The Challenge That is Tony

by Pedro

I'll Kill 'Em!

Early November, Year Eleven.

"The bastards! I'll kill 'em!"

Donny's outburst echoes around the changing room where we are getting ready for our wrestling match - I've been picked for the team again in spite of usually losing my bouts!

"Kill who?" someone asks — I think it is Bruno. He's a regular member of the team.

"My sisters. Who else?"

Donny has two older sisters. He has this love-hate relationship with them.

I have my back to him. "What have they done now?" I ask over my shoulder.

"Just look!"

I turn towards him. He is pulling a white garment out of his kit bag. "They've swapped my team strip for this abomination." He holds it up for all to see.

It is a white leotard with frilly knickers and a bra printed on it. Definitely not the regulation school issue. Of course there is a chorus of wolf-whistles around the room.

"I can't wear this," Donny moans.

"You'll have to!" comes a voice from behind me. "I don't bring spare leotards to away matches." It's Brussels - Mr Sproat, the games master. He must have come into the changing room to find out what the commotion was about. "You'd probably have to wear it for a home match anyway," he smirks. "I don't think there are any your size left in the kit locker."

Brussels turns on serious mode.

"I came in to tell you to hurry up and get changed. The match starts in five minutes."

There is a frantic scramble as we finish changing out and put on our wrestling shoes.

With a final tug on our leotards to make sure our bits are comfortable, we start to file out into the sports hall. On our way, Donny catches sight of himself in the mirror over one the changing room washbasins.

"Oh, gawd," he wails. "It makes my junk looks even smaller than it is."

I can't deny that I've noticed that tight leotards reveal who the big boys are. I know Donny has, too.

He is next to me, so I whisper in his ear. "Won't stop you perving on everyone else's junk, will it?"

He smiles at the thought — that cat-like grin of fake innocence he does so well.

As we walk out to take our places on the benches where we will wait to be called for our bouts, I look around the hall. There is some seating for spectators and it is pretty much full. Scanning the crowd, I notice two girls clad in black. I take a closer look: yes, they are Donny's sisters in their usual 'goth' attire — although Donny calls it 'mourning'. The question is, have they come to support the team or to revel at Donny's discomfort at wearing the leotard. Probably both. Although there might be a simpler explanation. He's said before that they are always on the lookout for fresh meat!

A second question is how the girls got here? I don't think either has passed their driving test. Someone must have given them a lift.

I decide not to say anything about the girls to Donny in case it makes him even more uptight. Except my discretion is made academic when a black cat appears at our team bench and carefully walks along the row rubbing herself against each team member's legs. Donny and I are on the end and last for the treatment. The cat then jumps up and sits on the bench between us. When it looks Donny up and down and then lets out a mewl that sounds strangely as though it is laughing, I realise it must be Merkin, the school cat. Donny realises it, too.

"How did she get here?" he hisses at me. The cat gives him that 'stupid boy' look she has used on me many times. I find myself scratching her behind her ear when I reply.

"Mrs O'Reilly must have brought her. They've turned up at all our wrestling matches, although this is our first away fixture. Perhaps Merkin thinks herself our team mascot."

"Oh, crap! If the Wicked Witch is here, I bet she's brought my sisters too." Donny looks more miserable than ever.

"Yep! I saw them as we walked in." I tell him not to look for them, it will only upset him more and give them the satisfaction of knowing their presence has got to him.

Before my bout, I am busy studying the other matches to try to psych myself up. Somehow, fussing with the cat seems to help. She moves her attention to Donny when I am called to the mat.

After my bout I feel the need to give the cat another ear scratch to acknowledge her help with my prep. Otherwise, since I actually won, I don't bother with any post-mortem analysis. Instead, I have time to think of other things.

I am half-watching Donny, who is now on the mat, which leads me to ponder why his sisters decided to take the piss by swapping out his leotard. I reach the conclusion that is probably tit-for-tat for something that he has done to them.

When I return to concentrating on Donny's match, I can see that he is definitely fired up and giving his all. It is not long before the ref is holding his arm up as the winner. He doesn't look overjoyed though. He must still be embarrassed by the leotard.

On the other hand, when I look for his sisters among the spectators, they are grinning like the fabled Cheshire Cat.

After all the bouts are finished, Brussels tells us all to go get showered and changed quickly.

"…As it's Friday and you will all be wanting to get home as soon as possible. I'll give my review on the bus."

Donny sits next to me on the bus but before I can ask him why his sisters would have swapped out his kit, Brussels stands up to give his report. He is very pleased as we have all won. A clean sweep. Not what he expected given our relative lack of competition experience and the reputation of the opposing team.

"Donny," he continues. "You were particularly inspired. Their coach told me you had their best wrestler as your opponent. Well done!"

Brussels starts to sit down but then bobs back up.

"Oops, nearly forgot," he adds. "While you were all getting changed, I had a quick word with Mrs O'Reilly. I assume you all realised she was there. She is pleased for you all and said she will bring Merkin again as she seemed to bring you all good luck." There are murmuring throughout the bus at that thought. "So congratulations, everyone, especially you, Donny."

After Mr Sproat finally sits down, I tell Donny that I had noticed he was fired up on the mat and asked him if there was any special reason.

"That twat I was wresting against was winding me up about my leotard, calling me a girly boy and other names. Took the piss after he tried to grope me and didn't find much - I found it really cold in that hall and I could tell it had made me shrink. Didn't you have that problem?"

It was a bit cold in there, so I suppose I had, but before I can answer Donny continues. "Anyway, it really pissed me off, so I just thought that I'd show him. I was much more aggressive than usual."

"It showed," I reply.

"Funny thing, though. I'd already got the impression I would need to be more assertive in order to win. It was while Merkin had me fussing with her before the bout."

