowled at Neil before turning to his best friend. “I’ll wait for you at the end of the street, Liam.”

Neil watched Doug head off and then turned back to Liam with a slightly perplexed expression. “That was easy.”

Liam waved a hand towards the exit. “Do you want to talk while we walk, or did you want to go somewhere?”

“We can walk.”

The two headed out. Liam had to keep a tight control on himself, as he found he kept wanting to edge closer to Neil. “What’s up?”

Neil glared. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you can’t buy me off.”

Liam grimaced. “I’m not trying to do that.”

“You’re not? Then why did you give me five-hundred fucking dollars? That’s not chicken feed!”

Liam quickly settled on a version of the truth. “I told my Dad about how I’ve been treating you. He wasn’t happy. He told me I had to make it up to you, and I thought one way I could do that is paying you back for what I’ve made you spend over the years. Lunches, books, clothes.” Liam winced. “I know it’s not enough, but I hope it’s a start. I really want you to understand. I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

Neil frowned as they walked in silence for a few paces. “Why now? What’s changed? Why couldn’t you have done this back in Year 7 when it all started?”

Liam didn’t think Neil was ready for the real answer, so he shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I didn’t really realise what I’ve been doing to you until Clarissa pointed it out. Maybe I’m finally growing up.”

There was another pause in the conversation. “I don’t believe you. I don’t know what it is that you’re up to, Liam, but I won’t let you hurt me again.”

Liam winced. “I know, and I understand. I hope you’ll eventually forgive me, but I don’t expect that to be anytime soon.”

Neil gave Liam a hard stare, and then he walked off. Liam watched him go, wondering if Neil would ever change his mind. He was still standing there when Doug put an arm across his shoulders. “What did he want?”

“He just wanted to know what was going on —why I was being nice to him.”

“Did you tell the truth? That you’ve gone crazy?”

Liam snorted and gave Doug a smile. “No. I told him that you had the hots for him, and I’m just the middleman.”

Doug chuckled. “It sounds like you’re returning to your normal self. I was beginning to get worried.”

Liam sighed. “Sorry, Doug, but I’m still gay, and I still want him.”

* * *

Liam let out a sigh of relief when Neil signed on to IM that night.

He immediately started typing. He also made a special effort to avoid using the normal chat-speak as he had already learnt that Neil didn’t know the usual shorthand most teenagers used.

Alf: G’day, mate.
Neil: Hi, Alf! It’s been an odd day for me. How about you?
Alf: Not too bad. Had better. What made it odd?
Neil: Liam, that prick who’s been harassing me gave me some money today.
Neil: Said it was what he owed me.

Liam thought for a moment and typed a question, mentally keeping his fingers crossed.

Alf: Do you think he meant it?
Neil: Don’t know. I would’ve said no, but he’s acting weird.
Alf: What do you mean?
Neil: I don’t really know what I mean. Maybe he really is trying to make amends.

Liam grinned. That was progress.

Alf: It could be. I’ve noticed a change in him, too. He seems nicer.
Neil: Let’s not go too far. He’s still a jerk.

Liam grunted. He was still trying to work out how to counter that view when another message from Neil appeared.

Neil: But, yeah, he seems different. He still scares me at times, but that’s because I don’t know what he’s thinking. I used to.
Alf: Do you think it’s because he’s gay?

Liam held his breath. He was thinking about revealing the fact that Alf’ is gay, but he wasn’t sure if it was too early.

Neil: I hope not. I’d hate for anyone to lump him and Jim together.
Alf: Maybe he likes you. You’re a good-looking guy, after all.

Liam stared at the screen, crossed fingers held high. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was wishing for, but he knew Alf had just crossed another line towards coming out.

Neil: LOL. He doesn’t like me. I know that because he’s told me that himself, and that was after he came out.
Alf: When was this?

Liam frowned, trying to work out what Neil was talking about.

Neil: It was last term. I asked him how to get rid of Clarissa. He said tell her I’m gay, that it worked for him.
Neil: He then said to not do that; people might try to hook the two of us up.
Neil: He doesn’t like me.

“Shit! Why the hell did you have to remember that? I didn’t know then…” Liam gritted his teeth.

