Page 37 of Men in Shorts

We’ll always be outnumbered.

Paul, Lorna, and the two rainbow-kilted fans continued to argue tactics, bandying about terms likehigh lineandsweeper-keeper. To Brodie, they might as well have been speaking a foreign language, one he no longer cared to understand.

The sky opened up then, fulfilling its hours-long promise of rain. The spectators at the fence, including Lorna and Paul, returned to their seats, where umbrellas and jackets waited to shield them from the storm.

But Brodie didn’t join them. Instead he pulled up his hood, feeling colder and more alone than ever, and turned for the exit.

* * *

Duncan regretted nothing.Defending Brodie had made him feel more a man than anything he’d ever done. The only thing he rued was missing the satisfaction of McCurdy’s nose giving way beneath his fist.

But he had to apologize for his behavior if he wanted to remain a Warrior. Any moment now, his manager would finish her half-time conference with his teammates, then come over and give him hell for starting that brawl.

“What did Colin say that was so funny?” Fergus asked him as they stood waiting by the corner flag, heads bent against the downpour.

“He said if I’d any balls, I would’ve bitten that defender, Luis Suárez–style.” Duncan chuckled. “Colin also bragged that since I’m to be suspended, he’s certain to win the Warriors scoring title for the season.”

“He’s probably right,” Fergus said, “though not about the biting.” As Charlotte approached, he stepped forward, putting himself between Duncan and their manager.

“Happy, lads? That’s your season finished.” She glared at Fergus from beneath her hood. “Taylor, you’ll likely be banned three matches for violent conduct.”

“I understand,” he said in the strong, steady voice Duncan hadn’t heard in weeks.

“Same for you, Harris,” Charlotte told Duncan. “Three matches for the pushing, perhaps another three for trying to punch him.”

Behind them, people in the stands began shouting louder than ever. Duncan started to turn toward the ruckus.

“Look at me!” Charlotte drew his attention back to her. “You’re lucky your punch missed, or your ban would’ve been eight games.”

“I’m sorry. But he was threatening?—”

“I don’t care!” She brandished her plastic-wrapped clipboard at the pitch. “Have you any idea what your temper might cost us? Warriors could be fined for starting this brawl. You think we’ve hundreds of pounds just lounging about our bank account, when we can barely afford kits for you lot to wear each week?”

Duncan gulped. To say the Woodstoun Warriors were on a shoestring budget was an understatement. Most of the players were poor or working-class, so membership fees were kept low. “I’m sorry,” he said again, this time sincerely. “If there’s a fine, I’ll pay it.” He wondered how many weeks of summer work it would take to cover the amount.

“If we’re lucky,” Charlotte said, “instead of a fine the league will deduct a few of our points in the table.”

“Point deduction?!” Duncan thought his head would explode. “But we’re tied for third. We’ll lose our chance at promotion!”

“Exactly.”

“Fuck.” He dragged his hands up over his face. “It’s not fair. McCurdy should’ve been yellow-carded for the things he said. I can’t believe the refs never heard him.”

She sighed. “I know it’s pure hard dealing with prejudice. I’ve faced it my whole life, homophobiaandsexism. But it’s no excuse for violence. Maybe you’ve noticed, football’s got a wee image problem. ‘A game played by hooligans, for hooligans,’ they say. Every incident like this sets the entire sport back.”

Duncan looked at his feet, a ray of shame burning through his cloud of righteous rage. “You’re right. I should’ve reported McCurdy instead of trying to punch him. But no one likes a whinger. Complaining makes us look weak.”

“Then ignore them,” she said.

“That’s even worse.” Duncan remembered what Brodie had told Geoffrey on the phone. “Our silence gives them more power.”

“This is your puzzle to solve, lad, but I’ll give you a wee hint—violence is not the answer. Not on my team. I may cut you yet.” She started to turn away.

“No, you won’t,” Fergus said quietly.

Charlotte stopped. “Sorry?”

Fergus lifted his head to speak, the rain coursing down his ruddy face. “Warriors have been the walking dead since our last captain left. At least today we’ve got life, thanks to this lad.”

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