My Private Pectus by Shane Thamm Read Free Book Online

voices, now.
    â€˜Heavier,’ Dad says.
    I push against Cuppas’ weight then collapse. My cheek cracks against the concrete. I cough and spit. Water seeps between my lips.
    â€˜Next time I see one of you try anything like this it will be two hundred,’ Dad says.
    The guys look at their feet.
    â€˜What's going on, Brian?’
    I get to my elbows. It's Maloney.
    Dad waves his hands about as he explains the scene and how I was laying into Cuppas.
    â€˜I can't believe it,’ Maloney says and tries to give everyone a stern look. ‘This will go to Mr Hassold,’ he says, referring to the school principal.
    Dad scoffs. ‘No need,’ he says, half grinning. ‘I've sorted it out, haven't I, boys?’ which is followed by grunts of agreement.
    Backing away to the exit, Maloney says, ‘We need to talk for a moment, Brian.’
    â€˜Shoot,’ Dad says, hands on hips.
    â€˜Outside.’
    Dad looks slowly at the whole team before following Maloney out of the toilets.
    Then, as I get up to my feet, Gez walks in. He pauses, looks around. ‘What happened to you?’ he asks as I wipe mud off my cheek.
    â€˜Nothing. Where were you?’ I ask. He's still wearing his footy gear.
    â€˜Left my bag on the other side of the oval. It's satched,’ he says and dumps it on the concrete. ‘And what about him?’ he asks, pointing to Cuppas, who's gently touching his stomach. He's got welts all over like hives.
    Some of the boys start gathering around him again. The P even picks up the towel. Cuppas cowers, arms over his face. Then he bursts into a full-on bawl. He ploughs his way through the group, runs to the cubicles, slams the door and yells, ‘Stuff youse all!’
    â€˜What's going on?’ Gez asks as Steve, on the aluminium seat, peers over the cubicle wall.
    â€˜Hey, Cuppas,’ he says. ‘I can see you.’ Cuppas’ shirt flies out and wraps around his face. It falls to the floor, where The P picks it up and takes it to the urinal.
    â€˜Give it back,’ Gez yells. He stands with authority, his hand held out.
    And with that I can feel everything change. Gez has the floor. And as if sensing this, The P shifts his attention from the urinal and back to Gez. But then The P grins and lets go.
    There're hoots of laughter and cries of disgust. Steve races over, but before he can pull down his fly, Gez hurls him against the wall. Gez picks up the shirt and carries it, dripping, to the basin, where I join him and turn on the tap.
    The P is the only one still laughing.
    Greg, one of the smaller guys on the team, says, ‘Now what? You're not gonna put your hands in there and wring it out are you?’
    Leaving the tap on, Gez goes to the seat where Cuppas left his stuff, grabs his filthy wet jersey and passes it over the cubicle wall.
    It's dead silent in there.
    â€˜You're a moron,’ I say to The P.
    He hits his chest. ‘You wanna say that again?’
    But I feel awful and pathetic. I turn away. He laughs.
    I follow Gez outside. Through the rain I see Dad at the sports shed, arms crossed, still talking to Maloney. One of the boys comes out and says, ‘Good on ya, Gez.’
    Gez looks back. Cuppas wanders out, head down. He's wearing his filthy jersey, gulping back sobs. I can't look at him.
    Seeing Dad walking to the car, I say to Gez, ‘We better go.’ We're supposed to give him a ride home. As we walk across the oval Gez stops and says, ‘Thanks, Sticks.’
    â€˜What for?’
    â€˜For helping out.’
    I shake my head, confused, but then I realise he still has no idea of the part I played. ‘That's okay,’ I tell him. The car lights flash and there's a long toot of the horn. ‘C'mon, let's go.’
    But he doesn't move. He's watching Cuppas who's walking away, pulling at the bottom of his jersey. ‘I'll walk,’ Gez says. ‘See you tomorrow.’
    â€˜You sure?’
    â€˜Yeah.