Omorphi (23 page)

Michael had an idea. Coach O’Malley would probably have his head for acting like this was a professional hockey game, but why not? It was the last time in his life that he’d compete for a high school state championship. “Jake, roll with me!” he called over his shoulder as he led the team in a line along the stands, slapping every outstretched hand he could reach. The crowd went wild and, when Michael reached Christy, he leaned in, kissed Sophia’s cheek, then Christy’s, then moved on.

Jake followed suit without missing a beat and called, “You’re crazy, bro!” through a laugh.

Michael took the one-ten hurdles in 13.79 seconds, leaving his competition in the dust. Three hours after the heat began, Michael was in agony and sweating profusely. His damn diaphragm was killing him. He stumbled and felt like he was going to pass out as he made his way to the water barrel. He reached for the ladle with a shaky hand and poured water over his head in an effort to cool off. The stitch in his side cramped tighter, and he fought not to vomit as pain and nausea assailed him. He held on to the sides of the barrel with both hands and breathed through it, the pain easing only fractionally.

“Sattler, you’re out of the hundred relay!”

Michael pulled his hands from the barrel and looked up. “Why?”

Coach O’Malley eyed Michael’s hand on his diaphragm.

“Aw, come on, no way! I’m fine!”

“The change has already been made.”

“That isn’t fair! I’m still standing!”

“And I want to keep you that way.”

“My dad checked me out, Coach! He said I might have a bruised diaphragm, that’s it! I’m fine!”

“You’re out, Michael, and that’s final.”

“That’s bull!”

Coach O’Malley shot him a warning glance.

“Michael!” Jake yelled.

He turned to find Jake and Stephen headed over to him. “What?”

“I’ll run it for you.”

“No freakin’ way, Jake! You just ran the eight hundred!”

“I’m good for a short run.”

“I can also do double legs, Michael,” Stephen chimed in.

“Oh right! You just ran and won the four hundred! This is bullcrap, Coach! I can run it!”

“How bad would you feel if we lost because you passed out midleg?”

“Awfu—dge!” Michael had about three words mixed in there.

“Santini, you’re in for Sattler. Engel, you’re in for Whitman. Sattler, take your spikes off. You’re done.”

“No way, Coach!”

Jake leaned into him. “Get over it, man. You won everything today. You don’t have to prove anything to anybody, and you’re making an ass out of yourself.”

“Screw you, Jake! Do you know what a disqualification can do to my chances for the USATF meet?”

“You haven’t been disqualified. Coach put us in as alternates after Jason hit you. It’s no big.”

“It’s a freakin’ conspiracy!”

Coach O’Malley stifled a smile and shook his head.

“Go sit. Your record’s fine,” Jake said softly.

Michael pointed at Jake with both forefingers as he walked backward toward the bench. “You’re going to pay, bro. I’m going to tell Sophia every one of your secrets. Even about that time you got your dick stuck you-know-where when you were ten! And you, Coach, I’ll make something up!”

Jake shook his head and walked away with Stephen. Coach O’Malley rolled in soft laughter as he walked away, leaving Michael on the bench.

Benched for the first time in his life, and his boyfriend had to be in the stands. It was humiliating. Dehumanizing. Just plain mean.

Something tickled his lower back, and he jumped and turned. “Chri—Sophia?”

“Hi,” she whispered.

Crap. I so do not need this.
“You’re not supposed to be on the field.”

“Why not? You are only sitting here.”

Her accent was thick, British with a splash of Greek, her voice sultry and rich.

“You’ll get me in trouble.”

“They wouldn’t dare!”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, they would. The meet’s almost over. Go back to your seat.”

“We want to sit with you. You look sad.”

Michael shook his head. “You can’t sit here. You could get me disqualified. Go back to your seat.”

“I will tell them they are wrong! I will fix it!”

Michael marveled at her, half wanting to laugh, half wanting to scream. “Seriously, Sophia, I’ll be in trouble. Go back to your seat.”

She jutted her lower lip and gave him puppy dog eyes. “I don’t like this, but I will do as you say.”

Wow, she could pout with the best of them.
“Thanks.”

