Right before dropping him off at baseball practice the following morning, Valerie informed him that she'd pick him up an hour later than yesterday, because Coach wanted to impart some 'personal, one-on-one training' to 'the best student in his class'. Matt was aghast to hear this. He slammed the car door behind him, stormed into the stadium and flung his kit furiously on the ground, hoping something inside it broke.
That day's training was about as uneventful as the previous one's - Matt took a few swings with the bat, and hit home runs. The other kids' pitching was so pathetic that he waited an eternity before the ball reached him, and when it was his turn to pitch they struck out every time. Then he ended up sitting in the bleachers by himself like last time, dangling his legs and staring at the sky, occasionally watching Coach painstakingly demonstrate how to swing the bat without dropping it. When the sun was high in the sky and the boredom unbearable, he withdrew the Famous Five book he'd smuggled into his kit that morning and began to read.
At last Matt heard the voices from the ground's entrance, and his heart jumped for joy. Then he remembered that he was condemned to another hour here alone with Coach Wilson. Why, oh why? He watched gloomily as parents filed in, talked to Coach, retrieved their wards, received an update on their child's lack of progress and left. Finally it was just the two of them left alone in the stadium. Coach collapsed beside him, and took a long drink of Gatordate.
"Looks like it's just us now, Mattie." His t-shirt was damp and forearms shone brightly with perspiration; they were curiously hairless and feminine. "You want some?"
"Sure," Matt said, mollified, taking a sip from the bottle handed to him. It tasted like orange soda.
"Do we really have to train again? I'm really tired," he fibbed, passing the bottle back, cold condensation dripped from his fingers.
Coach stroked his smooth chin thoughtfully.
"Well, I don't want to wear you out," he said, then sat up straight, face shining with excitement. "I have an idea, why don't we go get some ice-cream? There's a really nice little parlor I used to visit as a kid, it's not too far from here. We could grab a cone and get back here in time for your mom to pick you up."
"Oh that sounds awesome!" Thrilled, Matt clapped his hands together. Maybe training wouldn't be so bad after all.
"That's my boy." Coach ruffled Matt's hair, a furtive smile on his too-pink lips. His fingers lingered a moment, stroking Matt's ear and neck before drawing away. "Hop in my car, let's get going."
***
The ice-cream place was packed. Tables overflowed with ecstatic, hyperactive children and harassed-looking parents.
"I haven't been here in years," Coach mused, after retrieving a menu with some difficulty from the crowded counter. "Barely anyone knew about this place back then, but I'm glad it got the popularity it deserved."
He studied the dessert list, and Matt craned his neck around Coach's elbow for a glimpse of it too.
"Oh, they still have it!" Coach snapped the menu shut, beaming delightedly. "It's called a butter-berry-fudge cone, and it's… well, you're going to have to taste it to believe it. Take my word for it Mattie, I'm getting you one too. Why don't you go wait in my car? There's no room to breathe in here."
So Matt shuffled off to Coach's red pickup parked across the street, quite irritated with how adults were constantly bossing over his meals. The ice-creams the other kids were eating looked heavenly; he would've liked to choose for himself, but his mother would never allow him to come back here. In a few minutes Coach reappeared and gingerly reached through the window, handing Matt a large cone. It was topped precariously with two massive scoops of ice-cream, chocolate sauce, whipped cream, sprinkles and a cherry. Then he hopped into the driver's seat holding an identical cone, grinning exactly like a nine-year-old. "Go ahead, tell me how you like it."
Matt had to admit Coach had good taste. The flavor was a mix of butterscotch and chocolate, blended with a filling of fudge brownie and assorted berries - he recognized crushed raspberries, blueberries and strawberries.
"This is amazing, Coach. We should come back here everyday."
Coach gazed at him intently, still wearing the same smirk. His own ice-cream sat untouched, dripping slowly onto his pants.
"Aren't you gonna eat, Coach?" Matt asked unintelligibly, crunching his way to the bottom of the cone.
"Sure I am. I like watching you eat."
He took a few licks while Matt chomped down on the last wafer, face and hands a mess of chocolate. Then Coach started to laugh.
"Mattie, you've made a real mess. Why don't you let me clean you up?"
He reached for Matt's hand and brought it to his mouth. Before Matt could react, a large wet tongue was sliding over his fingers. Coach's eyes were closed. "Oh man, that's delicious."
