22. Victors
22
VICTORS
V .B. didn’t lie. He dropped them off at the training field with plenty of time to spare and extracted himself from his vehicle under the mocking gaze of the American High School of Paris’s bite-size headmaster. Mathias didn’t care for politics and hurried after Eric toward the changing rooms, Zak and Alberto trailing behind them.
“Only players allowed beyond this point, I’m afraid,” a bitter voice said as they were about to go in.
Mathias saw a man standing against the wall in the corner. Dressed in an expensive-looking but ill-fitted suit, he looked so cross and stuck up, he reminded him immediately of Kayvin. Eric heard him and scoffed, but he nonetheless turned to Zak and told him to find himself a good seat outside.
“It’s not good for you to be in the changing rooms anyway,” he said, flashing Mathias a wink.
Inside, Kayvin was as nervous as could be imagined. The last time Colette played against this “rival” school, Eric was too upset over his impossible crush on Zak, and they had lost 2 to 1. Kayvin had never gotten over it. This time, Eric was so confident, Mathias was almost hoping Zak would break his heart again. There was only so much happy he could take at the moment.
The car ride had been hell. Singing stupid songs while driving was one of Mathias’s mother’s favorite things, so the act in itself felt a bit like someone was jabbing at his heart with a knife. But having Alberto so close to him, and flirting—he touched his fucking hand!—was even worse. Already, his anxious apology had been too much to bear. Mathias didn’t want Alberto to run after him, and he definitely didn’t want him to feel sorry. He needed him to be a cold monster right now. He needed him to return to his other lovers, smash whatever was left between them to pieces, and disappear from his life altogether.
Mathias couldn’t wait to get onto the pitch. His blood had turned to lava in his veins. The American High School of Paris’s team was toast.
The sky had turned dark as they were getting ready, but the training field was brightly lit from all sides. The same man was on the pitch when Mathias and the rest of the team trotted out in their white and blue colors. Though he was accompanied by the headmaster of the AHSOP—and its many coaches—he stood out because of the disdainful way he was eyeing the Colette team. Even Kayvin was uncomfortable; blushing up to his ears, he ran straight for the center of the field, followed by his friends. The man then separated from the group and walked up to Eric.
“Been sold to Lyon, haven’t you?”
Eric was busy waving at Zak sitting in the bleachers and gave the man a wary look. “Yes?”
Mathias was about to drag Eric away, but V.B. stomped toward them just as the man turned his attention to him, saying, “And here’s the Rodin kid.” Mathias’s eyebrows jumped up to his hairline. The man squinted at him, disgust plain on his face. “He has his mother’s eyes.”
V.B. let out a booming laugh. “Blaise, I see you’re dying to get your arse kicked again.”
“You wish,” the other retorted. “I donated enough to hire a new coach specifically to destroy your loser team this year.”
“Did you?” V.B.’s eyes lit up. “But again, you always loved wasting money.”
“Let’s go…” Mathias said, pulling Eric away.
“Who’s that guy?” his friend asked, a slight frown on his face. “How does he know your mother?”
“No idea. I don’t know every goddamn asshole in town, Eric.”
Kayvin blew into his whistle, cutting their conversation short. “You two, come here, I need a few words. We can’t afford to lose this game.”
He barked at his teammates for a couple of minutes while glaring at the opposite team. Mathias wasn’t afraid of the AHSOP. They looked like regular seniors who already knew they were about to lose the game. One look at Eric would be enough to convince anyone; he practically had lightning bolts shooting out of his ass.
“How does my butt look today?” he asked when he caught Mathias looking at it.
“What? Ah, sorry. Looks fine, Eric.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Eric lowered his voice, “Zak’s watching, I gotta give him a good show.”
Mathias shuddered to think Alberto was sitting up there too, probably not staring at his ass but worse: at the side of his face. The nightmare continued. And speaking of, Mathias thought of something and, turning to Eric, he asked in an innocent tone, “How come you had that guy’s ID?”
“Who?”
“Alberto.”
Don’t think I didn’t hear your little conversation in the car . Alberto’s outdated ID had not left Mathias’s backpack since he'd found it on the floor of his bedroom during the Christmas holidays and decided it would be safer in his possession than back in Alberto’s hands. And who could blame him? The picture above Alberto’s Neapolitan address showed him at pure girafon stage, too cute to behold—definitely too adorable to be seen by anyone else.
