“He’s a good guy,” I said. “He’s square, but you can’t hold that againsthim. He was the first guy to be nice to me here, and he hasn’t changed since.”
Curtis nodded and tore off a strip of his cinnamon roll. “I know this is going to sound horrible, but I’m not surenicedoes it for me. Or square, or whatever. Like I could probably use a nice guy in my life, but…”
“But let me guess: you want a bad boy?”
He smiled, and we went on talking about other things.
As for the rest, the days passed as they always did: Naya tried and failed disastrously to cook for us, Mike came and went, Sue grumbled, Will was his same kind, gentle self. Jack slept at home most nights, and we fell back into our routine from our first year together, or the part of it when we were still just friends. We left the room when either of us needed to change our clothes, we took turns making the bed, we asked each other how our day had been, we watched a movie on the laptop sometimes, had silly conversations… It was as if nothing had changed, as long as you ignored the bags under his eyes and how terribly thin he’d grown.
My hand was almost healed—in a few days I’d be able to remove the bandages—but I was still supposed to rub ointment on it, just in case, and Jack had taken over that responsibility. He was a little softer than he needed to be. I reminded him I wasn’t made of porcelain, but still, every time he’d lean over me, biting his lower lip, he’d rub the cut in soft tiny circles and tell me he didn’t want to hurt me.
For the most part, I liked how things had gone back to the way they’d once been. What I wasn’t so happy about was Jack’s constant arguments with his brother. Like the afternoon when I was going over my notes and they both sat down, one on either side of me. Jack was eating from a bowl of popcorn. Mike reached across me to grab a handful. Jack pushed him and Mike hit his head, and from the way he was rubbing it, you’d have thought he had a concussion.
“Careful, dude, that actually hurt,” he shouted.
“You can take it,” Jack replied.
“We’ll see if you can take it when I do the same to you,” Mike said.
“We’ll see if you can find another place to live when I throw you out on your ass. Why are you here anyway? I thought with your band’s overwhelming success, you’d be living in a penthouse in Beverly Hills by now.”
I closed my eyes and tried to pretend I wasn’t hearing their bickering. Mike accused Jack of not appreciating all he’d done for him; Jack called Mike a parasite and said his life would be easier without him. Then they stooped to kindergarten insults:moron, idiot, loser, jerk.
“You’re both a couple of annoying babies!” I shouted, slamming shut the lid of my laptop. “You’re acting like idiots, so stop arguing about which one of you is worse! It’s both of you!”
They both looked at me with shock. If I wasn’t furious, I would have laughed, because they could have been twins in that moment. Now, as if they were suddenly on the same team, they both accused me of taking it too far, with Jack reminding me I should show a little more respect to the guy who gave me a place to stay. I held my head in my hands.
“I can’t believe that the one time you two agree on anything, it’s to argue with me.”
Mike laughed and gave me an unwanted squeeze and messed up my hair, and I screeched and stood. “I’m going to take a shower,” I announced, “so I can get at least two minutes of peace and quiet.”
“Getting all sexy for the big night?” Mike asked. “Oops, I wasn’t supposed to say that.”
I stopped in the hallway. “Sorry, what are you talking about?”
“Dinner at Mom and Dad’s house tonight. You’re invited,” Mike said.
“Just skip it,” Jack said. “It’s dumb, there’s no reason for you to go.”
“What is?” I asked.
“My mom wanted to celebrate your birthday. I told her about yourgrandmother and she canceled for a little while, but then she got the idea back in her head.”
“If I know Mom,” Mike added, “she’s got an entire banquet set up.”
To say I wasn’t in the mood would be an understatement, but just the thought of getting on Mr. Ross’s nerves was almost enough to make me want to go. Since the funeral, something had changed in me. I wasn’t as timid as I used to be. I honestly felt ready for a fight.
“I’m in,” I said.
Jack didn’t seem excited about it, but I could tell he didn’t want to contradict me. “If that’s what you want…”
“What about what I want?” Mike asked.
“Let me see if I care…” I mused. “Yeah—I don’t.”
Mike brought a hand to his heart as if he’d been shot, played dead for a few seconds, then sat up. “We’ve got time, though. What should we do till then?”
“I vote we take your brother shopping. I’m sorry, Jack, but it’s time. If I agree to go with you to your parents’, I’m not going with you looking like an absolute bum.” Jack whined and protested, but I forced him to agree, and as soon as I showered, we drove to the mall.