Once again I am interrupted before I can ask him about his sisters. It is Bruno handing round our mobiles. Brussels had been warned the changing room was not secure and had told us all to leave them with Mr Morgan who is driving the school minibus today.

"Well done both of you," Bruno says as he hands us our phones. "Not that you looked particularly happy about your win, Donny, when the ref held your hand up. What was that about?"

"You did look a bit embarrassed," I add.

"The ref asked me if I was wearing the leotard for a bet. 'Not likely,' I replied and told him my ruddy sisters had swapped it out. 'Sisters?' he retorted. 'You have my sympathies, mate. I've got just one and that's bad enough.' "

We congratulate Bruno on his own win, then Donny switches on his phone and it pings for a text.

"Bitches," he says when he reads it. Although his tone is not as vehement as before, I can tell it must be from one of his sisters.

"What does it say?" I ask.

He passes me his phone. "Read it for yourself."

Yes, it is from one of the girls: " Maybe you should wear that leotard to win more often! "

I hand Donny his phone back and switch on my own.

There is a text from Mum but, oddly, nothing from Tony. I feel slightly hurt that he hasn't asked how I got on. I ping him a text to say I won.

Mum's message is at least good news. Since she doesn't know what time I will be back from the match, we're having a 'take-away' tonight. I'm to call at the Indian on my way home. I send her a 'thumbs up' emoji and tell her I won my bout. She replies almost immediately.

" As a reward for winning, you can order yourself some extra samosas! "

It's not until I am waiting for my order at the restaurant that I get a text from Tony.

" Couldn't reply b4. I was on the way home. I also wanted to send you the attached. "

The attachment is a picture taken at some point during my wrestling match. How did he get that?

"I'll tell you all about it tomorrow at the cafe," he replies when I ask. "I haven't time now as the rents are taking me to the Italian."

I haven't time either as my order is ready and I'm hungry.

We manage to grab our favourite table at the café the next morning. Simon is back to being his usual cheery self after getting free last month from his abusive boyfriend, Jefferson. I make a play to grapple with him when I tell him I won my bout last night.

"Don't try anything," he says with grin. "Remember, I know how to beat you!"

"Good job you did," comments Tony. "You'd never hear the end of it otherwise."

I think he's joking.

Simon laughs and goes off to get our usual order.

"So how did you get that photo yesterday?" I ask.

"I was there! Didn't you see me?"

I ignore his question and roll my hand, indicating he should say more.

It's his turn to look slightly hurt after he realises that I hadn't seen him. "I wanted to watch your match and support you. I am your boyfriend after all."

That makes me feel guilty as I haven't supported him at many of his tennis matches. My excuse is that I can't get to his away fixtures, but I don't often watch his home games either as they often clash with my athletics matches.

"I asked Brussels if I could travel with you in the minibus," Tony says, continuing his report. "but he said there wasn't room, and he didn't want to set a precedent, either. However, he came back to me later with a suggestion. Mrs O'Reilly had told him she was going and I should ask her."

Before Tony can go on, Simon appears with our drinks. He has also brought a piece of cake.

"Mum, asked me to give you this to try. It's her new carrot cake recipe. I can't think why, but for some reason she thinks she'll get an honest opinion from you two." He is jesting, of course.

"Thank her for us, please," I say to his retreating form.

I snaffle a piece of the cake as Tony returns to his story.

" 'Mr Sproat wants you to take plenty of photos of the meet, if you come with me,' Mrs O'Reilly said when I asked her. However she swore me to secrecy. She didn't want anyone to know that she would be there. So I couldn't tell you."

"Somehow, I think we both know it wouldn't be a good idea to break an oath with her," I comment.

Tony gets my meaning as he seems to shiver at the thought.

"I realised why the secrecy, when I found myself sharing the car with Donny's sisters. I guessed they were cooking up something for Donny and Mrs O was in on it. Even more frightening, I had to sit in the front with Merkin on my lap watching the road all the way there and all the way back. The girls didn't offer to swap either. Worse still, with Mrs O's driving, Merkin held on by digging her claws in on every bend!"

"Ouch!" is all I can say in response to that.

"She did apologise after, though."

I'm not sure if Tony means it was Mrs O'Reilly or the cat apologising.

"Donny told us the leotard swap was their prank. Do you know why his sisters were after him and why Mrs O'Reilly was involved? We knew she must be around because of the cat."

The cake is delicious and I break off another mouthful while I am asking my question. Tony notices.

"Oi! Leave some of the cake for me. I haven't had any yet!"

I look again at the plate. There is only a small piece left. Tony sees me looking and pulls the plate to the other side of the table, out of my range. Curses!

When he is satisfied his sample of cake is safe, he resumes the story.

"They wouldn't tell me at first, but eventually I got it out of them.

"The girls were going to join Mrs O'Reilly and some of her friends for their Samhain celebrations at the end of last month. They wanted some costumes and persuaded Donny to help. Personally, I think they should have known better."

"With the history between them, I would agree."

"What they were after was something Celtic, possibly with a Goth slant. But instead of saying they wanted it for Samhain and being more specific about the design, they just said the costumes were for 31 October. Whether through a misunderstanding or malicious compliance on Donny's behalf, what they got were more appropriate for Halloween."

Malicious compliance is my verdict.

"Given Donny's opinion of their man-eating tendencies, they went to Samhain looking more like Dracula. Mrs O'Reilly and the rest of the coven were not impressed. Especially Mrs O, who was embarrassed because the girls are her protégés."

"Did you say 'coven'?" I query.

"Oops! Did I say that? Nobody described it as such."

"No wonder Donny calls Mrs O'Reilly the Wicked Witch!" I conclude.

Tony does his own bit of malicious compliance by taunting me as he eats the last mouthful of carrot cake.

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