“Oh, that,” Eric said, shrugging. “I found it on the floor in class. No big deal.”
“Which class?”
“You know, I can’t remember.” Eric pointed at the sky. “What do you think? Does it look like rain?”
Mathias reluctantly turned his gaze toward the clouds. “It’s not freezing, at least. It might drizzle, but it should be fine… as long as it doesn’t get worse.”
But as Alberto said once, things could always get worse. Xavier detached himself from Kayvin and went to stick himself to him and Eric again. “So… Elodie likes you, right?” he asked, jumping up and down to warm up.
“Yes…” Mathias said coldly. “Apparently so.”
“And you said no.”
Mathias took a deep breath. “Yep.”
“You don’t like her?”
“It’s not that. I just don’t feel like dating her.”
“But everybody wants to date Elodie.” Xavier scratched the side of his face. “Did you know Kayvin really likes her, but she doesn’t like him?”
“I didn’t know, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“So, what is it about her that you don’t like exactly?”
Mathias’s hands balled into fists. “What the fuck do you want from me?”
“Nothing, I just…” Xavier stood before him looking like an idiot who’d just found out the Earth wasn’t flat after all. “Mathias, do you like girls?”
“Hey!” Eric suddenly jumped right between them. “Rude, Xavier, rude!”
Xavier shrunk back. “I’m sorry for being rude,” he said, causing Eric’s mouth to fall open in shock. “But it’s true. I’ve never seen you look at a girl, no matter how pretty she is. I thought at first it was a secret method to get them obsessed with you. Because it works! Elodie likes you, and she’s not the only one. Melissa, even Camille , everyone calls you hot and mysterious. And Joy said you were the best-looking guy at school—after Alberto, of course.”
“Really?” Eric pouted. “She said that?”
“So what?” Mathias asked, defiant. “What’s your point?”
Xavier’s mouth twisted. “If you don’t like girls… does it mean that?—”
“Shut up right this instant.”
Being asked about his sexuality by a clueless bisaster was getting a bit much for Mathias today, but he was resolved to keep his hands to himself, unless it was to use them to stop the ball. No more punching people, no matter how annoying they were. And no more digging his fingers into Alberto’s flesh—or any other part—anymore. He was done, done, done!
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he said through gritted teeth, “but my love life’s none of your business.”
“Love?” Xavier guffawed. “I’m talking about sex.”
“There’s no difference, asshole!”
Mathias whirled around and saw Alberto staring down at him. Oh no. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t think. Between facing Alberto or Xavier… he’d take Xavier any day. Mathias looked at his watch: the game would start in another minute or two, so at least it would free him from this conversation.
“Mathias, seriously…” Xavier’s face split into an awkward grin. “I wasn’t trying to piss you off. In fact, I’m really impressed! ”
“Why?” Mathias asked, suspicious.
“Because! Mother always says boys our age only think with our…” Xavier lowered his voice. “… penises.”
Mathias shook his head. “Nope. Uh-uh, that’s it!”
“I mean, look at Eric.”
“Hey!” Eric clutched his chest.
“But you… you’d prove her wrong.”
Eric stomped his foot. “Hey!”
“That’s…” Mathias scoffed. “That’s… bullshit.”
He turned his back to the both of them. In truth, he was thinking about his penis right now. He was thinking of how beautiful Alberto was when he barged into the infirmary all disheveled earlier, and he was thinking of his adorable face when he realized he was sitting in a hearse. And although Mathias wasn’t hard right now, he was already thinking of how it would feel to make out with Alberto once they’d won the game, and how aroused he’d be then. Every time he thought too much of Alberto, his penis took over.
So, really, Xavier was wrong, and Mathias wasn’t so special after all. It’s true his penis had never poked its head much before. It was a pretty tame penis, compared to other guys, he could admit it. It took some convincing to get to work, as Daphnée had complained about. But as Alberto said, Mathias’s mother was really sick and then really dead, therefore, there wasn’t much time to think about waving his penis around.
