Page 10 of After the Siren

Chapter Five

The four weeks of pre-season that followed development camp made Theo miss the period when he and Cunningham had mainly ignored each other. It turned out Cunningham held a grudge. Maybe Theo should have apologised, but that went both ways.

The only thing they’d seen eye-to-eye on was profound relief that camp had come to an end.

Theo really regretted accusing Cunningham of avoiding their room, because of course Cunningham spent the last four days of camp doing the opposite, making it impossible for Theo to study unless he found a quiet spot somewhere else.

The couple of free mornings where Cunningham had gone off to surf had been bliss , even if he had an uncanny ability to spread sand onto everything once he got back .

But Theo had gotten through it, and even in his lower moments he couldn’t think of the camp as a failure.

He’d played well on the wing (he wasn’t going to think about his accuracy in front of goal).

He’d made, if not friends, then friendly acquaintances.

The numbers said he was the best runner on the team, and it was hard to argue with numbers.

He was never going to be stronger than someone like Raze, but he was putting in good work in the gym.

Better work than some other people. Things were going . .. well, they were certainly going.

If he woke up every day with a thrumming pulse of anxiety in his chest, at least it wasn’t stopping him from getting out of bed.

He was deliberately not thinking about the first game of the season, though some malicious part of his brain was running a countdown and whispering, You have to be better, you have to be better .

He’d since met the rest of the coaching staff, including the head coach, Davo.

He wasn’t sure what to make of him yet, but so far he hadn’t said anything either homophobic or racist, so Theo was going to take the win.

The guys seemed like a good bunch. Although there were a few pretty old-school players.

Barry Loin – known as Tenders – had cracked a couple of off-colour jokes during training, and Theo remembered that Bruce Archer – nicknamed Sheds for inexplicable reasons – had posted a couple of unfortunate things on social media in the past. The CEO, Randy Jones, wasn’t known for being a bastion of progressive views either, but Theo doubted they’d ever actually meet.

Jenny, the psychologist Kat had sent him to, was not what he’d expected.

She was a petite woman – maybe 5′2″ to Theo’s 6′4″ – with a razor-sharp black bob, tattoos on the backs of her hands that stretched up her forearms, and an eyebrow piercing.

Her handshake was firm and she smiled with her eyes first. She could have been anywhere between thirty and fifty.

He’d been surprised to find that she sat on the bench at games to keep an eye on things.

He liked her better than the psychologist Priya had dragged him to.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

Maybe it was her directness, the pragmatic way she’d draw her eyebrows together and say, Well, I think we can do something about that .

She didn’t talk to him like she was his mum or a primary-school teacher.

He’d spent every spare moment in their first session staring at her lanyard, which was in the colours of the pansexual flag, and wondering if he should tell her he was queer.

He hadn’t.

It was a stinking hot Tuesday morning – just on the borderline of weather that would have had them doing something inside – and he could feel the sweat trickling down the back of his neck.

They were running game-simulation exercises and Cunningham was taking every opportunity to get up in Theo’s space.

As per usual. It had taken Theo a few days after camp to realise that Cunningham had made it his personal mission to piss Theo off as much as possible during training.

The coaches liked to pit the two of them against one another in drills, which just gave Cunningham plenty of opportunities to be a pest. His primary skill.

It was petty, and pathetic, and Theo was not going to let it get to him.

The next time they tussled for the ball, it spilled free.

Theo went to scoop it off the ground, but Cunningham was there, blocking Theo with his body.

Cunningham was smaller, and not as strong, but his positioning was ridiculously good.

Cunningham emerged victorious and got the handball off to Raze, who was running past.

They reset to start the drill again, and Theo jostled Cunningham for position. A little harder than he would have if it had been someone else. Cunningham just turned and winked at him.

Theo exhaled, ignoring it, and reminded himself that he just needed to get through the next hour and then he would be inside in the air conditioning.

Except then he gave away two frees for high contact against Cunningham in quick succession – both tackles perfectly legal until Cunningham bent his knees.

The second time, after he got the kick off, Cunningham turned to Theo and grinned.

