Nick always worried about the St. John's match—the boys were mean, and they took rugby extremely seriously. Only Nick and Harry and a couple of the other boys were good enough to give them any kind of an even fight, so they never did well and it wasn't particularly enjoyable. He liked the challenge, personally, but for most of the boys it was more than a challenge, and that never made for a good game.

He was more sorry than he could say that this was Charlie's first official game. They warmed up together on St. John's track—which was much nicer than the grass at Truham. Usually Nick liked to talk over a match with Charlie during warm-up, but today he was going over tactics in his head, trying to plan for whatever might happen, feeling guilty that he couldn't make this a better match for Charlie's first time.

"So, all my friends are showing up in a bit to watch me play," Charlie said, breaking into Nick's thoughts abruptly.

Nick tried to shake off his worries and focus on what Charlie was saying. "All your friends?"

"Tao, Isaac, and Elle. I said they really didn't have to come, but ... Elle said they wanted to be supportive."

"Oh. That's ... that's nice."

It was incredibly nice, in Nick's experience. He didn't know anyone who would show up to be supportive to him. His mum came to some matches—the ones Nick told her were important to him—but certainly he didn't think he had any friends who would. Of course, most of his friends were playing, but even if they weren't he felt it would be the same.

Charlie took his silence the wrong way. "Don't worry," he said reassuringly. "I won't say anything about us."

"Oh." Nick felt terribly guilty. He wished he could just tell Charlie to shout it from the rooftops. But he couldn't. "Yeah. Good. Thanks." Glancing at Charlie, he asked, "You sure it's okay?"

"Yeah. 'Course."

Harry came running up between them before Nick could say anything further, wrapping an arm about each of their shoulders. "Not going to flake out today, are you, Charlie?"

"No."

"We're counting on you."

Then he let go and joined the other boys. Charlie looked over his shoulder. "They're here. I'll be right back."

He ran over to his friends just as the coach was calling them to line up for the passing exercise.

Nick started stretching on one of the barriers, unable to keep his eyes off Charlie and his friends. There were two other girls there—to Nick's surprise, he recognized Tara Jones and her girlfriend. He wanted to go over there, to meet Charlie's friends, to have the right to be part of their conversation, and it made him miserable to know that it was his own choice that that couldn't happen. Well, not a choice, so much, but ... his fault, definitely.

He wished he knew what they were talking about. Tara's girlfriend had hugged Charlie, and now Charlie was tearing at his sleeves anxiously. Even as Nick tried to listen harder, a lot of people from his general friend group came by, walking between them. One of them was Ben, who ignored them both. Another was Imogen, who waved at Nick. "You all right, Nick?"

He straightened and waved at her in return, but all he could see was Charlie.

One of the boys behind him called him to come and join the warm-up, so he did, and Charlie came over in a bit and joined in as well.

At last it was time to start the match. Nick wished it was over already. He and Charlie stood together watching as the St. John's players came out.

"Quick question," Charlie said. "Why are the other team literal adult men?"

"They're a specialist sports school."

Charlie shifted over until their arms were touching, then moved away. "Sorry. Nervous."

Nick wished he could reassure him, but he was nervous enough about this game himself.

Once the match finally began, Nick threw himself into the rugby, which he loved. The challenge of playing against a team larger and stronger and more skilled than himself was fun for him—or it would have been if he hadn't worried about some of his smaller teammates, including Charlie.

Despite their best efforts, they fell behind immediately. It only got worse when it started to rain. The pitch quickly grew slippery and treacherous.

And then Charlie chose the worst possible time to finally stand his ground and try the tackle. The St. John's player literally ran over him, and Charlie was left lying on the pitch, his nose bloodied.

"Charlie!" Nick called, over the rain and the other boys shouting.

Coach Singh blew her whistle and ended the game. They were losing badly anyway, and the pitch really wasn't safe any longer.

Nick stood in the rain feeling terribly, terribly guilty. Charlie was only here because Nick had asked him, because Nick had wanted an excuse to spend time with him. And now he was hurt, and Nick couldn't go to him because he couldn't be what Charlie needed and he couldn't not be with him, and he was left here in this no-man's-land where everything was all wrong, and it was all his fault.

All he could see was Charlie's face when he asked to keep their relationship a secret, and the guilt joined in with the rain and the mud and the loss and the worry for Charlie in his general misery.

Charlie's friends stood there looking distressed; Ben and the others who had come with him were laughing. Nick would have liked to see any of them stand against a well-trained giant man coming at them in the rain and see how they did.

Coach Singh walked Charlie off the pitch, and reluctantly, Nick caught up with his mates. Thankfully, the St. John's players had left the pitch without any of the standard "good game" comments exchanged. Nick wouldn't have joined in, anyway. They had always been bad-spirited players, and this just made it feel all the worse.