Alf: His loss. I’m sure if he got to know the real you, he’d change his mind.
Neil: That’s nice of you to say, but there’s no way I’d want to hook up with him.
Neil: Not that I’m saying I’m gay.
Neil: I’m saying if I were, I wouldn’t want him.
Neil: Alf?

Liam sighed and decided to bite the bullet.

Alf: I’m gay.
Neil: ~hug~ I thought you were. I won’t tell anyone, and I’m still your friend. I don’t mind that you’re gay.
Alf: Thank you.
Alf: I’ve got to go. Sorry to cut this short.
Alf: I’ve some chores to do.

Liam logged off. He stared at the computer screen for a moment and then slammed his fist onto the desktop. “Why, why, why, do you have to remember that comment? Fuck you, Neil! I’d forgotten it; why couldn’t you?” He dropped his head. “Why couldn’t you?”

“Liam?”

Liam looked up and saw his mother in his bedroom doorway. “Yes?”

“I heard a loud bang. Is everything alright?”

Liam let out a loud sigh as he stood up. “I don’t know if I’m wasting my time.”

His mother frowned and then stepped forward and gave him a hug. “It’ll work out. Have faith.”

“I know, but sometimes I think I’m beating my head against a brick wall. One that I built.” He grimaced. “Time to get onto the chores. I think it’s the ironing tonight, right?”

She gave him a soft smile. “I also bought some oven cleaner today. It’s on the bench in the kitchen. Have a look at the instructions and work out when you can do it. You’ll need to have it done before the weekend because you’ll be cooking a nice dinner for us on Saturday; I just need to pick out the recipes.” She chuckled at Liam’s expression. “Think of it as training, not punishment. When you move into your own place, you can’t be sure your partner will be doing all these things. You need to know how.” She grinned. “It’ll also make you a more attractive boyfriend. Everyone wants someone else to do the cooking and cleaning.”

Liam rolled his eyes, but he had to smile. His mother had picked just the right argument to make the new chores palatable.

* * *

“…and he told me he’s gay!” Neil’s voice over the phone rang with excitement.

Todd couldn’t help smiling, but he still kept in mind that it could all be some complicated trap by Neil’s tormentors.

“What did you say? Did you tell him you’re gay, too?”

“No, I’m not ready for that. In fact, I had just said that I wasn’t saying I’m gay, and he told me he was in response. I then told him I suspected it and that I was still his friend. He ended the chat just after that with some lame excuse. I think he was stressing out; I must’ve been the first person he’d ever told, even if it’s anonymously via the Internet.”

“It must be scary for you guys. Jim’s only mentioned it to me once, but I could tell that it wasn’t something he had looked forward to doing. The more I think about it, the braver I realise you were when you told Lorraine and me. That must’ve been difficult.”

“It was. I needed to do it, though, because otherwise I’d never been able to speak to Jim.” Neil chuckled. “It’s strange. I had my eyes fixed on Jim helping me out, and it’s turned out it’s you who’s done everything for me. I don’t think I’ve said it, so thanks, Todd. Your friendship means the world to me.”

Todd wiped a hand across his eyes. “Your friendship means a lot to me, too. I know I’ve told you before, but if you ever need me, just ring. Don’t worry if I’m at work or training. As soon as I hear from you, I’ll be on my way.”

“Thanks, Todd, but things are really turning around. Doug & Co. have stopped the bullying. Clarissa is no longer harassing me but instead is trying to be nice. I’ve got you guys as an escape from home every week or so. Life’s looking good! I don’t know what’s going to happen next year, but I’m beginning to feel that that will sort itself out when the time is right.”

“That’s great, Neil! Now, I need you to do something for me.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“You know how you just said I’ve done everything for you…?” Todd grinned in anticipation.

“Yeah…”

“Can you ring Ty and tell him that? He’s under the delusion that he’s helped out, too.”

Neil laughed. “No fucking way. He’s supposed to be the brat, not you.” His tone went serious. “And, he’s been great, too. Same with Lorraine and Sean. Paul, Ollie, even Helena —all you guys have helped me. I don’t know why, but I’m really, really happy that you’ve done so. You’ve made a huge difference to my life.”

