Bored.

Brother Mine

My eyes fly open.

The girl’s own eyes widen expectantly, full of ape-like stupidity.

I suppress an eye roll. “You’re being paranoid.”

Her tensed shoulders slump. “I know, I probably am, but I’m sure I saw Daisy looking at him in a weird way.”

“Yes,” I say, as if explaining to a child, “That’s because they are friends, but nothing more. They’ve been discussing how he should go about ending your relationship.”

The girl’s face contorts, and she lets out a whimper. “W-w-what?”

I jump down from where I’d been sitting on the table. “It’s obvious.” I say.

She starts to look angry. “H-how? Are… are you taking the piss?”

I sigh. “Didn’t you notice them this lunch? They walked into the canteen together, like friends would. If he had cheated on you both would be attempting to hide any proximity. They ate lunch. She finished hers but he didn’t – he had a lack of appetite, which considering his size is unusual behaviour. They were conversing deeply: discussing something private. Both their eyes were restless, and at the moment you walked in she unashamedly met your gaze, but he did not. Really, you’d have to be stupid not to–”

But she slaps me in the face before I can finish.

Her eyes shiny and watery; her lip quivering uncontrollably, she says, “Arsehole,” and then storms off.

I rub my jaw and mutter something inconsequential about ‘you asked for my help’ before checking my watch, throwing my bag over my shoulder and making my way out of the empty classroom.

I am forced squint a little to see through the glaring light of the sun as its glaring rays reflect off of the grey concrete courtyard, but sure enough the shiny black car awaits me, prompt, as usual. I hop in the passenger seat.

“How was school?” asks the driver, in a tone of condescension. Having recently turned eighteen, my brother’s smugness about leaving school and getting a brand new shining Lexus is impossibly more irritating that I’d ever known it to be.

“Dull.”

He lets out a small chuckle and starts the car. He closes his eyes and seems to take in the low sound of the grumbling engine. Once he seems satisfied, he says, “Oh, I almost forgot – silly me.”

Mycroft reaches over to the back seat and places something red and soft on my lap.

“What is this?” I ask. “A scarf? I don’t need a scarf; haven’t you seen the weather, it’s sunny; it’s been sunny for the past three weeks. I don’t need, a scarf.” I throw the long red material onto his knee.

He purses his lips, and says with an air of wisdom, “Not for long.” Slowly he picks up the thing and releases it back to me.

I sigh, and hold a bundle of it between my fingers, my eyes darting along the interweaving threads. “Slight fraying around the edges.”

“That can be fixed.”

“There’s a stain – a coffee stain, from about… three days ago.”

“That can be washed.”

“It’s coarse – it would be uncomfortable.”

“That will fade over time.”

I grit my teeth. “Well, it’s red.”

Mycroft slowly turns his head to look at me and smiles – a thin-lipped, cold-eyed smile. “Wonderfully deduced, brother mine.”

“I don’t like red.”