CRAIG:
"You shouldn't be here," Sebastian murmurs to Ashleigh while feigning study of his Scrabble letters. It's an observation I anticipated him stating far sooner.
Ashleigh ignores him, studying the board for a long minute before hesitantly placing three of her tiles beside an 's' to spell 'dips.'
Dad snorts as he marks down her score, and I fervently wish I had the balls to tip the table on him.
"He's right," I hiss into her other ear. The girl has played her part beautifully tonight, ever courteous without stepping the line, and she's received nothing but snide comments and derision in return.
"Dang, wait," she ignores me too. "I've just thought of a better one. Take backsies?"
"I'm afraid not, dear," Mum shakes her head as she takes her turn. To Kathryn, she adds, "these art students, eh?" And Kathryn titters, slying a glance across the table.
Sebastian's gaze sears me like this is entirely my fault, and I've no defense. "Let's just forget that the art student lashed us all at Monopoly, should we?" He says, his smile barely curving his lips.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm taking a toilet break."
"Not going with?" Gary mouths at me with a smirk.
The taunt doesn't go unnoticed. "Think I'll manage just fine on my own, thanks."
I turn away, slumping in my chair, and down the last of my Sprite. Drinking anything that'd dull my wits in this wasp hive is well beyond my level of stupid, tempting though it may be. We still have Trivial Pursuit to endure through after this, and then, when the adults are sufficiently jolly, the cards will come out, and the evening will take a viciously competitive turn.
Sebastian's watch of me doesn't relent as he leaves the table, and I figure if he still suspects me of adding vodka to my drink, then so be it. Rising from my seat with my empty glass in hand, I cross the room to the bar. "Get your orders in now, people!" I announce, feigning a study of the spirits.
Gary's little brother, Damien, perks up from his slouch. "I'll take a dash of rum for my coke!"
"Nope," their dad, Louis, instantly deflates him.
"So lame," Damien huffs, sinking back down.
I'm mighty deliberate in blanking Sebastian's sharp glare, and the heady kick I get out of provoking him goes to show just how far below lame this evening has dragged me. It's kind of disturbing.
But then Gary pipes up, demanding attention, and at his mention of Marley Higher, I immediately shut myself off.
It's no surprise when Ashleigh draws up beside me a minute later. She sets her empty glass on the polished bar beside mine and props her elbow in the gap between them. "Why didn't you tell me he's now at college with you?"
"Why would I?" I pull out a second bottle of Sprite from the fridge and hold it out to her, cracking open my own. "What's it to do with you?"
There's a distinct sense of pity in her eyes I don't like seeing. "You gave up so much to get away from him."
My head shakes. "No," I sigh. Because the Tinwell's are considered practically family and try as I might, that's not something I can escape. "He's not why I left."
She wraps her warm fingers around the bottle, hesitating to take it from me. "Craig, who are you trying to —"
"Son," Dad interrupts her, exacting an instant hush without raising his voice. "Gary's just told me about the 87 he scored on an Ethic's test you neglected to inform me of."
Ashleigh's eyes bore into mine.
"An accidental omission, I'm sure," he goes on. "What mark did you achieve?"
I drop my gaze. "79."
"Pardon?"
"I got 79."
"Huh. Yes, that's what I thought I heard. Perhaps not so much an accident after all, then."
My spine stiffens, and I don't need to glance over to know Gary's lapping this up. That test didn't even count for much of anything, anyway. Its only purpose was to assess our progress. I thought I'd successfully hidden my paper from his prying eyes, but no way would he have brought it up with Dad if he didn't know he'd bested me.
"Care to explain," Dad continues, "how it's possible that, in a mere fortnight of classes, Gary has managed to surpass your year's worth of study?"
A soft "not really" is all I respond, because what's the point in telling him I'd been deliberately and relentlessly disrupted that whole class? Or that I strongly suspect some manipulation of his new top-ranking table buddy, Naz, had occurred?
"You can't seriously —" Ashleigh starts, her voice carrying.
But she's once again cut off. Gary's not about to let her rain on his parade. "Don't be too hard on him, Phil. It's just, after everything you did to get me in there, I'm crazy determined not to let you down."
