FABLE

Chapter Forty Seven

He stops talking and shrieks as Felix punches him hard in the arm, his expression spelling murder.

"Ahem, we've heard that you have a great voice," Alastaire says, shooting Felix a look that says I dare you. "And keep in mind, that feedback comes from someone who has Zara Quinn, the harlot starlet herself, serenading him in just about every one of her hit singles. As much as I detest the girl, even I have to admit she has a great set of pipes. It's quite the compliment."

"Thanks," I say to Felix, but he's avoiding eye contact, looking at Alastaire like he wants to kill him. "I don't mind singing tomorrow, I guess. If it's just back-up."

I've never been shy of singing in front of other people before. It's probably the only thing that I don't ever feel shy about. So why does the thought of doing it in front of them make me feel like I'm about to have a heart attack?

"Anyway, enough music talk," Ben says, going over to the fridge and swinging it open loudly. "Who wants guacamole and nachos? Speak up now."

"You just ate a whole tub of ice cream," Elliot says.

"Yeah, well, smashing those drums takes it out of me," he says.

"Are you staying for dinner Ash?" Elliot asks.

With a start I realise that I haven't checked the time in hours. I fish my phone out of my hoodie pocket. 4.05pm. Dammit.

"I need to get going," I say. "My parents are going to freak out if I'm not back by sundown."

"Ah, that's your cue Lyall," Alastaire says, rising from his seat. "We'll give you two a minute."

All the other boys, even Felix, follow his lead and follow him out the door. All except Lyall, who is left sitting down on the opposite side of the kitchen counter from me, fidgeting nervously with a straw.

Am I imagining it, or is his face... turning red? Does this have something to do with the stuff I overheard on the porch earlier? OMG.

After a few moments of silence, broken only by the snickering and sniggering I can hear coming from outside the room, he speaks.

"Ash, this is really dense, but I have ter ask," he says. "I said they should just ask yer themselves, or whatever, but I lost this stupid bet with them an' I guess... it's real stupid an' all. It doesn't mean anythin', I'm just askin' if yer want ter start sleepin' over in de spare room overnight, so as yer don't have ter lug all yer things through de forest every day. No funny stuff of course. But de lads made it a big deal an 'all an'... an'...

His last few words are so high pitched and jumbled that in combination with the thick Irish accent, it's totally impossible to hear what he's saying.

Howling laughter rings out from the entrance hall, and Alastaire falls into the room, clutching the doorway as he doubles over in fits of hilarity.

"That was so worth it," he says, wiping tears away from his eyes. "Just as marvellously awkward and entertaining as I expected it to be. Lyall, you can stop."

"You lost a bet?" I ask Lyall. What the hell is going on?

He nods his head, and Alastaire smirks as Ben and Elliot walk back into the room and join us.

Felix is nowhere to be seen.

"Yer such an unbelievably immature git, Al," Lyall says.

"I can't disagree," Alastaire says. "Anyhow, Lyall's pathetic fumbling and bumbling aside, what do you say, Cupcake? It must take you a long time going back and forth between the burbs and the woods every day. Why not just stay the night with us sometimes? We'd love to have you."

"That's enough Alastaire, she gets it," Elliot says. "Anyway, there's a spare room. It would make a lot of sense for you to use it, rather than heading back home every day. Would your parents be cool with it?"

My parents. Damn. I have to ask the guys about the dinner. Well, no time like the present.

So I tell the guys about this morning's conversation and the ultimatum my parents gave me. They meet all the boys over a home-cooked meal and an embarrassing evening of board games, or I can't continue helping with the album - and definitely can't commit to any sleepovers.

I expect the boys to think it's lame, but to my surprise they're all totally up for it.

"Your parents are chefs, right?" Ben says. "Trust me, by Thursday we'll be dying to eat something other than microwave meals and Kitty's home cooking."

"And it's actually a good idea, I get why your parents want to check us out, make sure we're ok," says Elliot.

"Yeah, we can show them we're decent upstandin' lads," Lyall adds, before narrowing his eyes at Alastaire. "Well, most of us anyways."

Unperturbed, Alastaire reaches out and takes my hand across the kitchen counter. "Don't worry, Ashling my angel," he says. "I will personally take your parents aside to assure them that we are nothing if not trustworthy young gentlemen with pure and noble intentions, who would never endanger a young woman's innocence."

Ben lazily karate chops Alastaire's hand, forcing him to let go of mine. "Yeah, you're the only one of us they need to be worried about."

"That settles it then," Elliot says. "Dinner at seven on Thursday, your place."

"How are we gonna get there without gettin' recognized?" Lyall asks eagerly. "D'ya reckon we'll need disguises?"

"We'll figure that out later," Alastaire says. "Our first challenge is to convince Lord Grumps and his control freak sister."

"Easy as pie," Ben says.

Later, as I'm walking home through the woods (alone, despite Alastaire's protests), I go through all the things that could possibly go wrong. Worst case scenario, my parents say something stupid and embarrass me. Or they take out the photo albums or something like that.

That's not so bad. On a scale of one to ten, getting embarrassed by one's parents in front of your favourite band really isn't all that high. It's like a two, at most a three. A ten would be the accident. A ten is when people die. There's no reason for me to be worrying about one stupid evening so much.

Hopefully.