* * *

Will glanced across as Deon approached. It was Tuesday morning, and Deon was at the football club to work on his skills as a forward.

“Sorry, Deon, you’re not with me today. Julie’s asked to work with you.” He grinned when Deon winced. “She’s not that bad. She’s got an idea about your kicking that she wants to investigate. If it doesn’t pan out, it’s only one training session. If it does, it’ll give you something extra to work on.

“I certainly hope so. While I kicked five goals on Sunday, I missed more than I got.” Deon screwed up his face for a moment and then smiled. “Thanks, Will. I really appreciate the fact that all of you guys are trying to work out what’s going wrong.”

“It’s our job, Deon.” Will waved a hand dismissively. “Now, go. She’s waiting for you.”

Deon jogged over and joined Julie near the southern goal posts. She had laid out a set of markers on the ground in a direct line away from the middle of the goal. There was also a large basket of footballs at the furthest point in the line from the goal.

Julie looked up as he approached. “About time. I was beginning to think I’d have to get you to join Dad and the brat.”

Deon glanced over to where his two housemates were running laps, interspersed with short sprints. They’d told him about Julie’s idea of endurance work, and he was glad that as a forward he wasn’t required to run as much as those two.

Julie clicked her fingers to attract his attention. “I couldn’t see what was wrong on Sunday, but I wasn’t in a position to get a good look at your action. Last night, while Peter took the midfielders, I watched you work with the other forwards. I’m not sure exactly what your problem is, but there was something about your action that didn’t seem quite right. I looked at those videos, but there wasn’t enough detail for me to be sure of what I was seeing, so we’re going to go through the same exercise again, but this time you’re going to take the exact same line each time,” she waved at the markers on the ground, “and you’re going to try to take the kick from the same place each time. I’ll be watching to try to work out what it is that’s bothering me. How does that sound?”

Deon grinned. “Sounds great. You’re the first person to confirm that there may be a problem with my action. That had just been my dad’s guess as to what was going wrong, and I was beginning to think it was him that was wrong.” He glanced around. “Are you going to video this?”

“No. I want to be concentrating on you, not on getting a camera pointing in the right direction.” Julie smiled. “Now, get to work. I want you to kick the ball as you reach the last marker in the line.”

Fifteen minutes later, Julie was frowning. “I think I might know what’s happening.” She glanced over to the sideline where Jim and Ty were jogging and raised her voice. “Dad, brat, I need all those footballs collected and back in this basket. You’ve got three minutes. Go!” She grinned at Deon. “There’s no need for us to collect them every time.”

Deon smiled. “Anyone would think you don’t like them.”

Julie shrugged. “The brat called me a bitch when I started. I’m trying to live up to his expectations.” She flicked him a grin and then went serious. “One thing that makes this a little easier for both of us is that you’ve gotten into the habit of having your run-up in a straight line towards where you want to kick the ball. A lot of modern players don’t do that anymore, but come in on an angle and change direction at the end of their run as they’re about to kick. I’m not a fan of that approach, though it’s very popular. Buddy Franklin’s a good example of someone who does this, and you can’t argue with the results he gets. However, I’m in the Matthew Lloyd camp and prefer a straight-line run-up.”

Deon nodded while waiting for her to tell him what he was doing wrong.

“The reason no one picked up a problem from the videos is that most of them didn’t have the context of what you were aiming at. That was needed so we could check how you were aligned to that target. Without that, the videos didn’t give us what we needed.”

“So they were a waste of time!”

“No, but they weren’t as useful as they could’ve been. Your problem is fairly subtle: your body is slightly twisted when you’re kicking the ball. Not a lot, but enough that it’s throwing off your aim. You need to square up your hips and shoulders, so that they’re aimed directly at the goals.”

Deon frowned. “How do I fix it?”

“I’ve got an exercise for you to do. We’ll start small and build up. Come with me.” She collected a couple of footballs from the basket that Ty and Jim were filling, and led Deon to the closest corner of the centre square. “What I want you to do is a small run up and a simple kick down the line. The ball should continue down that line. As you get more accurate with the short kick, increase your run up and increase how hard you’re kicking. Your goal is to make the ball go straight, using the edge of the square as your guide. Concentrate on the far end of the line, and let’s see if we can’t get your body to line up accordingly.”