He was making Theo look like an idiot. He was enjoying making Theo look like an idiot.

‘Your mum get on her knees that easy?’ Theo snapped. He never sledged much, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know how to.

He expected Cunningham to bark right back, but instead he grabbed two handfuls of Theo’s jumper and shoved him. Theo grabbed Cunningham’s jumper right back. It felt good to get a rise out of him. To see that fucking smile drop off his face.

‘The fuck is your problem?’ Cunningham’s voice was loud, and in his peripheral vision Theo saw Xen’s head snap around.

‘You know what my problem is.’ This close, Theo had to look down to glare at Cunningham. Cunningham was looking right back up at him, blue eyes narrowed.

Cunningham shoved him again. ‘Fuck you.’

‘You wish.’

Theo’s better judgement tried to regain control. He didn’t do this. He’d never picked a fight with an opposition player in a game, let alone a teammate during training. He wasn’t that sort of person. The problem was, he did have a temper, it just had a high ignition point.

Cunningham’s gaze flicked to both sides. ‘Don’t,’ he said, his voice softer.

‘Like I would,’ Theo said, matching his tone and tugging him in closer. Cunningham resisted, but Theo was too strong for him. Theo was breathing hard enough to stir Cunningham’s ridiculous floppy hair where it was falling into his face. ‘Worried you wouldn’t be everyone’s favourite if they knew?’

He needed to stop talking. He needed to stop talking before he said something he couldn’t take back. But he was sick of Jake Cunningham, and his smug smile, and the way he made everything look so easy .

‘Like you can fucking talk.’ Cunningham tried to break Theo’s grip again, but Theo wouldn’t let him.

‘Everyone who likes you doesn’t even really know you. Reckon you’d still be a star if they did?’

Something shifted in Cunningham’s face, and Theo realised he was about to get punched.

He probably deserved it.

Jake hadn’t meant to do it. He’d been getting shit on the field about all sorts of things for years: his parents, his performances, his hair.

Getting called names that were accurate, even if guys didn’t know it.

It usually slid right off. When you heard it day in, day out, it lost the sting.

He should have laughed it off. Some dumb shit about his mum, nothing to see here.

He might have shaken that one off, after a couple of seconds – even knowing the phone in his locker probably had unread messages about her oncology appointments.

But of course Bestavros knew right where to land one, because of the one thing they had in common.

Jake didn’t realise he’d pulled one hand back, fist clenched, until someone grabbed it.

‘Jaze, stop it,’ Xen panted into his ear. He raised his voice. ‘Stavs, let go. Step back.’

‘Cut it the fuck out.’ Raze shouldered his way between them, forcing them apart. Xen wrapped an arm around Jake and pulled him backwards.

‘Both of you, enough,’ Yelks said in his captain voice, cool and authoritative.

He had Bestavros by the arm. He hadn’t been anywhere near them when the scuffle broke out, but he had a captain’s nose for trouble and impressive closing speed for someone his age.

He looked between them. ‘What’s this about? ’

Fuck. Jake had nearly punched his teammate. ‘ Difference of opinion,’ Jake ground out.

‘Difference of opinion,’ Bestavros agreed.

Davo was stalking towards them from the goal square. He was going to blow a fucking gasket.

‘You can let go of me,’ Jake told Xen. Xen did.

Bestavros met Jake’s eyes for a second, then looked away. He looked like he might be sick.

‘What is going on here?’ Davo asked. He’d been red in the face all session from the heat, but he’d gotten much, much redder. Kat was standing back, her face unreadable, with the two assistant coaches. ‘Well?’ Davo insisted.

Jake had been with the Falcons long enough to know that the gentle tone indicated an imminent explosion.

‘Difference of opinion,’ Yelks said. ‘I’ll deal with it.’

Yelks took interpersonal stuff very seriously. Jake and Bestavros were probably going to get sat down in a room together and made to talk it out.

Hell fucking no to that.

‘Right,’ Davo said. He looked around at the group that had assembled around them. ‘You being paid to stand around?’

The players began to disperse and Davo turned back to Jake and Bestavros. Jake braced for impact.