Mathias had truly never worried about his penis before; he had not even questioned the mechanics of his penis at all. He’d had plenty of sex after his mom’s death, plenty of blurry encounters in the dark. And his penis had worked just fine then. Not great, just fine. Adequate performance for what it was: a mindless booze-fueled intercourse. It’s only when Alberto showed up that his penis got a little too enthusiastic, dragging Mathias into this hell he was struggling to get out of.
Mathias suddenly realized he’d been saying penis a lot—enough for a lifetime. He got angrier at Xavier and simply walked off toward his goal, his face hot.
“Boys, girls, have you made your choice?” Alberto had asked once, taunting him. It finally occurred to Mathias that he had never cared about either.
If he really was as he feared, only attracted to long-legged Italians with demonic lips, he’d better give up on dating altogether for the rest of his life. He tried to think about that; he tried to scare himself with such thoughts, but a life without dating didn’t seem scary at all to him. The only things that ever frightened Mathias were cancerous cells. The ones that stole his mom from him and the ones that had grown over his heart and his stomach, the ones he sometimes called Alberto.
Kayvin called everyone to gather around him one last time, saving him from his thoughts. “I can’t stress this enough,” he said, his expression murderous. “We have to win.”
“Okay!” Eric said, squeezing Mathias against him for no reason.
Kayvin gave the two of them a quick look. “If you don’t want to do it for me, then do it for yourselves.”
Eric cocked an eyebrow. “Uh, okay?”
“Eric.” Kayvin jerked his chin toward the rude man in the ill-fitted suit from earlier. “You see that guy? He’s on the board of the AHSOP.”
“Oh?”
“He said your boyfriend was ugly.”
Mathias thought Eric would blow a fuse, but after a moment of confusion, he exploded in laughter instead. “No need to motivate me, Kayvin!” he said, his face glowing. “First, this is clearly a lie! I never pay attention to lies, and neither should you. Second, Zak is in the stands, and Mathias is in the goal. There’s no way we can lose this.”
“Good,” Kayvin said, turning to Mathias, “because he also said Matt’s mother was the worst person he’d ever met.”
Silence fell over the team. Charles-Henry became as white as his socks, and Eric’s arm turned rigid around Mathias’s shoulder.
“Wow…” Mathias murmured, feeling the eyes of his teammates on him. “That guy really did know my mother.” He let out a laugh. “She was the fucking worst.”
Chances were they went to school together, and she beat his ass at some point. Stupid guys didn’t like being beaten by short girls in short skirts. Or at least, that’s what Mathias’s mother had told him.
A loud sigh of relief escaped Xavier’s lips. Kayvin looked at a complete loss, but at least he didn’t add another word and released them to their positions.
“Don’t look up,” Eric said as Mathias set off toward his goalpost.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying don’t look up.” Eric smiled. “Whenever I see Zak’s face up there, I get distracted.”
Mathias frowned. “And why would I be looking at Zak’s face, exactly? ”
“Never mind, never mind,” Eric said, rubbing the back of his head. He pointed at the goal. “Don’t let anything in!”
“I never do,” Mathias grumbled, and he punched his own palm.
Mathias recalled what Alberto told him earlier, how his father had tried to turn him into a good goalkeeper. It was a shame it didn’t work for him, because Mathias was also trained by his parents, and it had worked out well for him. His mother used to ask his father to play the role of a goalkeeper. She would shoot penalties at him, and he would let them through most of the time, causing her to roar in laughter and tell Mathias, “Do the opposite of what your father does, and you’ll do just fine.” Mathias’s father might have looked like a powerless victim at first, but when Mathias asked him if he was okay with all that, he replied, “Have you seen her smile? Of course I’m okay with that! Whenever the one you love asks you for something, you better do your best to give them what they need.” Mathias decided his father wasn’t a bad goalkeeper after all, and after learning from both of his parents, he had become somewhat skilled himself.
Three times, the ball came his way. Not once did it get in.
Xavier might have been an idiot and a damn slut , but he was a great defender. Charles-Henry was a solid midfielder, and Kayvin, for the first time, was being a real team player. As for Eric, he was a dumbass in love, but he was, after all, one of the brightest hopes of his division at the ***.
He scored eight times that day.
