Knife's Edge

CHAPTER NINE

He rolls his eyes and returns to watching the program as my mind wanders back to Dylan. My smile fades as I picture him sitting at home, revising whatever the hell it is that math geniuses revise, whilst my Psychology book is currently sitting on my desk upstairs, unopened and unloved. My smile is replaced with a grimace as I remind myself that my exam is two days before his. I stand up with grim determination, prepared to start some revision of my own. It's my last exam for the year; I can't give up—if only to prove Frank and Gina wrong about slacking at the last hurdle.

"Gross," Owen mutters as I leave the room.

"I'm not sexting Dylan," I call back, laughing as I head upstairs.

With my bedroom door shut behind me, I slump down at my desk and open the textbook to the first section. I even put my phone on silent this time. How's that for studious?

After two hours with my nose stuck in the textbook, I deem myself worthy of a much-needed pee break. However, when I open my bedroom door, I'm distracted by the sound of bickering. This time, it's not Bailey. It's the boys, their raised voices drifting out from behind their bedroom door.

I leave them alone for a few hours and world war three breaks out—go figure.

I give one final, wistful glance towards the bathroom door, my bladder screaming at me, before I walk over to their door and tap my knuckles against it a few times.

"Come in," Owen's voice barks, irritated.

I push open the door. The boys are both sitting on their beds, scowling at each other from across the room. My exasperated smile becomes a frown—this doesn't seem like the usual Oscar and Owen fallout. Owen looks pissed—really pissed—and it takes a lot to rile the kid up so much, he's usually relatively laid back.

"Everything okay?" I ask, looking between the two of them.

"Fine," Oscar says quickly—a little too quickly—and turns his gaze to the floor.

Things don't seem fine.

"You sure?" I ask. He doesn't reply so I turn to a still-scowling Owen. "Owen?"

He's silent for a few seconds, his eyes darting back and forth between Oscar and me as he appears to contemplate what to do.

"Don't," Oscar demands, glaring at him. "Shut up."

I wait.

"Oscar's planning on skipping school on Monday to go and see his dad," Owen blurts out, and Oscar's face drops in shock at the fact that he's been outed.

"What?" I ask, equally as shocked but for an entirely different reason.

Oscar's dad isn't allowed to see him anymore—ever. I can't believe the kid would even be considering it.

"What the hell, Owen?" Oscar shouts. He looks angry. Oscar never gets angry.

"Is it true?" I ask Oscar, regaining his attention. I don't miss the shine of tears in his eyes.

"I—he said he's really changed this time. I think he's telling the truth," Oscar mumbles, looking lost and confused and extremely upset.

"But he won't have! Why won't you just listen to me?" Owen argues, looking beyond frustrated. Clearly, they've been having this argument for a while. "I can't believe you're going to let yourself fall right back into his trap!"

His words only upset Oscar more.

"Hey, Owen, why don't you go back downstairs and watch some more TV?" I suggest calmly. He needs to cool off just as much as Oscar.