“I normally concentrate on where I’m going to take my kick and on the man on the mark. Are you telling me I need to change that?”

“No, I’m asking you to try an alternative approach, and we’ll see if it makes a difference. Kicking style can be very individual. Players can develop in a number of different ways and end up with different ways to achieve the same result. There’s no one perfect way to kick the ball; there’s a multitude of approaches, with none being clearly better than the others. A lot of players concentrate close up when they’re kicking, but others have their heads higher and their focus further away. Let’s give it a go and see if it helps. If it doesn’t, we’ll try something else.”

“Thanks, Julie! I don’t know how you spotted it when no one else did, but thanks!”

Julie chuckled. “Do you think you’re the first person to have problems with their kicking? I had a run of players with the same issue in my second year as the Broncos coach. I had to do a lot of research to not only work out what’s going wrong—and it was different for almost every player—but also how to correct it when we worked it out.” She cocked her head. “You’re wasting time. Either start work or start running. Your choice.”

Deon quickly focused his attention on kicking the football. It was what he was there for, after all.

* * *

Neil smiled tentatively across the table at Clarissa. It was the first time for coffee after school on a Tuesday, and he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“Relax, Neil. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.” Clarissa smiled back. “You tend to stay out of the conversations at school, but this is your time. The idea is that we’re two friends who are chatting about whatever we want, and I’m letting you lead the conversation.”

Neil was confused. “What do you want to talk about?”

Clarissa chuckled. “You weren’t listening. We’re going to talk about what you want. Pick a topic, anything that interests you, and we’ll start from there.”

“I don’t know…” Neil didn’t like being put on the spot. “You could’ve given me a warning that that’s what you were going to do.”

She laughed. “It’s not that difficult! You’ve got interests. Tell me about one of them. And before you get defensive, I’m not going to pry. At least I’m going to try not to. You’re allowed to have secrets. You’re allowed to not want to comment about something. If that happens, we’ll talk about something else, instead.” She took a sip from her cafe latte. “You start.”

“Anything? It doesn’t matter if it’s deep and meaningful or light-hearted or even completely crazy?”

“Anything.”

Neil thought for a moment and decided he could get away with a topic that was close to his heart if he kept the focus on her. “What do you look for in a boyfriend?”

Clarissa had just taken another sip, and half of it ended up on the table in front of her as she sputtered. She grabbed a paper napkin and started to wipe up the mess. “You don’t pick easy ones?” She grinned. “My fault; I did say anything.”

“If you want to talk about something else…”

She shook her head. “No, that’s okay. It’s an interesting question but not so easy to answer.” She grimaced. “If you’re fishing, I have to admit that you’re not really my type. You’re too quiet for me; I want someone who I can interact with, who gives as good as he gets.”

Neil snorted. “No, I wasn’t fishing. I was just curious.” He was interested in knowing what girls looked for and to see if any of those characteristics would be suitable in a boyfriend for himself.

“Well, the Number 1 thing I look for is someone who is kind.”

Neil frowned. “Yet, you went out with Liam.”

Clarissa winced. “Yeah, I did. I know he wasn’t kind to you, but then no one really was. You’d have to lump me in that category, too.”

“You didn’t go out of your way to make my life hell!”

“No, but I didn’t do anything to stop it, either.” She paused. “Do we really need to talk about Jerk Face?”

“No, but if he didn’t meet your Number 1 want, why did you go out with him?”

“The problem is he was kind, at least to me. He ended up being a jerk, but while we were going out, he paid attention to me, to what I wanted. It wasn’t like some guys who expect that their girlfriends will go along with whatever they want. Liam would ask me what I wanted to do, and if his and my wishes were incompatible, we’d discuss them. As often as not, he would let me have my way. Not all the time—he wasn’t a doormat for me to walk over; that’s just as bad as the other way around—but when it was important to me, we did what I wanted.”