"You have your whole cone left," Matt pointed out, squirming slightly, but he didn't pull his hand away.
"Oh that's right. You want some?" Coach dangled his nearly full cone under Matt's nose. The ice-cream was gooey, half-melted; little bubbles of saliva had mixed with the froth. It looked wholly unappetizing, but Matt shut his eyes and remembered how good it tasted. He tried to take the cone from Coach, but his big hand tightened over it.
"No, I'll hold it, you just lick it up."
He kept a firm grip over Matt's other hand; while Matt slurped his way through the remaining dessert, Coach continued sucking wetly on his fingers. Matt thought of Michael, and how nonchalantly he had once licked tiramisu off his skin; that was obviously normal since grown-ups did it too. Coach was breathing heavily and studying Matt with narrowed eyes, saying things like, "oh God Mattie, that's right. Just keep licking. Oh that's so good. Oh god."
Weird dude, Matt thought, but he was grateful for the extra treat and for the freedom from his mother's lunatic dietary clutches. He chewed the cone all the way to end, then accidentally chomped on Coach's finger. Coach's entire body shuddered like he'd been electrocuted, and his eyes closed again. His forehead was dewy with sweat, blonde hair plastered patchily about his skin.
"Sorry," Matt said quickly. "Didn't mean to bite." Well, if you'd just let me hold the cone myself…
"Oh believe me honey, that's not a problem." Coach grinned widely, his sky-blue eyes stark and staring. "Look at the mess you made all over my hands! It's your turn to help me clean up now."
Matt didn't have time to protest. One long, slender finger was shoved in his mouth, then another; then Matt found himself sucking on four of them, while the thumb caressed his chin. He tried not to gag, for the fingers were halfway down his throat and kept squeezing his tongue. Matt's mouth filled with a strange taste of salt and sweet, sweat and skin. "Lick them, Mattie, go on now."
So Matt navigated his tongue as best as he could between the pale, hairless fingers. Coach dropped back against the window, his eyes rolling backward in his head.
"Are you okay-" Matt tried to say. His words were unintelligible, but Coach moaned, "oh I'm better than okay, oh keep going, oh you sweet beautiful boy… just keep licking those fingers… oh god that little tongue of yours..."
Coach's body began to convulse sharply as he took short gasping breaths. Then finally, finally he relented and withdrew himself.
"Here's some tissues."
He opened the glove box and tossed a wad of them onto Matt's lap. Why couldn't we have used these in the first place? Matt thought, annoyed, wiping his fingers clean. They were still gooey and covered with spit from Coach's mouth.
"This is gonna be our little secret isn't it, Mattie? You aren't gonna tell your parents, or anyone else about this are ya?" Coach winked at him conspiratorially as he turned the key in the ignition. "They might not like me taking you out for ice-cream so close to lunch… we wouldn't want to stop doing this ever, would we?"
"Sure, I won't tell," Matt fibbed, feeling grateful for the first time for his mother's obsessive diet rules. God, was she going to be pissed to know about all that ice-cream! He'd never have to come back to baseball training again.
***
"Where do you want to have lunch today, sweetie?"
This was the moment he'd been waiting for. Triumphantly Matt said, "I'm not hungry, I already had ice-cream. Two. Ice-creams."
The car purred down the street, Julio whistling out of the open window. Valerie frowned. Her knees looked like knobbly white sticks sticking out of her short beige skirt.
"What are you talking about? Where did you get ice-cream? You're supposed to have been at training all morning."
"Coach took me out for ice-cream after all the other kids left," Matt told her happily.
Valerie raised her eyebrows.
"He drove me to a really cool place, got me a great cone. And he let me finish his as well. Of course, his fingers tasted yucky, but it was worth it."
Her body stiffened. Suddenly Matt felt her long plastic nails digging into his skin like talons.
"What do you mean, his fingers tasted yucky?" she hissed.
Matt glanced up at her, surprised to see her usually calm, fawn-coloured eyes flashing with anger.
"Oh, I had to lick his fingers after I was done with his ice-cream," he explained dismissively. "And he licked mine too, that was kinda gross. I gotta take a shower soon."
"Pull over, Julio."
Julio obligingly turned into a supermarket parking lot and stopped the car, glancing at them uneasily from the rearview mirror.
"Is everything alright madam?" he said in English, his brows furrowed. They normally only conversed in Spanish.
