Fix me

Chapter 2

When I was eleven, and my brother was fifteen, on my first day of high school he promised he would look after me. He got on the bus with me while my parents watched then left me and went to the back, and didn't speak to me the rest of the day. I didn't care, I just hated the act he put on in front of them.

When I was walking home by myself after that first day, through the park, he was there with a group of friends, one of whom had a dog, an American Staffordshire Terrier. I remember the exact breed; I'll never forget it. He came towards me with the dog and his friends, asked me how the first day had been.

I don't know why he had the dog, it wasn't even his. But he saw the way I looked at it; I didn't like dogs, I never have. And it must have sensed the fear. He let it off the lead and it went straight for me.

I went home that afternoon with blood running down my arm and ended up in hospital.

I don't know why but I never told my mum and dad that my brother was involved. That night when we got back from hospital he came to me and apologised, and said he'd make it up to me.

A few weeks later, for my birthday, he bought me a rabbit.

Up until then I had spent most of my life hating him. But from then, we became much closer, and that was the first time I felt like I had a big brother who loved me.

We pack up the car until it is full, lock up the flat and set off for Cheryl's mums new house. We drive in an uncomfortable silence for ages. I don't know what to say to Cheryl Cole. It strikes me what a huge fanbase she must have, and how many people would kill to be where I am right now.

'So...you're in music.' I say awkwardly.

'Yep.'

'Are you any good?'

Cheryl laughs. 'Well, that depends on your opinion pet. Maybe you can have a listen back at the flat later.'

'I'd like that.'

'What about you, do you have a job or anything?'

'Not anymore.'

'Right. I suppose you left it when you left home?'

'Hmmm.'

Rather than ask awkward questions, like I expect her to, Cheryl just says, 'So what would you like to do? Any big dreams or anything?'

'I've never really thought about it.' I shrug.

'I always wanted to sing.' Cheryl says, her eyes on the road, but she is smiling.

'Did you ever have a backup plan or anything?'

'Well yeah, but I doubt I would've been clever enough.'

'Why, what?'

'Forensics.'

'Sorry?'

'You know, like on CSI? Don't you think it's fascinating?'

'It's gory. But yeah, it's pretty weird the ways you can find out how people died.'

'Exactly!' Cheryl said excitedly. 'Most people don't get it.'

I find myself smiling; she's easy to be around - when she isn't interrogating me. 'Bit of a huge difference though; successful singer, forensic scientist.'

'Aye I know! Come on, you must have something you're interested in.'

'I dunno. I quite like painting, sketching, I suppose. But more for fun, not a career.'

'There you go, see, there was something!'

'Okay, you win.'

Aye, and now I feel like I know you a tiny bit better. Wasn't hard was it?'