OUT

Chapter 45

Wednesday, April 8th 2015

In his periphery, a group of lads in the corner of the changing room were sniggering. They were gathered around a phone watching a video. Once or twice, one of them looked up at him, and then quickly back down at the phone.

'Didn't take you for a fairy, Jacko,' one of them eventually said, and the lads around him sniggered again.

Jack, who was tying his shoelaces, looked up, 'what?'

'I said, I didn't take you for a fairy.'

He didn't say anything for a moment, he just met his gaze. One of the lads beside him turned his phone to Jack, and there he was on the screen in full drag centre stage in The George. He didn't move for a second.

How could they have this?

Jack watched the video silently while trying to maintain a calm face, although inside he was screaming. It showed him prancing around the stage awkwardly, lip syncing to 'I'm Still Standing' by Elton John. It was weird seeing himself in the third person in drag, because he didn't recognise himself.

He almost didn't believe it was him. Almost. He wished it wasn't.

Then on stage, he came to a sudden stop. He had stopped mouthing the words, and he stood in the middle as the crowd watched in confusion. He watched as he collapsed to the ground and the video abruptly ended.

A cacophony of sneery laughs echoed across the four concrete walls of the freezing changing room. Those who weren't laughing looked at Jack in confusion, Mark among them. Jack couldn't speak. He was afraid if he did his voice would break and give it away. He simply glared at the phone, now blank, and said nothing.

'Jack, say something,' said Mark, 'fuck them.'

Jack shook his head, quickly packing away his football shorts and cramming them into his gearbag.

'Fairy.'

'Jack,' Mark continued.

'Leave it.'

'Jack.' Mark persisted.

The lad with the phone continued to taunt him, 'queer' and then he broke.

Jack flung the bag in his hand onto the wooden bench, and turned to face the group. The lad with the phone had been smiling, but that faded as Jack leapt on him, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him up against the wall of the changing room, the back of his head echoing loudly against the cold concrete.

'Call me a queer again,' Jack said, 'I dare ya.'

'Is that not you in the video?'

'Call me a queer again.'

'Quee-' he began, but the words had barely left his lips and Jack's fist had risen to meet them. A second later, the pair were brawling on the floor, rolling around with fists swinging wildly as the room erupted into chaos. Half of them were cheering, the other half were trying to pull the pair of them apart.

'Call me a queer again,' Jack roared.

He had knocked the lad onto the floor, where he lay on his back, and Jack lept onto his chest, straddling him as punch after punch connected with yer man's face. He had given the boy a noise bleed, and his own fists were red with blood belonging to the two of them.

'JACK STOP!' roared Mark, pulling Jack free from the lad from behind and dragging him to the other side of the changing room. Jack writhed in his friend's grip, trying to wriggle free as he roared at the lad on the floor, who was being helped to his feet. The screaming had stopped now, and everyone was now trying to separate the two who were pulling towards each other like magnets - magnets with swinging fists. 'Jack, stop,' Mark repeated, 'calm down.'