She rose and strutted back to her seat. Every camera followed her with its mercurial lens.
Crap
. He was going to hear about this on Monday, if not sooner.

A
ND
sooner it was. Michael stood on the platform with his teammates and accepted their trophy to thunderous applause. When the ceremony ended and the crowd quieted, Sophia’s presence was announced. The crowd erupted again, and the announcer encouraged her to the stage. She hesitated, the announcement clearly a surprise to her. The crowd cheered louder and stomped their feet. Seemingly left with no alternative, she raced across the field like a gazelle and leaped the stairs to the platform. With Michael and Jake’s hands in hers, she raised them in the air. Cameras flashed, the crowd roared, and Christy stood alone on the sidelines.
Totally unacceptable.

Michael held a hand out to Christy and encouraged him to come to the stage. Christy’s jaw dropped, and he shook his head. Michael motioned him forward. Christy took a tentative step, and Michael motioned again. The crowd quieted, and murmurs cascaded the stands as the cameras followed Michael’s outstretched hand. Christy took a few more steps, even more uncertain. Michael motioned yet again and Christy hesitated before he trotted across the field, carefully climbed the stairs to the platform, and jumped into Michael’s arms.

Hell of a way to out myself
, Michael thought, half thrilled, half terrified.

The crowd went wild again. Michael hugged him tightly before setting him on his feet and turning him to face the crowd. Hands clasped in the air, Michael, Christy, Sophia, and Jake stood flanked on either side by the team.

Michael was overjoyed. Ecstatic. Elated. Euphoric. Michael could only imagine what would be in tomorrow’s news.

“O
H
MY
God, Mom, you can’t be in here!” Michael hissed.

“I’m a nurse.”

Michael turned to Coach O’Malley. “This is your fault.”

Coach grinned, not the least bit chagrined. Getting no help from Coach, he turned to Mac. “Dad, get Mom out of here. They’re going to mock me forever.”

“Let me examine you, and we’ll be gone.”

“You already checked me out. And by the way, I’m not five anymore.”

Jake walked up with Stephen in tow. “What’s wrong, Michael?”

“Like you don’t know. What’s wrong with you, Jake? My parents are in the locker room!”

“You almost collapsed on the field. I think they should check you out.”

“Not here! This is humiliating!” Michael turned to everyone in the locker room and yelled. “In case anyone wants to know, my dad’s a doctor, and my mom’s a nurse, and she goes to DEFCON four if I get a hangnail!”

The locker room exploded in whistles and jibes.

“Oh my God. See? See?”

“I’ll wait outside,” Bobbie said in resignation and left the room.

“Thank you.” He turned to Mac. “Dad, what are you doing here?”

Mac simply made a “pull the jersey off” motion with his finger. Michael pulled it over his head at the speed of light. “See? Nothing’s wrong with me.”

Mac glared at Michael, clearly displeased by what he saw, and Michael looked down.
Holy crap
. It looked as if someone had made roadkill out of a cluster of black grapes and a bunch of strawberries on his stomach.

“How much pain are you in?” Mac was serious on the asking, and Michael knew not to make light.

“I wasn’t good on the field. I’m okay now.”

“Can you touch your toes?”

Michael bent and made it less than a third of the way to the floor. “No.”

“You may go to the party this evening, but I want you at the hospital for an MRI first thing tomorrow morning. Jake will watch you tonight. If Jake decides that you aren’t well, your evening will be cut short.”

Michael thought to argue but held back. “What’s wrong, Dad?”

“Your diaphragm could be perforated.”

Michael was incredulous. “From a punch?”

“Possibly. We’ll know more after the MRI.”

“How do I fix it?”

“With surgery.”

His words landed on Michael like a grand piano dropped from the Empire State Building. That would be the end of his scholarship. “I’ll take it easy tonight.”

“Saint Elizabeth’s at 7:00 a.m.”

“Okay.”

“If you have any trouble breathing or eating tonight, I want you to go straight to the hospital. We’ll see you outside.”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Dad. And tell Mom I only half meant what I said.”

M
ICHAEL
cursed Jason as he showered and dressed. The guy had had no friggin’ reason to punch him, much less to punch him twice. He packed his gear without care, slung his duffel over his shoulder, and went in search of Jake. Stephen found him before he found Jake.

