Page 28 of By the Pint

Casey’s broad shoulders flexed as someone threw him a ball. He feigned throwing it one way, but tossed it in the complete opposite direction. Before the other team had even figured out what was happening, a big red ‘goal’ beacon flashed and aURGGHHHGGGnoise sounded.

The other guys in blue shirts were smiling and cheering. One pulled Casey into a hug. But Casey didn’t look happy. In fact, it looked like he was yelling something at a guy from the other team. Eventually he turned to face the camera and pushed his glossy, chestnut, boyband hair away from his forehead. Hemust have been at least a decade younger here. Mid-twenties probably.

“Oh, he is yummy,” Joey said, holding out her hand to me for a low five.

“He’s a massive baby,” Goldie said, still grinning from ear to ear. “He was notorious for throwing tantrums if he didn’t get his way. That’s what finished his career, actually. His temper. Punched his teammate in the face—”

“Oh, that’s the guy!” Joey said, as Holly said, “What a silly thing to do.”

“Live on TV, too. Got banned for life.” Goldie typed something on his phone and the TV changed.

Coloured stripes flashed across the screen along with a stylised news channel logo, though not one I recognised, and a sensationalist voice boomed out. “Why did The Temper attack his own teammate midgame? New footage of the shocking smackdown shows something you wouldn’t believe.”

The screen changed to another wingball court, or possibly the same one as before. It was difficult to tell. And Casey was there, dead centre. My heart started beating in triple time. Was I nervous?

He was talking to a human man wearing a black suit jacket, an official maybe. His hands were on his hips and sweat shone from his beautiful face, neck, and shoulders, but otherwise, Casey looked calm.

The footage paused itself, and the news voice spoke again. “Casey ‘The Temper’ Freckleman might be more famous for his tantrums than his triple take-off shots, but they might just have cost him his career. Is this the moment Freckleman threw everything away?”

The scene unpaused, and though we couldn’t hear what Casey, or the black jacket guy were saying, Casey’s lips clearly formed the words, “Fuck it,” before he turned away from theofficial, and marched out into the middle of the court where his teammate,STORM 55, stood alone. Seemingly out of nowhere, Casey swung his right arm up, smashing it into the centre of Storm’s face. His teammate dropped to the ground, like a sack cut loose from a rope. His hands covered his face, and his legs curled underneath him. The footage paused itself again.

“What the fuck?!” yelled Joey.

“Why did he punch him? I don’t get it,” Holly added.

On the screen, the punch rewound so it happened in reverse, and Casey’s teammate bounced onto his feet. It played again. And again, this time in slow motion. And again, zoomed in on Casey’s bizarrely passive face. Again, from another camera angle. Again, with a close up of his teammate’s face, who weirdly, seemed to brace himself before Casey had reached the centre of the court.

Something about all of it felt off. Like I knew what I was watching actually happened, I’d briefly seen it in Casey’s thoughts, but it didn’t feel … right. My heart sunk into my navel. Was this the real Casey?

“Had The Temper and Storm fought before the playoffs game?” the news voice said. “Eyewitnesses have reported seeing the pair whispering angrily to each other in the locker room only minutes before wing-off. And the two famous wingball stars were spotted fighting outside Freckleman’s suite after the Pitbulls’ game last month. Could it have anything to do with Storm’s DUIs or the recent troubles with his wife?”

“That’s Alex Storm,” Goldie said, lowering the volume of the TV to speak over the news voice. “He still plays for Barracudas. Captain now. Oldest human player in history. He’s alright. He’s no Casey Freckleman, though. Ooh, this is the weird bit.” Goldie turned the volume back up.

It must have been merely seconds since Alex hit the deck, but the camera still focused on Casey. One corner of his mouthtwitched into the briefest smile, and he looked off to the crowd somewhere. Another camera swung to the audience and seemed to focus on an empty seat, before Casey was escorted through one of the athletes’ exits by no fewer than five black-jacketed officials.

The annoying news voice started up again. “Who was Freckleman’s mysterious guest? And why were they suspiciously absent the moment of the takedown?”

“Why did he hit him then?” Holly asked, turning to her fiancé, ignoring the mention of Casey’s companion.

Goldie shrugged. “Nobody really knows. You’ve seen his thoughts, D, what was it?”

“I …” It felt like I’d been smacked in the face by his question. “Didn’t let myself go in that far,” I said, probably too quickly.

Goldie spoke into my head.I might not be able to lie, mate, but I know when you are. You’ll tell me later, yeah?

Sure,I said. Another lie. I wasn’t sure how — or if — I wanted to admitthatseat had actually not been empty all along. In fact, it had been occupied by my ex-blood-brother. Though, I still didn’t know the full reason Casey punched his teammate. I was starting to think maybe I didn’t want to know the full reason.

Maybe I wanted to keep him on this impossible pedestal in my mind.

Goldie turned the TV back to the original game, and a strange pressure eased from my chest. “Shame it cost him so much, ‘cos he was fucking brilliant. So fast, and he always did the thing nobody expected. Like, you think a play is going to go one way, and The Temper would fake the other,” — Goldie snapped his fingers — “and he was gone, other side of the court. Just like that. Fast as fucking lightning.”

“Mmm,” I replied. Of course he was good at sportsing if he could read everyone’s thoughts. Mind-readers were excluded from competitive sports for obvious reasons, but somehow Casey must have found a way to avoid detection. “He’s a telepath.”

“What?!” said Goldie, and all traces of Casey’s brawl with Storm vanished from his thoughts.

“But he’s human,” Joey said. “I didn’t know humans could be telepaths.”

“Me neither.”

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