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CHAPTER 2:
Keith:
A few days after the barbecue I was in the centre of town, having just finished shopping and was packing my car. It was weird only shopping for food for one. I was still buying and cooking too much and then having to throw things out. I was thinking about getting a dog; then at least the scraps wouldn't be wasted.
This time I'd also been to the furniture shop and had been delighted that the pieces were actually handcrafted by an elderly gent from eastern Europe somewhere. I'd put in an order for quite a lot of furniture there and picked out a couple of pieces to pick up the next day. They were mismatched but rustic and I liked them. And I hoped they'd go alright with the pieces I'd picked out at the local second hand and antique shops. I was still mostly living out of boxes, so I figured any sort of furniture would be good.
I heard someone behind me and I didn't worry about it, since there were plenty of cars parked around. I was surprised to be addressed by my name.
"Keith, isn't it?" I turned around and looked up at a burly guy with a jutting chin and heavy brow. He was overweight and balding and did not look friendly in the slightest. His arms were crossed over his beefy chest and his stance was aggressive. I'd seen him at the barbecue, but we hadn't spoken.
"Yes." I answered, wondering what he was going to say to me. I nervously and surreptitiously, I hoped, wiped my hands on my jeans.
"Saw you playing with the kids at the barbecue." He said. For Christ's sake, I thought. Someone else who thought being gay automatically made you a kiddy-fiddler and a freak and a pervert.
I said nothing. I was not going to give him any more ammunition.
Instead I just gave him a look I hoped was neutral.
Normally I would've ignored him or said something smart, but he was pretty big and mean looking. I judged it better not to.
"Play much soccer?" he asked me.
I blinked. "Used to play a bit." I admitted carefully. "Not for years, though."
He nodded thoughtfully.
"I'm sorry." I said. "I don't know your name." If he was going to hit me, then I wanted a name to give to the police. If not, then I wanted to know who the hell he was anyway.
"Gordon Freeman." He said with a curious nod upwards, and held out his hand. I shook it warily. He had hairy knuckles and forearms. I wondered if that was where his hair had receded to. "PE teacher at the local high school."
"Oh. Right."
"You're good with kids." He said to me. I couldn't explain my jitters any more except by saying that this was definitely not what I'd expected. I felt very much on the back foot here.
"Thanks." I said. I didn't know. I didn't have much to do with them, apart from seeing cousins every now and again at family occasions.
"Ever considered coaching?" he asked then.
"What? No." He actually smirked at my surprise.
"Saw you showing Will a thing or two. We need a coach for the under sixteens and the under twelves and the under nineteens. Interested?"
"I'm not... qualified..." I managed to say. I had never thought about coaching. I'd barely even thought about playing sport again.
"So?" Gordon asked.
"I haven't played for years."
"Yeah. And?" I blinked at him. "Under twelves and nineteens practice after school on Wednesdays, under sixteens after school on Thursdays. They play on Saturday mornings. School has a bus we drive them out on."
"Out where?"
"Wherever we're playing. Not many schools play soccer, you know? Not exactly the national sport. Here's my number. Think about it, yeah?"
I blinked at him without much intention of ever calling him. Gordon nodded and walked away.
I didn't think about it again, until five days later when my doorbell rang and I found five sheepish looking boys on my front step. One or two of them I had a feeling I'd seen at the barbecue, and I guessed they were probably between thirteen and sixteen.
"Hi." I said blankly.
"Mr. Freeman said you might show us some stuff." I blinked at the boy in the front, then noticed the peeling ball under his arm. Now this was underhanded. As if a bunch of kids their age would have come and knocked on my door of their own volition.
I considered saying no and sending them away, but then I thought about Gordon's offer. Maybe this would be a chance to see how I actually did with the kids before I said yes or no.
"Now?" I asked. They nodded. "Yeah, ok." I agreed. I jammed my feet into some old shoes, grabbed my keys and shut the door behind me.
The introduced themselves as we walked down the street towards the main town and headed to the oval. They were pretty friendly, two more shy than the rest. At the park two started having a mock sword fight with a couple of long sticks (and making the obligatory accompanying laser noises) while I chatted to the others.
They laughed when I told them to stop, and they did, which kind of surprised me. I hadn't really expected them to take me seriously. It didn't take long before we'd sorted ourselves out and were playing. It wasn't much, since there were only six of us, but we had fun and I helped them out with a couple of tricks. They wanted to chat as well as play, wanted to know why I'd come to live in a town. I didn't mention my being gay. I wasn't sure how their parents would take that, but one of the shy guys, tall for his age, watched me closely. I had a feeling about him.
An hour or so later they had to go to be home in time for dinner and to get their homework done. The ringleader of the group, Simon, asked if I was going to be their coach. I told them the truth; that I didn't know yet.
They waved goodbye, and I stuck my hands in my pockets and decided to go for a walk into town before I headed home.
There was a noticeboard outside the small municipal library. I quickly found the sheet looking for a soccer coach. It was curled and yellowed and looked like it had been there a good long while. None of the tabs with the details had been ripped off the bottom. Christ, even the flower arranging group had more interest than this.
I grabbed one of the tabs quickly, hoping no one saw me.
I looked up at a shadow and found John standing behind me. His hair and skin shone golden in the late sunlight. I felt a warmth down my back and neck. I felt a thrill seeing his uniform.
He was a cop.
He wasn't looking at me, but at the board.
Shit. He'd seen me take it. I quickly grabbed tabs off a couple more notices, shoved them in my pocket.
When I met his gaze again he seemed quietly amused.
"Settling in alright?" He asked.
"Yeah." I answered with a nod. I was tense all over, for some reason. Jittery. I was not ready for the way he looked at me.