“Hey,” Stephen said, putting a hand on Michael’s shoulder.

“Hey. You did great today.”

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your support, and I’m really sorry about your diaphragm.”

Michael forced a smile. Nothing against Stephen, but the last thing he wanted to think about right now was his friggin’ diaphragm. He wanted to grab Jake, find their dates for this evening, and leave. He needed to be with Christy. “No worries, man.”

Stephen dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Can I ask you something?”

Michael guided him to the side of the locker room. “Anything.”

“You’re close friends with Christy, right? Well, obviously you are, or you wouldn’t have hugged him on stage, and I know you’re always lookin’ out for him.”

Like, duh, dude.
Michael nodded.

“Do you know if he’s… like us, if he plays for our team?”

Anything but that
.

D
UDE
, I hugged him on stage. What do you think that means?
Yet, he and Jake were always hugging and no one thought anything of it. In answering Stephen’s question, Michael would be revealed. Though Stephen supposed he was gay, he hadn’t confirmed it, and it would be the first time that he divulged it to anyone other than his parents or Jake… or Christy. He also didn’t know what Christy was ready to reveal. He wished Stephen had simply asked if Christy was gay. “Setting aside for a minute that I don’t answer questions like that for others, you mind if I ask why you want to know?”

“I was thinking of asking him out.”

Jealousy exploded in Michael like an atom bomb and
Mine
filled him like nuclear fallout. He wanted to shout,
Don’t even think about it, dude!
He strained to formulate an intelligible answer in his altered state.
He’s taken,
sounded good. Then he had a horrible thought. What if Christy wasn’t committed to him?
Oh, no way! Do not go down the rabbit hole of doubt!
“He’s taken.”

“Damn. Do you know who he’s seeing?”

What happened to,
“Sorry, man, didn’t mean to get all over your guy?”
“Yeah.”

“Anyone we know?”

Isn’t it obvious?
“Why?”

“Maybe it isn’t long-term between them.”

Now Michael did smile, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “It’s serious.”

Stephen sighed, disappointed. “Thanks, Michael, and thanks again for your confidence in me today.”

“No problem, man. You did great. I’ll see you at the party.”

Michael wanted to scream. He congratulated guys and complimented them as he searched for Jake and couldn’t find him.
Dammit.
He tore out of the locker room and came face-to-face with cameras and a crowd of reporters.
Great
. Now he was on film looking as pissed off as a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest.

Jake came to the rescue. “Smile for the cameras, handsome,” Jake whispered as he one-arm hugged Michael and thanked the crowd.

A camera lens invaded his personal space and someone shoved a microphone at him. “Michael, this is your fourth year leading your team to the state championship. How does that make you feel?”

Michael found his good nature strangled deep inside and dragged it out kicking and screaming. “Fantastic. It’s like nothing you can imagine. Everyone on the team is incredible and gave 110 percent today. We have the… well, the best team in the state!”

“We understand that you’re off to Oxford next year. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

One of the video reporters stuck another microphone in his face. “Who’s going to be your prom date this year, Michael?”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.”
Stock answers are me
.

“Sophie Antoniou is here today. Is she your date this evening?”

“It’s Sophia, not Sophie, and she’s here to see the lucky dog to my left.” Michael punched Jake’s shoulder lightly.

“Who’s lucky enough to be your date this evening, Michael?”

“Sorry, guys. No more questions!” Michael evaded.

“Michael, one last question! We understand that you sustained an injury today. Was it a perforated diaphragm?”

“I did not sustain an injury today. Thanks for everything!”

Jake whisked Michael away from the press.

“Thanks, bro,” Michael whispered.

“No problem. Smooth answer.”

“It’s the truth. I didn’t get hurt today. Where are Christy and Sophia?”

Jake pointed across the commons. “Christy’s with your parents and you see that crowd over there? Sophia is signing autographs.”

“Why is Christy with my parents?”

“People were asking nosey questions. Sophia answered most of them with nonanswers, then started signing autographs, so your parents took over sheltering Christy. You looked pissed off as hell when you came out of the locker room. Something happen?”