“You said his name. You didn’t call him Jerk Face.” Neil narrowed his eyes, trying to discern what she was thinking.

Clarissa shrugged. “Because we’re talking about a time from before he became a jerk.” She smiled, though it didn’t look happy, and she reached across the table to put a hand on top of Neil’s. “There’s only one person he’s been a consistent jerk to, and that’s you. I think it’s mainly Doug’s fault, because Liam tends to follow his lead, but I don’t absolve Jerk Face of responsibility. He’s got his own mind and can express his own thoughts. If he followed Doug, it was because he wanted to or didn’t have the guts to be his own man. He’s got a lot of good inside of him, and he’s got the potential to make someone a great boyfriend one day, but he’s got to learn to stand up for himself.” She chuckled. “How did we end up talking about Jerk Face? I thought we were supposed to be talking about what I look for in a boyfriend. Someone who’s gay is not on my list.”

Neil smiled. “Because he’s your ex. There had to be something about him you liked, but I couldn’t see it. Okay, back to your list. What else do you look for?”

“Let’s see…”

* * *

“Will you look at this rubbish? I almost didn’t buy the magazine this month.” Phillip Rosewood tossed the newly released May issue of Men’s Health onto the couch next to Neil.

“What’s wrong with it?” Neil didn’t bother to look. He had Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol open and was trying to finish it for his English class. The difference between the book and the movies based on the original story was making it a struggle, as his expectations had been set before he started reading. He’d been putting it off, thinking it would be an easy read, but was unpleasantly surprised. Thursday night wasn’t the best time to be starting something that he needed to have completed for his Friday class.

“Did you see the front cover? They’ve featured that bloody poof! They even gave him a headline: Strong and Proud! Fucking sell-outs. There’s no way a bloody poof should be in a men’s magazine. It’s political correctness gone mad.”

Neil’s eyes snapped to the magazine. There, bold and bright, was an action photograph of Jim Henderson, football in hand and wearing his Leopards training top, running towards the camera.

“What’s it about?” Neil asked.

His father picked up the magazine and dropped into his favourite chair. “Apparently, they’ve done an interview and featured a training program based on the poof. I’m tempted to rip out those pages. What would he know, anyway? It’s not like he’s an AFL player; he only plays VFL.”

Neil’s mind raced. His father rarely went back to old magazines, so once he had read that issue, Neil would be able to take it away with little risk. “They’ll probably have other articles on the back of those pages. It’ll be easier just to skip that section.”

Mr. Rosewood scowled. “Yeah, you’re right. Actually, it might be a good laugh to see what incompetent advice the guy has. I hope they feature a real footballer sometime soon to counteract whatever drivel this poof has to say.”

Neil took another surreptitious glance at the front-cover photo of Jim before returning his attention to Dickens. However, he couldn’t concentrate. He was curious as to what the article said about Jim and how positive it would be. He also wondered if Ty had seen the magazine yet. Neil stifled a grin as he considered Ty’s likely reaction to Dad being featured on the cover.

“Ah…here we are. Let’s see what garbage they’ve got.” Neil’s father settled into his chair. He snorted with derision. “Yeah, rubbish from the opening quote. 'Football is as much about the mind as the body’. What a load of crap! Football is about being physically tough, but what would a poof know about being tough…” There was a short pause before Mr. Rosewood snorted again. “Typical. Blaming being gay for not having the ability to reach the AFL. Says it’s because he had to hide who he was, he couldn’t put in the effort required. Excuses, excuses. How about simply admitting you weren’t bloody good enough!”

Neil stood up. “I’m going to study in my room.” He couldn’t concentrate with his father’s ongoing sneering commentary in his ears.

“Yeah, sure. Probably more worthwhile than what I’m reading.” Mr. Rosewood turned the page. “Now we get his idea of what’s a decent workout. Looks like he’s stolen it from people who know what they’re talking about. He’s even got his teammates to….” His voice faded.

Neil paused in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder. His father was frowning at the magazine. Before Neil could move on, Mr. Rosewood looked up and caught his eye. “Neil, can you explain this to me?” He pointed at the magazine.

