This was how Ben knew he was not a victim: he had not left the team.

‘I met a guy Up North,’ Ben told Zane. ‘We talked about my mum and dad and my step-grandma and my god-sister and how we’re all living together.’

‘That’s some fucked-up shit,’ Zane said, meaning Ben’s family, though he could have meant Ben being with a guy. Ben’s mind went back to the heart-melting poignancy of that night Up North, how he’d cried and laughed with the boy about the weirdness of their families.

‘You suck his cock?’ Zane asked.

Ben would never work out why he opened up to Zane, the most blatant homophobe. It had been amazing, after the long struggle to admit who he was, to actually kiss a boy. It seemed like a world-historic event, it should be on the TV news. But he couldn’t tell Zane. Kissing was too soppy. He would sooner have lied and said they’d had sex. ‘We’re Snapchatting each other,’ he said.

‘Fuck, man, if I had Snapchat, I’d have fourteen chicks on the go!’ Zane said. ‘Fourteen!’ He marvelled at his theoretical virility. Then he spat on the street and said, ‘Fucken phones, I’m down to zero balance.’

Zane knew these practicalities better than Ben. But maybe that was part of receiving nothing, as opposed to receiving everything. Zane was the only kid Ben knew who was not given a phone by his parents. Ben lost his phones at the rate of one a term. On the bus, at school, at cricket, at the beach—he’d lost a phone in every locality on the seaboard. His mum, keenly protective since the split, kept buying him a new one without telling Dad. ‘I only want to know where you are,’ Mum had said, as if that was a good thing. His dad, not knowing what Mum was doing, also bought him new phones. Whenever he had a spare, Ben passed it to Zane.

‘I can’t afford to get you another plan,’ Ben said.

‘Forty bucks for the magic stick and I can top up.’

‘No, I’m serious. I can’t pay for the bat. I have … money problems of my own.’

‘You’re shitting me!’ Zane grabbed him by the shoulder. Ben flinched, thinking Zane was going to hit him. ‘You serious? Okay, I can work with that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’ll sell it on the black market. Split the proceeds fifty-fifty. I reckon I can get two hundred for it.’

‘But … you can sell it anyway; you nicked it. You don’t have to split anything with me.’

Zane’s hand had moved from Ben’s shoulder up to his neck. It was gripping him with a force Ben could have taken for tenderness if it was not hurting. But maybe Zane didn’t know the difference. His eyes had turned soft.