Plan B

Chapter Twenty-two

By lunchtime the following day, Brookie was still only wandering around in his pyjamas.  He’d been in and out of the common room so many times that most of the others had ceased to comment on his pink zombie hoodie and had just zoned out in front of the TV.  Many of them had lesson cancellations due to three burst water pipes that had flooded roads in the surrounding area so badly that many teachers who didn’t live on campus were unable to get to work.

“Are you seriously planning to go to lunch like that, or are you just trying to rub in the fact that you have no lessons today?” demanded Owen, one of the quieter boys in the year.  Brookie turned from the toast he was buttering and made a slow rubbing motion with the knife.

“Rubbing it in so deep it burns,” he replied.  “Frankie and I are eating in our room.”

“Toast?” queried Owen.  “You’re going to eat fourteen slices of toast for lunch?  Man, what kind of a diet are the pair of you on?”

Brookie just shrugged and turned back in time to grab the fifteenth and sixteenth slices as they popped up out of the toaster.  “Frankie’s ill.  Matron’s not in, so I’m just looking after him.”

There was a yell from the red sofa in front of the TV.  “Oh my God!  Brookie!”

With a sigh, Brookie stacked the final pieces of toast onto the plate.  “Hey, is it really that much of a problem if I make sure my roommate gets something to eat?”

“Brookie!”  Aaron’s voice was somewhat insistent.  “When the f*ck did this happen?”

“Huh?”

“Is this why you were in such a foul mood yesterday?”  Isaac this time.  “Because you and Selena broke up?”

“What?”  Brookie nearly dropped the plate.  “Who told you that?”

Isaac pointed at the TV.  “It’s on the news.”

“It’s not news,” Arthur cut in angrily.  “It’s gossip.”

“Wha— how did—?”  Baffled, Brookie approached the sofa and stared at the TV.  “How on earth did they find out so quickly?”

“Some friend of Selena’s bleated to the media late last night,” Rico explained, resting a hand on Brookie’s arm in an attempt to calm him, but Brookie’s pulse was already beginning to rise and he could barely take in the pictures onscreen or what the TV presenters were saying.  “Apparently there’s some story going around that your roommate’s a girl.”

“Frankie’s gay,” Aaron sniffed.  “There’s a gigantic difference.”

“I think we’d notice a girl wandering around on the corridor,” Hewie put in disparagingly.

“If Brookie’s roommate was a girl, she would have to be one hell of a dangerous stalker.”  Piers added his two pence worth.  “Besides, if Frankie was a dangerous stalking fan, wouldn’t he worship the ground that Brookie treads on rather than quite clearly not getting on with him?”

Brookie just continued to gape.  There was only one thought going through his head, and it was sending him into a near panic.  If Frankie finds out it’s gone to the press, he’s going to blow a fuse.

“Hey, Brookie?  Brookie, are you okay?  You’ve gone as white as a sheet.”  Arthur snapped his fingers in front of Brookie’s eyes.

Brookie jumped and shook himself.

“Fine.  Fine, I’m okay,” he babbled.  “I’ll be right back!  I mean, I’m going to eat—”  Clutching the plate of toast in trembling hands, he sprinted from the room and pelted down the corridor.