Even Mathias was giddy when the referee’s whistle blew to announce the end of the game. Final score: 11–0. Eric was used to accolades and dodged V.B.’s attentions to tear down the pitch toward the changing rooms, bragging Zak would probably reward him for each goal. Mathias didn’t expect the same treatment from anyone, so he took his time after the game. He genially shook every AHSOP player’s hand, comforted their downtrodden goalkeeper, and grinned arrogantly at the man who had known his mother. When Kayvin also walked over, his own hand extended, Mathias shook it, albeit a bit roughly.
“Glad you were a team player today, Rodin,” Kayvin said haughtily.
“I could say the same about you.” Mathias noticed the furious expression of the man in the suit and shook his head. “I don’t know who that guy is, but he really isn’t happy about our score. ”
“He’s my father,” Kayvin said, and he walked off at a fast pace, leaving Mathias momentarily speechless in the middle of the pitch.
When he finally made it back to the changing rooms, Mathias was the last one in. It was V.B.’s fault. That boring old man was too proud to show off Mathias’s skills, and Kayvin’s father looked like he would have loved to punch him—if only that maniac wasn’t so freakishly big. Eric got out just as Mathias was coming in.
“Oh, come on, Matt! Hurry! Zak and I want to celebrate.”
“Then go! Why are you waiting for me? I can get home on my own.”
“I guess…” Eric said. “Will you drive back with Mr Van Bergen?”
“I don’t know…” Mathias hesitated.
“Alberto left already,” Eric said briskly. “Zak said he didn’t even wait for the end of the game.”
A part of Mathias was relieved to hear that, but a small part only. Mathias’s best save had happened only minutes before the end, and Alberto had missed it. Not that it would have changed anything, but… too bad.
When Mathias got out of the showers, the changing rooms were already empty. He’d only gotten around to putting on his underwear when he heard a door squeak open on the side. He jumped to his feet with his sneaker in his hand, ready to blast the first motherfucker daring to pull a prank on him.
But it wasn’t that hack of a headmaster. Instead, it was a scary demon. Alberto slipped out of the storage cupboard he had been hiding in and smacked his lips at Mathias’s appearance, his dry laughter reverberating across the walls.
“You win!” he said, his eyes flashing with arrogance.
There he was, the unfeeling monster Mathias needed to see. He had been hiding here this entire time, waiting for the right moment to hurt him. And he did. The sight of him felt like a punch in the gut. Mathias rushed to him, his fingers curling around his arms. In an instant, Alberto was once again pressed up against a wall, with Mathias glaring at him.
Like old times. Almost .
“Can’t you leave me alone?” Mathias heard the note of despair in his voice and prayed Alberto didn’t interpret it as such. “Please, will you leave me the fuck alone?!” Wanting to scare Alberto away once and for all, he tightened his grip around his arms.
Alberto tilted his head and blinked at him. His eyes were so big, he reminded Mathias of the boy in the pictures, the ones left to gather dust in the basement.
His resolve already falling apart, Mathias gave him a desperate shake. “Aren’t you scared? Aren’t you tired already?”
Alberto slowly shook his head. “I know you won't hurt me. Not really.”
Mathias gave up. His fingers relaxed around Alberto’s arms, and his head fell upon his shoulder. He spoke in a whisper, “Why can’t you leave me alone?”
For a moment, it seemed like Alberto was smelling the top of his head, before he said, “Listen.” His voice was soft, too soft for Mathias. “I have a proposition.”
Mathias took his time before he hesitantly stepped away from him. “What is it?”
“Sleep with me one last time,” Alberto said, holding his gaze. “I want one last round with my best fuck.” His shoulder lifted in a half-shrug. “And I promise, you’ll never hear from me again.”
Mathias’s heart had started beating furiously in his chest. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“You owe me, right?” Alberto said, his eyes flickering. “For that time you pushed me into the trash. You owe me.”
“Didn’t…” Mathias coughed in his fist. Guilt had formed a lump in his throat, choking him. “Didn’t I help you the other night?”
“I didn’t ask for your help that night.” Alberto folded his arms over his chest. “You said you owed me, and I want to collect. Do you accept or not?”
Mathias hung his head. There was truth in Alberto’s words. He owed him for throwing him into the trash, and more: for letting Kayvin humiliate him, for letting his stepfather put his ugly hands on him, for being such a loser, his mother would be ashamed of him if she could see him right now.
“When?” he asked, defeated.