When the same player next comes within striking distance, still smirking, I take the spark of fury out on him, striking an upper jut to his jaw.
I’m too big to be sneaky. What Zach could get away with through quick footwork and angled shoulders, leaves me exposed.
“Get off the field,” the team coach yells when the whistle brings me to a halt. “Now,” he adds when I don’t immediately move to comply. I edge in the right direction and his face turns thunderous until I pick up some speed.
I land in front of him. Bristling even though I’m in the wrong. “What’s the matter?”
“You really don’t want to be asking me that question, boy,” he replies, turning his back on me as he whistles for the game to recommence, one of the benched players filling my spot with ease.
“Did the other team steal your girl or something?” Price asks with a shit-eating grin as I take a seat next to him. “You know just because you’re running doesn’t mean coach can’t see when you throw a punch.”
“He deserved it.”
My hands squeeze into fists at the memory, and I loosen them with a wince. The knuckles are still swollen from the fight on Saturday. The damage makes them clumsy, so even when I’m not aiming them at smirking dickheads, I keep knocking them against stuff by accident, reigniting the pain.
I don’t mind it. Each time I feel the ache and burn, it reminds me of the recording now stored on my phone and in three different reservoirs in the cloud. Most of yesterday was spent wandering around the house, annoying the cleaners as I tried to help, sporting a boner.
All that, and I didn’t even get the name of the girl.
“No doubt. Unfortunately, the rules of the game are working against you there.” Price’s attention is completely captured by a pass that goes out of bounds. “Hey, ref. Want to grow some eyes?” He ticks his tongue against his teeth with a disgusted groan as the players resume position, no one being called out.
“Where’s Zach?” I ask, glancing around the remaining players. “I thought he was just running a few minutes late.”
“Probably ducked out of school again. I doubt coach will put him back on the field this season with the number of practices he’s missed.”
I grunt in agreement, feeling annoyed. Caylon and I both moved schools to keep our group together when Zach got expelled, yet again. Now, long months after the terrible business with Robbie brought us closer together, we’re all busting apart.
“Your other buddy’s missing, too,” Price remarks idly, staring around the field. “Couldn’t hack the pace.”
Given everything else Caylon’s got on his mind, ‘the pace’ of this tinpot school rugby team probably doesn’t rank as highly as Price might think.
The game winds on and I don’t get back out there until five minutes shy of the end. Hardly enough time to use my excess energy. When the final whistle goes and we all run to the showers, I still feel as wound up as I did at the start.
“Come in here, Weybourne,” coach says when I try to duck out the back. He waits until I take a seat, then asks, “Is there something going on I should know about?”
I shrug. “I’m just on edge.”
A nice turn of phrase that roughly translates to ‘I’m not sleeping.’ Robbie’s corpse makes a rude appearance, jolting me awake at least once a night. The growing feeling of abandonment from my friends just makes everything seem worse.
“Well, sort it before you’re out in the thick of it, next time. That shot was obviously deliberate. I’ll have to show the recordings to the vice principal. We’ll let you know by end of day tomorrow if you’re still on the team or if that move got you side-lined for the rest of the season.”
The frustration from being off the field for most of the game today is already eating at me, ruining the equanimity playing hard usually gifts me. If I get benched, that frustration will be all day, every day.
The fear comes flooding out as anger. “It was just a fucking accident.”
Coach’s expression barely changes but I know he’s taking note. I clench my hand, so the pain focuses me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. I just got wound up during the game, all right? It won’t happen again.”
“This isn’t the first time, Weybourne. Get your shit together. If the vice clears you to play again, try remembering it’s the entire school reputation on the line.”
I nod, making the right noises, but my internal system is still running at far too high a heat when I walk out of there, heading back to the front of the grounds where my car’s parked.
The idea of this piece of shit school having a reputation is a joke. We’re only here because it’s so low on the decile rankings that a discreet bribe to the right officials got Zach a placement after he’d run through his last chances everywhere else.
Since I’ve attended, not only have I not learned anything new, but I can also feel my grasp on my former education slipping.
Not that I’m trying to be an academic or anything but the option to go on to tertiary education would be a bonus.
This late in the day, there are few pupils still within the boundary fences of McKenzie High School. Those that are lingering around, look like they’re waiting on their slower compatriots. A couple are from the drama department, fitted out with ‘ye olde’ costumes for the Sweeney Todd update they’re staging later in the year.
