Micah Johnson Goes West (Get Out, #2)(18)

Alex was obviously on a roll.

“Can I go back to bed now?” Micah asked.

“Sure.” Alex took his pen back and stared at the poster. “Misha Jamsock.”

He was giggling again as Micah shut the door behind him.





Chapter 6


MICAH COULDN’T help but stare, openmouthed, as he took in the expanse of the MCG from what was practically a worms’ eye view. Even in all the times he had been a spectator, he had never been close to the ground. Now he was out in the middle of the field, and all he wanted to do was lie on his back, his arms spread out, feeling the grass between his fingers.

“So how does it feel to be home?” Sam asked, biting back a smile at Micah’s awe-struck appearance.

“Like the prodigal son.”

“Heads up!” Daril kicked a ball towards him, and Micah had to dive to catch it. “Pay attention, Johnson!”

“Give him a break,” Sam said. “He’s happy.”

“I want to eat my weight in pineapple donuts,” Micah said, punting the football towards him.

“They are pretty good,” Sam admitted, “but it would seriously hamper your career if you did that.”

“They’re so good I might just risk it.”

Sam laughed. “I feel that way about Tim Tams. That’s why I can only have them in the house occasionally. And if Maia needs a fix she goes out and buys the individual packs and eats them in the car. I can smell them on her breath when she gets home, though. It drives me crazy.”

Micah had a vision of Sam ravenously attacking Maia and sucking her breath out of her mouth to try and get any remnants of Tim Tams left there. It was a disturbing thought.

“Can we stop talking about food?” Daril moaned. “I just want some barbecue Samboys now.”

Talking about off-limit foods always did this to them, and they would start acting like they were stranded on a desert island and dreaming about foods they could eat again when they returned to civilisation (or, in their world, on the off season when they could indulge a little more).

“I’ll make a deal with you, Micah,” Sam said.

“Yeah, what?”

“If we win this weekend, I will buy you, and let you eat, a pineapple donut.”

“You’re on.”

“And if you kick a goal, I’ll give you two.”

“What if he kicks two goals?” Daril asked.

“I’ll find him a boyfriend.”

“I’d rather have the donut,” Micah said, in the face of their gentle laughter.

He wasn’t going to tell them he was already trying to remedy the boyfriend situation.




JUST AS he got back to his parents’, his mobile buzzed.

Home again. So good to see Melbourne. Kyle’s overuse of emoticons was hilarious, and on a par with a twelve year-old’s.

I had that feeling too when I got off the plane.

Like you don’t want to go back?

Micah sighed to himself. You know it.

Sometimes I wish I could just go back to last year, when everything was good and nothing had changed.

Micah’s heart began beating way too fast. Was Kyle hinting at more? Micah could list a thousand reasons why they couldn’t, and he didn’t even know how they could make it work, but he would be lying to himself if he denied he wouldn’t get back with Kyle in a shot. I wish that too.

Maybe he had pushed it too far. Kyle didn’t respond again that night.




MICAH BARELY got any sleep, stressing about the text he had sent and had obviously not been received very well, but as he was eating breakfast the next morning he got a response.

Sorry. After seeing the olds and having dinner I crashed like the dead. Good luck today. Speak soon.

As it was obviously Kyle’s preferred choice of communication, Micah sent him the dancing girl emoticon. He knew it made no sense, but let out a loud guffaw as Kyle texted back the face that was crying with laughter.

His mum gave him a strange look across the table, but didn’t ask for information. He was starting to think she knew. Or at least knew something was happening. To escape any upcoming interrogation he bolted down the rest of his Weet-Bix and ran out the door.




HE MET up with the rest of the boys at their hotel, and partook in a second breakfast as Weet-Bix alone just wasn’t cutting it anymore. The amount of training and calories he burnt meant he was eating more and craving more. Under the watchful eyes of their coaches and nutritionists, however, the boys were sensible and stuck to wholegrain toast and eggs rather than the drool-inducing Belgian waffles that were being spooned onto the grill by the chef right near their table. Micah fantasised about a plate of them, heaped with strawberries and Devon cream. The cream was beginning to melt and spill over the sides of the waffles, creating a scrumptious pool for them to drown in….

“You okay?” Daril asked, poking aside the mountain of scrambled eggs that were obscuring his toast.

“What?” Micah snapped out of his reverie. Was he actually becoming horny for food?

“You looked like you were far away. Fantasising about a crush, obviously.”

“Piss off.”

“Come on, who is it?”

“It’s not.”

“Is it one of us?” Daril looked devilish with glee. “It is!”