Neil swallowed and took a tentative step back into the room. The tone of the question had been one of suspicious puzzlement. “What, Dad?”

Phillip Rosewood held up the magazine. His finger was pointing to a photo of Jim…and Ty. “You didn’t tell me your friend plays with the poof. You didn’t tell me he plays for Lilydale.” His voice rose. “You didn’t even bloody well tell me that he plays football!”

“Dad, I can explain…” Neil didn’t know how, but they were the words he found coming out of his mouth.

Mr. Rosewood snapped his fingers. “That’s where I’d seen him before! On TV when Henderson was on all the news programs. You kept that from me.”

“Dad…”

Neil’s father stood up and pointed at the couch. “Sit!”

Neil dropped into the specified seat. He found himself repetitively swallowing, not only from a mouth gone dry, but also from a stomach that was threatening to erupt.

Neil’s mother appeared from the kitchen. “What’s going on, Phil? Why are you yelling?”

“Not now, Mary.” Mr. Rosewood scowled at Neil. “Now, what else have you been hiding? This bunch of new friends you’ve found. Who, exactly, are they?”

Neil couldn’t meet his father’s narrowed gaze. “Most of the Lilydale Leopards football team.”

“Does that include Henderson?” The tone was suspicious.

Neil nodded.

“Who’s Henderson?” Mrs. Rosewood was clearly puzzled.

“Not now, Mary!” Neil’s father glared at his son. “Who did you meet first?”

“Todd. I was at one of their games when I helped Sean greet the players as they came onto the ground. That got me introduced to Sean’s mum, who introduced me to Todd. He introduced me to the rest.”

“Then it wasn’t the poof?” The tone sounded almost relieved, though still with a heavy dose of suspicion.

“No. I met him later.” Neil didn’t mention that Jim had been the reason for being at the game in the first place.”

“Hmm…”

Neil glanced up to see his father staring into the distance. His stomach started to settle as it appeared there was no immediate threat of violence.

“Phil, what’s this about?” Mary Rosewood asked her husband.

“It seems that Neil’s been keeping secrets. That bunch of friends he’s been hanging out with aren’t just any group of guys. They’re the Lilydale Leopards football team! And that includes that bloody poof who came out of the closet a couple of months ago!”

Mrs. Rosewood’s eyes widened, and she put a hand to her mouth. She stared at Neil. “He hasn’t…done anything…has he? Like what happened to your other friend?”

Neil scowled and jumped to his feet. “No, he bloody well hasn’t! Don’t talk about him like that! He’s a decent guy who happens to be gay! Why do you need to make such a big deal about it?”

Mr. Rosewood took a step forward and raised a hand, painfully reminding Neil that his father was both bigger and stronger than he was. “Don’t you speak to your mother like that!”

Neil cringed for a moment and then stiffened his spine. He defiantly met his father’s eyes. “She’s the one who was making accusations. Jim’s a good guy!”

Neil saw the hand coming, but he was too slow to avoid it. He found himself spinning around, the side of his face feeling as if it had erupted in fire.

“Go to your room! I’ll have more words with you after I’ve discussed this with your mother. Oh, and you’re grounded until further notice. We don’t want you seeing those so-called friends of yours ever again.”

Neil straightened and glared at his father. He wanted to say something more, but knew that would only make things worse.

His father raised his hand again. “Don’t you look at me like that. Go to your room!”

Neil turned and stormed off. Once in his bedroom, he threw himself on his bed. His anger vanished, and a severe chill ran through his body as he stared blankly up at the off-white ceiling. It wouldn’t be long before his father found out the rest of the truth. It was what happened after that that was scaring him.

* * *

It was just before midnight, and Liam frowned at his computer. Neil hadn’t logged on to chat with him. Alf and Neil had only missed one night: the previous Saturday when Neil had been staying with Todd. There had been no warning or message, so Liam had expected Neil to be online again. He had been checking the computer continuously for the last three hours, but there had been no sign of Neil.

Liam had already sent Neil a couple of emails, asking where he was. He sent one last one, saying he was logging off for the night and hoping that everything was okay. He was crossing his fingers that it was something as simple as a computer failure, but he couldn’t help fear that it was something worse.

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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