Plan B

Chapter Thirty

For the first time in months, Brookie woke up at a reasonable hour of morning without a strong desire to destroy his alarm clock.  At first, he was completely disorientated: there was no annoyingly loud beeping sound drilling into his brain, and he never normally forgot to set his alarm when he was at school.  That, and there was a deadweight on his arm and there were different Bruno Merton posters than the ones he was used to on the ceiling above him.  He frowned, raising his free arm to rub his eyes.

It was only then that he became aware of the whispering that had woken him up, although why he had been woken up by whispers when he could have slept through a volcanic eruption was beyond him.

“Isn’t that just the cutest thing you ever saw?”  Aaron’s voice.

“I… don’t actually think I know what to say.”  Isaac sounded like he was trying to talk around something, most likely a toastie.

“Man, I wish I had my camera on me.”  Bernard sighed dramatically.  “I could make a killing selling a photo of this.”

Brookie blinked rapidly several times and raised his middle finger in the direction of the door.  The bedroom door was open just enough for Aaron, Isaac, Bernard and Hewie to poke their heads through, one above the other, and Piers was face-palming in the background while Rico tried to stifle his laughter.

“Ooh, look!” Hewie exclaimed in a stage whisper.  “Prince Charming’s awake!  Now we just need Sleeping Handsome to wake up!”

“B*stards,” Brookie mumbled sleepily as Piers cringed.

“Well, it’s not every day that you find a movie star in bed with his roommate.”  Bernard winked conspiratorially.

The door was suddenly knocked open by somebody else and Isaac, Aaron, Bernard and Hewie all staggered as they lost their support.

“Come on, Brookie,” Arthur said loudly, apparently unfazed at where Brookie had been sleeping.  “You’ve missed check-in.  Time to get up.”  He swept the duvet off the bed before Brookie could react.

“Hey!”  Brookie protested, but he stopped with a wince as Fran’s head, which had been resting on his arm, slid off it and a vicious bout of pins and needles attacked him.  He gritted his teeth against the pain.

The loss of the duvet seemed to have woken Fran up.  She stirred sleepily and then opened her eyes, absently reaching down for where she felt the duvet ought to have been.  When her hands closed around empty air, she sat bolt upright and stared wildly around her.

It took all of about two seconds for her eyes to alight on Brookie, who was propping himself up on one elbow next to her.

“Oh my God!” she yelled, scrambling away from him and hitting her head hard against the wall.  Her bad leg stuck out awkwardly in front of her, and her arms were crossed protectively in front of her chest.  “What the f*ck are you doing in my bed?!”

Amid laughter from the others, Arthur dumped the duvet in a heap on the end of the bed.

“Brookie, I know Frankie’s gay and all that, but it’s not an excuse to defile the poor boy’s innocence.”

It was only then that Fran registered the presence of the other boys.  Staring in horror, she scooted back as far as the pillow.

“Christ almighty!  Get the f*ck out of my room, the f*cking lot of you!”

Her outburst was vehement enough to make the lot of them, Arthur included, scarper.  Fran slumped back against the wall with a groan, covering her face with her hands.  Brookie looked up from massaging his dead arm.