My Best Friend's Brother

Chapter Seven

I spent Tuesday avoiding Dylan, and Tuesday night watching old films with Sam. I told her everything about what's happend, and she laughed, shrugging it off.

“He’s not worth your time,” Sam told me, “if he’s messing around with that other girl. Plus, you’re here for a new start, not to get caught up with boys!”

I didn’t say anything back. I just smiled.

“As a school that specialises in performing arts, we are expecting each and every one of you to try out for a role,” Mrs M addressed our English class. “This year the production is . . .”

Murmurs around the room started with guesses. It’s Oliver! one kid shouted, while Mrs M just laughed, shaking her head. The boy sank down in his chair while his friends laughed at him. Another girl, Alex, shouted Harry Potter and Mrs M shook her head again.

“Close, but, no,” she said, “in fact, we are doing a classic from Shakespeare!”

Everybody in the class groaned. Mrs M gaped at us. “What? Shakespeare is wonderful!”

Chris’ hand shot up and she pointed at him to speak. “It depends what we’re doing, Miss.”

“Of course, Christopher,” Mrs M pulled out a few flyers from her bag. “We’ve decided on . . .”

“Romeo and Juliet!” somebody at the front of the class shouted in shock. The class groaned again, louder this time. Something told me that the boys didn’t want to play Romeo, and the girls didn’t want to be paired with any of the boys.

We all took a flyer – most kids just threw theirs in the bin – and left the class after Mrs M. I read over it instead of throwing it away, intrigued. It could be fun.

“So you’re trying out?”

I jumped, turning with my fists clenched, ready to hit whoever it was. I expected it to be Tyler, but when I turned, Dylan stood with his hands in his pockets, half-smiling at me.

“We have to,” I glared at him, spinning back around and placing the flyer in my bag. I noticed him shrug through the corner of my eye.

“So,” he said, “do you want to?”

“Well,” I bit my lip before spotting Elle standing by the lunch hall waiting for me. “I’ve got to go. Sorry.”

“Wait!” he shouted once I’d nearly reached Elle. She was reading a book, clueless, so I turned. “What about tutoring?”

I’d forgotten about that. Oh, crap, I thought, running a hand through my hair nervously. It probably wasn’t the best idea, but I’d tutor him. No strings attached.

So I smiled. “Tomorrow at five. Don’t be late!”

“I won’t,” he promised.

I ended up running home from school on Thursday. I was already a little late because Mrs M wanted to speak to me about why I didn’t go to hockey practise on Tuesday. So she assigned me the role of lighting director in the school’s production of Romeo and Juliet. It wasn’t that bad – at least I didn’t have to try out.

“Dad?” I called breathlessly. There was no answer, so I tried again. “Dad? Sam? Anybody home?”

My dog Elvis barked once, but dad or Sam didn’t answer. I walked into the kitchen, seeing a note on the table that dad had left me.

Hey bud. Gon to store w/ Sam. Be back later – d x

Perfect, I thought. I quickly scratched Elvis on the back of his neck, scooped some Lucky Charms into my mouth and then ran upstairs. I still had ten minutes to spare so I peed, washed my face, put on some mascara and lip gloss and spritzed myself with some Britney Spears perfume that I’d gotten for Christmas.

And then the doorbell rang.

My heart fluttered and my stomach knotted. Smiling, I checked myself over in the mirror before pulling a brush through my hair and racing to get the door. When I opened it, I leaned against the doorframe and smiled.

“Hey, D–” I started, fluttering my eyelashes a little. Nobody was there. I frowned, peering around the edge of the door. “Dylan this isn’t funny. Where are you?”

“Dylan?” I heard dad say. When I stepped out onto the porch, I saw him loading bags from the bag of the car with Sam in tow. She walked up towards me, carrying a few plastic bags.

“Carry these inside will you, Riles” she asked, placing them at my feet and turning to help dad carry more bags in.

Of course this would happen.

It was just my luck.

“Sure, dad,” I mumbled, climbing off the front step and going to the car boot to help him. He passed me a few carrier bags before slamming the lid shut.

“Are you wearing something?” he sniffed. “Smells . . . Fruity, or something,” he said.

“Who are you trying to impress?” Sam winked knowingly, taking a few of the bags from me. I scowled at her.

“No one,” I said, smiling at dad. “I was going to meet up with Elle and go and get some pizza, you know.”

“Oh, sure,” dad mumbled. “Have fun.”

“Yeah,” I pushed past Sam who was giggling at me and walked through the hall towards the kitchen. “About that,” I added once dad had come in. “I’m not going now.”

“Why?” he set the bags down on the side next to mine. I shrugged.

“No reason,” I skipped out of the kitchen, past Sam and her smirking self and past dad who rubbed his hair with his knuckles, confused.

“Okay,” I heard him say, but I was already in my room with the door slammed shut before he could continue. And, from one of the boxes containing my CDs, I pulled out The Killers greatest hits and placed it in my stereo, pressing play and letting myself relax.

AN – You know the drill!