DINNER WAS torturous; his parents kept giving him worried looks but he rebuffed any chance of conversation about Will, telling them only that it was looking pretty bad but at least Will was lucid and able to joke a little. He and Emma continued to text each other throughout the night, only causing themselves more misery and ending with plans to meet each other at the hospital again after Micah’s game. Micah also knew Dec was commentating the game tomorrow, and dreaded the thought of probably having to rehash every little thing about Will again.
Sleep didn’t come easy, but he finally did so early in the morning and could have cried when the alarm went off what felt like only moments later.
By the time he was out of the shower he had already missed some messages on his phone—Emma, Dec, Simon, Fran, and Carl all wishing him luck at the game today. He was heartened by the fact that he had that many people who cared about him, but it reminded him of Will in his hospital room—which would seem pretty empty with only his uncle for company. Or maybe he was just talking himself up—Will surely had other friends. His football team must be looking after him. And then there was him and Emma, Simon and Dec, and probably other members of GetOut—he was sure there were other people who cared about Will. But it didn’t seem to matter that much when the one person Will wanted to see wouldn’t turn up.
Even though Micah and Emma were trying to dream up plans about how to help Will, they knew they wouldn’t be able to give Will the one thing he wanted.
Or could they?
“I DON’T know, Micah,” Emma said, when he called her the next morning.
Micah stretched his foot out in the air above his head, his mobile on speaker so he could hear her response, feeling the burn. It was only hours away from the game. He had slept like shit, and caffeine wasn’t helping. He was already doing some stretches in preparation for the match, even though he would be doing them under supervision at the stadium anyway. It never hurt to do a little bit extra.
“All I want to do is try,” Micah said. “At least if we try, we know we did it. It’s better than thinking maybe we could have, and regretting it.”
“I just hope you’re not expecting some big movie moment where he comes to his senses and begs forgiveness for everything he’s done,” Emma said.
“And then some teary reunion? You’re talking to me, remember.”
“I know. I just think it’ll be a waste of time, and you don’t have that right now as you have to be at Etihad in a couple of hours.”
“I can’t concentrate, Em. I’m going stir crazy. I need to do this.”
“And what if it fucks up your zone before the game?” she asked.
“My zone?” He couldn’t help but be amused.
“Yeah, smart arse. Your focus. Whatever. It could really throw you off if it goes badly.”
“My zone is already fucked. It couldn’t get worse.”
She snorted. “Never say never.”
“Aren’t we cynical this morning?”
“I feel like cynicism is earned at the moment.”
She sounded as tired as he did. “I know,” he said. “But maybe this will help.”
“If you say so.” She obviously wasn’t convinced. “I’ll pick you up in fifteen.”
MICAH PACKED his footy gear so Emma could drop him off in town for the game afterwards. She gave a wolf-whistle when she noticed, and he was pleased to see her looking a little more cheerful than she was the day before.
“You’re meant to whistle at me when I’m actually wearing my footy shorts,” he told her, throwing the bag onto the back seat.
“I’ve seen your hairy legs before,” Emma said. “I’m going by memory.”
“Thanks for coming with me,” he said as they drove off.
“No worries. I love lost causes. It’s why—”
“You’re my friend,” Micah finished for her.
“Wow, I’m becoming really obvious.”
“You always were,” he said, fondly.
Thankfully, she laughed.
The rest of the car trip was spent in silence, although not an uncomfortable one. They were both dreading the task that lay ahead. They had no way of knowing how Mr. Deanes would take to them appearing on his doorstep. Micah, especially, as he was the epitome of everything Will’s dad despised—not to mention he would probably think Micah partly responsible for his son’s conversion to the dark side and subsequent estrangement from him.
In all actuality, it was only a few minutes before they reached the Deanes house. Will had only lived on the other side of the same suburb as Micah. Micah had never been to his house, so was surprised at the size of it. With only Will and his dad living in it, it must have been a pretty isolating atmosphere. Even more so now Mr. Deanes was living alone within it.
“Wow,” Emma said. “I feel about a thousand times more nervous now.”
“A million,” Micah breathed.
“Is it wrong to hope he isn’t home?”
“He is,” Micah told her. “Or, at least, he was twenty minutes ago.”
“Do I want to know?”
“I rang his landline. He answered.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I hung up, of course!”
“It’s not going to take much for him to put two and two together, then.” Emma threw open her door. “Oh well. Let’s get this over and done with.”
Micah followed her up the small path leading to the front door. Emma knocked upon it briskly, as if she were a guest invited to a barbecue. Micah hoped they weren’t going to be the ones put upon the grill.
The door opened, and Micah was surprised at the man who appeared behind it. Mr. Deanes seemed to have aged five years in the months since he last saw him. That was probably due to the fact he was unshaven and dressed in clothes for downtime at home, but Micah also suspected there was more to it. He also wasn’t expecting Mr. Deanes to remember him as they had only met for about five minutes, but he had forgotten how visible he had become to the public in the time since.
“What do you want?” Deanes spat.
“I’m Micah—”