"Matt." Valerie ignored Julio and slid across the seat, taking his face in her cold, emaciated hands. "I need to tell you to tell me everything that happened today. Don't skip a single detail. Not one, alright? Go."
So Matt haltingly recounted what had happened between him and Coach WiIson after the other children had left training. Valerie's grip on his arm grew harder, and her lips stretched into a tight, thin line. Julio turned around from the driver's seat and listened too, his jaw clenched.
There was silence after he finished. "You're hurting me, Mom."
And then Valerie abruptly burst into hysterical tears and yanked Matt onto her lap. He tried to wriggle out of her grasp, but she was surprisingly strong for someone so skinny.
"Oh that dirty sonofabitch - fucking pervert - touched my baby - I'll kill him - I'll kill him-" she began drawing great heaving breaths. "Paper bag," she rasped, clawing at Julio's shoulder, who immediately shoved a brown one into her hand, as if he'd had it ready all along. She began puffing into it, still clutching Matt tightly against her body.
"Madam, you need to calm down." Julio's voice was flat, but his dark eyes glittered. Matt shrank back, shocked - he had never seen his good-natured friend look so dangerous.
"How can I calm down after that fucking pedo abused my child?" she shrieked; her voice rang shrilly in Matt's ears.
So licking other people's fingers wasn't normal, then. For a second Matt wondered whether he should tell her about the time Michael did it, but somehow instinctively knew it wasn't the same thing.
"Just tell me his full name," Julio continued in the same calm, frightening voice. "I know some people, we'll find out his address." He clenched his teeth. "I'll rip that motherfucker limb from limb. Then I'll cut out his eyes, fingers and testicles, and feed them to him."
He smiled grimly, then noticed the color drain from Matt's face.
"I'm only joking, Mattie," Julio added quickly, then shot Valerie a loaded glance to let her know he wasn't.
"No Julio! You'd just get in trouble." Valerie's voice was muffled by the paperbag. "I can take care of that dirty pedo, don't worry."
She resumed weeping, tears streaming down her cheeks, but this time her body was racked with sobs so helpless and pathetic that Matt wrapped his arms around her gaunt waist and hugged her tightly.
"It's okay, Mom," he said, distressed. "I'm really fine."
That only made her cry harder.
"It's - it's my fault -" she cried.
Julio, no longer whistling started the car and navigated his way back to the street. The hapless mother and son in the backseat didn't even notice they were moving again.
"How is it your fault, Mom?" Matt asked anxiously. "You couldn't have known - I didn't stop him either - if anything it was my fault-"
"It WASN'T your fault," both Valerie and Julio snapped at him.
Matt swallowed. "Well, then it's not yours either."
Valerie shook her head. Her makeup continued to run with the tears; her face was blotched and miserable.
"I should've listened to you," she wept. "You said you didn't want to play, and I forced you to go back to that sick pedo coach… I was so focused on losing weight to look more like those anorexic college students Sam likes…and I forced you to play baseball just to get his attention… I just wasn't paying enough attention to you… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… this is my fault… please forgive me…" she couldn't get out any more words after that.
Matt gazed wretchedly out of the window at passing cars, his hair damp with the tears that trickled from Valerie's cheeks.
"It wasn't your fault," he kept saying over and over, feeling useless.
Soon the car stopped; they appeared to be in a drive-through.
"Where are we, Julio?" Matt asked, confused.
"MacDonald's," Julio replied shortly. "You need a Happy Meal."
Matt's heart leapt. That was exactly what he needed, trust Julio to know that. He felt a surge of affection for the Venezuelan, his brother-in-arms glowering in the driver's seat. He glanced warily at his mother, but to his great surprise, Valerie didn't argue. Instead she reached into her purse and drew out a card.
"Here. Get him the Happy Meal. And get me the biggest, cheesiest beef burger they've got, double patty obviously. Extra large fries. And a large coke too. Extra large. The biggest goddamn size of everything. I'm fucking starving."
While Julio was ordering their delightful meal, Matt turned timidly to his mother.
"Mom, what's going to happen to Coach? And to my baseball training?"
"You'll never have to go back there," Valerie answered tiredly, her voice barely above a whisper. She smoothed down his hair, and Matt felt the brush of her soft, papery lips against his forehead. "In fact, you'll never have to do anything you don't want to ever again. And as for that sick sonofabitch, he's going to get put away for a long long time. Somewhere he'll never see sunlight. And I'll personally make sure he never sees another child ever, ever again."