Micah Johnson Goes West (Get Out, #2)(34)

Not all the attention was focused on them, however, as Johnson had his fair share of admirers.

Although most of the team later moved on to other clubs, Johnson ended up staying at Connections and ensuring his dance card was filled for the rest of the evening and into the early hours of the next morning.

Luckily they didn’t have a game scheduled today, or there could have been a number of players absent from the squad! Guessing from their recent haphazard victories and defeats, the coach wouldn’t have been too happy about that.

Anybody have any photographic evidence of the night in question? We’re sure some of you must! Email [email protected] and let us share them!





Chapter 9


WHEN MICAH opened his eyes the next morning he winced at the bright light coming through the open curtains. It wasn’t like him to leave them open. As soon as the sun set down, he usually shut them, having had from birth a paranoia that people would be looking in at him.

That’s when it clicked. He wasn’t at home.

And not even Melbourne home. Or North Beach home. There was no breaking of waves upon the nearby shore or the gentle drone of traffic as surfers, swimmers, and dog walkers made their way to the water. Just a heavy lull of traffic as people headed to the inner city for brunches, coffee, and gossip.

He sat up, and surveyed the unfamiliar room. A Pulp Fiction poster stared back at him. Obvious sign of a first year Arts uni student. An inconsistent snoring made him finally notice the guy in bed next to him.

Jace slept with the same smile he had worn for most of the night, not the wicked grin he had in the toilets when he was going down on Micah.

Or the even more wicked one he had when he got Micah to his room.

Micah almost blushed as memories from the early morning came back to him. Daril was right. Jason had been very energetic.

And very vocal.

Micah wanted to escape before the rest of the house woke up and he had to experience the awkward looks given to the recently shagged nobodies that often traipsed through uni share houses. Jace continued to sleep soundly as Micah rummaged around on the floor, sorting between his and Jace’s clothes. Fuck, their boxers were similar. He hoped he had picked up his own. Funny how you could exchange body fluids but the thought of sharing underwear made you cringe.

Thankfully it looked like Jace would stay comatose. Micah dressed until he looked decent, leaving his shoes until he got out the door. Where the fuck was he, anyway? Not that it mattered; his phone would be able to tell him. What did similarly shamed hook-ups used to do in the past? Just wander around until they found some kind of landmark to give them their bearings? He walked off, not knowing where he was headed but wanting to put some distance between him and Jace’s house. Just in case Jace came looking for him.

As he checked his phone he realised he had missed quite a few calls from Emma, Dec, and even Simon. There were also a number of texts, the last one from Emma saying Please call me. Urgent. He stopped for a moment, dread filling him as he automatically thought of some tragedy befalling his family—some cataclysmic car accident that wiped them all out—but he put his paranoia behind him and called Emma.

She answered immediately. “Where the hell were you?”

“Shower,” he lied, automatically.

“That’s a pretty long fucking shower. And I called Sam. He said you weren’t home.”

Of course she called Sam. Emma would probably have the phone number of everyone who had ever crossed his path. Shit, she probably even had Jace’s by now.

“Well, I’m not. I went for a swim to the beach and had a shower there.” He was sick at how easy making up things came to him. “What’s wrong?”

“I take it you haven’t spoken to Dec?”

“Emma, spit it out!”

“It’s Will… he had a country game last night. The team bus crashed on their way back to Melbourne.”

A sweat broke out on Micah’s brow. “Is… is he okay?”

“He’s pretty badly injured, Micah. Most of the team is okay, a few injured, but Will… he’s the worst.”

“What?” He hated how obtuse she was being, but realised with horror she was actually crying and trying to control it.

“He broke his back.”

“Fuck.” It was all he could say, but it perfectly summed up what he was feeling. “Fuck. Is he—?”

He couldn’t even say the word.

It took a moment for Emma to answer, and even though he knew how hard it was for her, he wanted to reach through the phone and shake her into speaking. “They think he’ll probably walk again, after a long rehabilitation, but he’ll never play football. His career’s done.”

Micah now felt the bile rise in his throat. He could hear Emma yelling his name as he clutched his stomach, bent over, and puked onto the pavement.





Part Two


From the Reach Out, 24 May 2016

Out and About With Jasper Brunswick



ANY LONG-TERM reader of this paper will know that I have written with some regularity about Declan Tyler’s charity, GetOut, which helps queer kids deal with homophobia (among other things) in their chosen sport. Two recent success stories have been Micah Johnson, the first AFL player out from the beginning of his career, and Emma Goldsworthy, who is currently training at the Australian Institute of Sport and hoping for an eventual placement with the Hockeyroos.