The Renovation Complication

18. Suspicious Behaviour

I think I'm high.

Off paint fumes, that is.

So, it turns out that the little paint war that went on yesterday? Yeah, I think we're going to have to start over with these walls. They are sprayed all over with speckles of colours that just aren't meant to be there. It's called an accent wall for a reason. This has tacky rolled 'r's written all over it in the form of minty green specks.

You get it?

"Come on Tori!" Alex shouts from downstairs. I don't understand why he always has to be so early to school. I mean, it's not like he's actually learning anything. He's failing almost every subject, and the principal has threatened to assign him a tutor if he doesn't pick up his game (not the football kind).

But I'm not allowed to tell the parentals, apparently.

At least I'm passing. That Math test? I totally got a C minus! That's a Victoria A plus! Katherine couldn't believe my excitement with a pass, but it's not easy to avoid failing when you've moved schools every few months for the past four years. Let's just say my study habits aren't exactly up to scratch.

I haul my bag over my shoulder and trump out of the disastrous room. I'm going to have to remove that layer of paint and start fresh when I get home. And Mason is not invited.

You have no idea the embarrassment he caused me yesterday, after he stormed back next door. I was cornered by a very irritated, suspicious brother who wanted nothing more than to yank Mason's hair out for laying a finger on me.

And trust me, with Alex... there's no explaining. There is no justification, no reasoning, it's his way or the highway.

And after he was done insulting me with the prospect that Donovan was 'feeling me up' in front of his friends, he made it quite clear that I was not to have anything to do with Mason unless it was compulsory.

Apparently this renovation is compulsory in this house.

I assured him that I would like nothing more than to wring out the neighbour's paint slickened neck for the entire situation, but that made him madder? I don't get boys.

The boards click under my shoes as I shimmy down the staircase and search the room for Alex. Adam leaves before the sun rises to do whatever it is that Adam does, so he is obviously out of the picture as per usual.

What kind of person has time for everyone and everything but their family? I guess that's not very fair of me to think, but it doesn't make it go away.

"Alex!" I call and my father pokes his head through the kitchen archway. I haven't seen him in a while.

"He's in his room, Victoria." He says in a hushed tone, and before I can reply, "No, no. Not you Mr Jay. Of course, of course." With that he picks up his brief case and leaves through the front door, not even sparing a glance backwards.

"Bye, dad." I whisper, if only to myself.

It's times like these that make things a little heavier isn't it? When your own father's phone call is more important than pleasantries and your brother isn't answering you and your other brother isn't even here. They're all busy busy busy with their exceptional, extraordinary lives as I wait by the front door for someone to invite me into this strange system. The only person that speaks to me civilly, on a regular basis is Ashley, and we're not even actually related.

I guess that's why.

A jersey-clad body slips right in front of me, moving like a zombie.

"Alex," I snap, but he barely peaks up from his phone.

Goshdarn these kids and their flying machines! As Old Man Jenkins would say.
Spongebob reference. Sorry.

He keeps his honey eyes glued to the light emanating from his hands, slowly making his way to the kitchen. That's it.

I step in and grab his forearm, dragging him toward the front door and he exclaims profanities in annoyance. Finally, he snatches himself away from my grip and glares at me.

"Oh, get over yourself," I begin, but I'm interrupted by a small ping! from the accused's cell. I groan and he peaks down, face almost immediately igniting with rage.

"What?" I ask, trying to peak down at his phone, but he shoves me away, grumbling before dialling a number. He stamps in the direction of his room, waiting for whomever it is he's calling to pick up. "Are we going?" I call helplessly.

"I'll get a lift with someone. Bye." He grumbles audibly from the next room. God, what caught his panties in a knot?

Suspicious behaviour noted from experiment 626.

I roll my eyes and I'm not even sure if it's directed at myself or Alex or everybody in the whole goddamn world that decided that all teenage boys had to be broody and grumpy. Shouldn't girls be like that? I think we have more of a right to.

I turn the silver handle and swing the front door open with brutal force. Just venting, nothing more, nothing less until –

"Ow! What the hell?"

I think we may have said the second part in synchronisation. Who on Earth could be waiting on my doorstep at this time of morning? It definitely isn't Katherine, unless she had a big bowl of testosterone for breakfast.

I pull a face and peak around the door, a jumbled mass of apologies spurting out of my mouth like a fountain of concern.

"I'm so sorry, are you alright? What were you... Oh. It's just you." I smile sweetly, "Never mind."

Pale blue eyes scald my soul and it's a good thing I don't burn easily, because sheesh!

"Well, good morning to you, too." Sarcasm drips from each syllable as Mason looks at least three hundred percent displeased to be here right now.

"What do you want?" I push past him, toward my not-so-my little red car. I hear him growl behind me, but my pride won't allow me to look back.

"My parents left early and I can't get a hold of anyone," It sounds like the proverbial version of pulling teeth, "So can I get a lift with you?"

He utters the final part so gruffly that I almost don't hear it. Almost.

"What was that?" I hold a hand up to my ear, spinning on my foot. Mason works his angled jaw and presses his lips together. I love how much me just being me can irritate him.

I think it's my new favourite sport.

"Can. I. Get. A. Lift." He clips every word and crosses him arms, looking anywhere but at me. I notice for the first time that his hair is darker, damper and he's wearing a black leather jacket I don't think I've ever seen on him before.

He looks... sexy.

In the way in where I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole in fear of getting herpes. Seriously, what do girls see in him? What does Kasey see in him? He's moody and broody and sarcastic and sassy. That's my job, Mason.

"Well?"

Oh. I've been staring at him, and he doesn't look too pleased. To cover up, I roll my eyes at him and flick my head toward the car. It's going to be a long ride.

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