"And what?" Mum speaks up. "It's too much for us to expect our son to take the same stance?"
"Now, now, Samantha," her bestie wouldn't ever pass up such an opening to add her spoon to the pot. "Surely all that matters is that both our boys are in the best place for them, well clear of that Godforsaken school and the trouble it breeds."
"Don't," I caution, swift to catch Ashleigh's wrist as she makes to straighten and turn.
She flashes me a scathing look, hissing, "I've tried my best, Craig, but this? Seriously! How can you just sit there and take it?"
"Gary has mentioned some concern, mind you," Kathryn talks over her, not yet done stirring, "that Craig perhaps spends more hours in the gym than he does in the library."
Ashleigh's stranglehold on her drink sploshes it over our hands as Sebastian explodes back into the room, his phone held aloft.
"We're going," he announces. "Now!" Striding over to the bar, he takes the bottle from her hand and sets it down. Then he pulls her free of my forgotten grip, shaking the phone in her face. "Emergency. We have to leave."
She scrambles for a napkin to dab up the spillage, only for her panicked expression to fade the very instant she focuses on his screen. I can't see what she sees, but it doesn't take me long to catch up. His timing could only have been better if he'd pulled this stunt at the start.
"An emergency?" Gary's chuckling at his quip before it even leaves his mouth. "What's happened, Farm Boy? The bull got loose with your cows, eh?" For once, only Damien indulges him, joining in on his "Bow-chick-a-wow-wow."
But Louis' attention pricks. "Farm Boy, eh? North Farm? As in one of Doubtfire's kids?"
"Come on, Ash," Sebastian urges, in a display of great restraint.
Delving a hand into my jeans pocket, I retrieve Roxy's key. "I'll drive you back." My stare wills him not to brush me off. But then, what choice does he really have? I drove them both here.
I watch him flick from Gary to me to my Sprite and back again, holding my breath. With a single nod of his head, he turns and walks back out of the conservatory. Ashleigh's close on his heels.
"Craig?" Dad calls as I start after them. My step falters. "You're not —"
Mum clucks her tongue. "Just let him go, Philip. He's clearly determined to suck the fun from tonight, anyway."
Her dismissal stings, but I take it. "Cheers."
"No fair!" I hear Damien moan.
"We're in the middle of a game, here," Dad's voice trails me out. "This is the one night I expect for us to all be together as a family, and you're letting him ditch on us without a word of explanation or apology?"
"It was your half-baked idea to insist he bring the girl over!" Mum snipes back.
Ashleigh and Sebastian are both already waiting by Roxy when I make it to the open front door. They stare at me, one with a little apprehension and the other with distinct impatience. Sliding a brief glance at the staircase, reassuring myself that Christopher remains undisturbed, I hastily step into my shoes and out the house.
Only once we're all settled in the car, the doors shut, do I ask the burning question. "There's no emergency, is there?"
"Nope," Sebastian replies, displaying not a hint of repentance as he belts himself into the passenger seat.
I nod, turning the key in the ignition.
Reaching between the front seats, Ashleigh rests a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry," she says.
And I'm not sure what it is she's saying sorry for or in what way she means for me to take it, so I simply nod again and click the button on my fob for the security gates before reversing down the drive.
She retrieves her arm, sitting back with a soft sigh as I manoeuvre us out onto the narrow, secluded road, and a weighty silence descends on us.
Until we're about halfway to the farmhouse.
"So, that's Tinwell." I startle when Sebastian's the one who disturbs it, and as my gaze jumps across to him, the subtle crook to his lips suggest that was entirely his intent. A jut of his chin redirects my focus to the road. "Not at all what I was expecting. But somehow, also, worse..."
"What on earth do your folks see in him, Craig?" Ashleigh's quick to chime in, like she's spent this whole time choking on those words and can no longer hold them back.
A snort is the only response I make. Because I'm unwilling to acknowledge the answer to her question out loud. That it's Gary Tinwell's ambitious nature — and his fierce aggression in pursuing it — my parents are drawn to. That he's everything my dad values, and I sorely lack.
"After all the bastard's put you through," she adds, sounding bitter on my behalf, while
Sebastian's intrusive study prickles at my skin.
Switching on the stereo, I turn the volume all the way up.