It’s Thursday evening and it’s our last training session before the grand final. The ground is dewy and slippery as I step onto the grass and cross the footy field for the grandstand.
My arse is still waking up from the hard carpet on the floor of the school library, where I’ve spent my recesses and lunchtimes for most of the week. Thanks to my extended library time, I’ve finally finished Ghost Story, but I can’t even talk to Tegan about it.
Harley’s kicking goals with Jack at the goalposts, the orange from the setting sun coating them both. It’s been five days and he still hasn’t replied to my message. I thought this morning about quitting footy. I made things weird with Harley, I have no friends anymore, and there’s the lingering threat that I might be called a faggot again, but I’ve only got one more game to get through. I may as well see it out.
At the grandstand, I climb the stairs to the fourth row. I change out of my school shirt and into my footy clothes.
Doug arrives and calls everyone in from the field. We’re the only Patience team left standing in the senior competition, so we’ve got the whole field to ourselves. There is a group of old white men in Patience Dolphins club jackets standing off to the side of the grandstand – probably some past grand final winners who are here to show their support by watching us train.
Harley and Jack arrive with the rest of the boys from the field and take their spots on the grandstand in the front two rows.
‘We’re not doing anything out of the ordinary tonight,’ Doug says. ‘Let’s treat this like any other session. You get out what you put in. Let’s fire up, boys.’
The boys all cheer and then it’s straight into laps around the field. We do seven of them and then run some ball plays. We practise our sets and it’s repetitive and tiring and my shirt is covered in sweat.
We finish off with hill sprints. We line up in three groups and the guys at the front of each line sprint to the top of the hill, past the clubhouse and back down, then the next person goes.
At the end of the session, everyone crowds the water taps by the big light post. There’s a mist lingering on the road outside the grounds.
Just behind me, Jack’s voice shocks me as he calls Harley’s name. I glance over my shoulder to see him sling his arm around Harley’s shoulders.
‘I heard you’re goin’ to the deb with Erin James,’ Jack says. ‘I knew there was something goin’ on with you two.’
‘There’s not,’ Harley says, chuckling.
‘Sure, sure. I’m doin’ it with Ashley and Rodney’s going with Stacey. Harley-boy, your virgin days are numbered.’
Jack jogs past me through the group of scattered walkers, making vroom noises with his arms outstretched like a plane. It’s amazing to me that when that post went up about him and Tegan, Tegan got called a slut and ended up being grounded by her mother, while Jack is imitating a plane and making car noises like an infant. It’s infuriating.
I miss Tegan. I need to fix things with her. She needed me and I wish I could have been there for her.
And Harley’s going to the debutante ball with Erin. Jack thinks there’s something goin’ on with them.
I was wrong. Harley doesn’t like me back. This is exactly what happened with Ben, and I don’t want the same weirdness to come between me and Harley. I want us to still be friends – friends who have movie nights and get chocolate milkshakes together.
Harley appears out of the corner of my eye. I slow my walk until he’s by my side. He’s catching his breath from the hill sprints. The boys in front of us are moving further ahead, walking faster than us.
‘I’m sorry I freaked you out,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘That stupid text I sent you. I misread things and made it weird. I want us to still be friends.’
‘We are friends.’
‘Good. Okay. Good.’
We arrive at the taps where the rest of the boys are getting a drink. There are only two taps, so we have to wait our turn. When Harley goes to drink, I watch him angle his mouth to catch the water. It splashes over his cheek and into his curls.
I feel so wrong about Harley. I fall for guys I can’t have – it’s kind of my thing. I feel like Tom Hanks on that wooden raft on the ocean, watching a ship that could save his life slowly edging further and further away towards the horizon. But if I’m wrong, why did Harley hold my hand? I know that was real.
After training, Doug keeps us all at the grandstand after we’ve changed out of our footy boots. He stands with his hands together at his front, his eyes wandering over our faces.
‘The next time I see you all, we’ll be preparing for a grand final. Rest up, boys, because we are leaving it all on the field on Saturday.’
Everyone erupts into cheers and caws and back-slaps. Harley leaves with Jack.
I start across the field alone, towards the mist clouding town. I’m shivering by the time I turn onto my street. My leg is a little sore, but I’m not limping anymore.
I arrive home to warmth and the sound of the fan heater.
‘How was training, son?’ Dad asks. I realise I’ve got sweat all over my face and my hair is drenched.
‘Good.’
‘Your dinner’s in the fridge.’
‘Thanks.’
I’m straight in the shower, then I change into an oversized shirt and trackpants. I head into the kitchen and get my plate from the fridge. The plate is filled with two rissoles over a bed of mashed potato, all smothered in gravy and onion. I heat it up in the microwave and eat at the dining table. Dad’s on the couch, watching some cop show on TV.
He turns the volume down and I munch through my dinner. The couch squeaks as he shifts in his seat.
‘I won two grand finals with the Patience Dolphins back in the day,’ Dad says.
‘So I’ve heard.’
‘We had a strong team that year. Your Uncle Bryan was our captain. He was the most aggressive footy player who ever put on the boots. He’d even put Latrell Mitchell to shame. The season after, we were undefeated all year. We made the grand final again, shooting for three in a row. We led for most of the game, but we lost by four points in the end. I know what it’s like to win the grand final, and I know what it’s like to lose. You want to be on the winning side, son. You won’t forget the feeling of losing for a long time.’
‘Great encouragement, Dad.’
Dad chuckles to himself and takes a sip from his cup of tea. Yindy climbs out from the shelf at the bottom of the entertainment unit. He struts over to me at the dining table, weaves in between my legs, curling his tail on my calf.
‘I never asked you, Dad,’ I say. ‘How’s work going?’
‘It’s great. I love it.’
‘What do you love about it?’
‘Umm, well, I’m outdoors all day, out in the bush. It’s the dream job I didn’t know I wanted.’
‘That’s good,’ I say. I finish my dinner and I sit for a moment in front of the empty plate.
I eventually take my plate to the sink and rinse it off. I head into my room and climb into bed. I’m exhausted. I could fall asleep right now without a second thought, but there’s something I need to do.
I navigate to the messages on my phone, tap my thumb over Harley’s name. I begin to type a message, saying again how I’m sorry I said I wished I was there when he told me he was taking a bath. I’m sorry I freaked him out with my gayness, and it meant nothing, and it was all a big mistake, actually, because I mistyped.
Suddenly, the three bubbles appear in the bottom corner. Harley is typing something to me.
My phone dings and my heart is racing so fast I am beginning to feel lightheaded.
Harley: You didn’t misread anything.
Electricity rushes through my fingers and it’s time to type.
Me: I didn’t?
Harley: After the grand final, Doug’s having an afterparty at his. You can stay at mine if you want?
Me: Okay, yep! I’ll stay at yours.
Oh my god. Oh my god.