Chapter Text
“Fucking hell, I’m glad I’m not on a team with that cocksucker.”
“Wonder if the rest of his team knew? Hell, I bet they’re pissed.”
Miles knows exactly what they’re talking about, but Miles is no fool, and even if he had started out that way, a year and a half in South Carolina cured him of it awfully quick, so he asks, “What are you guys talking about?”
“Didn’t you hear? NCAA football’s got itself a card-carrying queer.”
“Butt buddy,” the second guy snorts. “To think we played GT earlier this year. Glad I’m offensive line. Feel bad for our defensive linemen.”
“Nah, I hadn’t heard anything about that,” Miles says. “GT, you said?”
“Yep, the ESPN crew caught it all on video.”
“What was his name again? Something kind of Polish.”
“Well, shit, ESPN, huh?” Miles asks. “That’s just crazy. Tech’s gonna be in the championship game on Saturday, right?”
“I feel sorry for FSU, that’s for damn sure. Wonder if Tech’ll actually play the fag.”
“I guess if he’s a good player, maybe it’s not all that important to ’em at Tech,” Miles says. “They’re all a bunch of nerds anyway, so maybe it don’t bother them as much.”
“Always knew there was something suspect about that place.”
Another one of the wide receivers walks into the room then and walks directly to Miles. “Hey, Brown, didn’t you go to high school with that Karofsky dude from Tech?”
“Karofsky, huh? Well, yeah, he was a year ahead of me,” Miles says, wondering how the hell he can extricate himself from this conversation before it takes an even worse turn.
“You ever realize he was a fudgepacker back then?”
“Well, not like he ever hit on me or anything,” Miles says, with a casual shrug. “Like I said, he was a year ahead of me, had his own circle of people and all that.”
“Didn’t you go get a drink with him and some of his friends after the game in Atlanta, though? Did he take you to a gay bar?”
“Yeah, I went out and had a beer and some pizza with a couple of the guys I know on the team. I think Karofsky might have been there,” Miles says. “No gay bars or nothing. It was that pizza place they all go on about.” Sure, after the pizza and beer, he might’ve dragged Casey and Karofsky to one of the clubs, but that’s irrelevant to this conversation, as far as Miles is concerned.
“Guess we know why they call him Special K.” There’s a bunch of scattered, nasty laughs at that comment.
“Better watch out, Brown, I heard queer is catching.”
“Yeah, well, I’m probably way faster, so I’m not gonna worry too much about that,” Miles says. “Can’t catch it if it can’t catch me, right?”
“Yeah, well, I hope no other queers get ideas from this Karofsky. Fags don’t belong on football teams.”
Miles plasters on his widest grin and says, “Yeah, you got that right.”