“You don’t have to go to the meetings,” I continue. “Next Thursday is Sustainability Day. Bake a cake the night before. Then, on Thursday lunchtime, sell cakes at the stall. Got it?”
“Mm-hmm.” His eyes don’t move from the window.
I stare at him, vibrating with annoyance. I hate the fact that he won’t look at me.
Feeling my gaze on him, he turns his head and meets my eye. “The teacher said detention is for all of lunchtime. That’s why I’m still here.”
“Don’t pretend you haven’t broken rules before.” I want to ask him about his last school and what happened with Fin in the bathroom. When I asked Aiden and Hudson, they mumbled the same non-answer that they weren’t meant to talk about it, but that Kieran started it. But how did he start it? And why?
“Stop looking at me like that,” Kieran says.
I flinch, then scowl. “Don’t forget. Next Thursday.” I walk out.
*
After I finish washing my hands in the en-suite, I return to my bedroom and collapse on the bed. Sometimes I fall asleep right after a jerk off session, but sometimes, like tonight, I stay awake, my mind spinning too fast to keep up with. This weekend, I have to do a heap of maths revision for my test on Monday, and revise my notes for chemistry, and there were those practice questions for biology…
I also need to go to the supermarket to buy laundry powder and dishwashing liquid and…what else was there? Bleach? I should clean the bathrooms…
Shit, this is not the crap I want to think about after jerking off. But I don’t want to think about sex either, because I already think about sex way too often. I’ve called it my sex problem.
Look, I know that it’s normal for guys to be horny, but is it normal to bethishorny? Maybe I’m this way because I’m still a virgin. Yes, I’m eighteen, and the furthest I’ve ever gone with someone was kissing. I mean, once I groped a girl’s boobs, but that was an accident. I tripped and fell on her.
Anyway, once when I was in class, I heard a group of girls saying that it’s not a big deal if you’re still a virgin, and threw around words likepatriarchyandsocietal pressure. Well, maybe it’s okay if you’re a girl and you’re a virgin, but all of my friends have had sex multiple times. Aiden lost his when he was fourteen, which is crazy to me. The fact that I’m still one makes me wonder what’s wrong with me.
I can’t be totally disgusting to girls. I’ve had girlfriends in the past, when we were young enough for it to not count. And I’ve had situationships with a few girls, but they never led anywhere. Is there something wrong with my face? My body? My personality?
I hate thinking about this, because it makes me feel gross and pathetic, being this horny all the time. I wish I could use the space in my mind for more important things, like studying, and my responsibilities, and convincing my parents to call me more than once a week.
Imogen’s words from this afternoon float into my mind.He’s hot. Hmph. I bet Kieran’s not a virgin.
Stop it, Jasper. There’s no way in hell I’m letting Kieran Phillips be the last thing I think about before I fall asleep tonight.
6
Kieran: Virgin
“You’ll get salmonella,” I say, chucking broken egg-shells into the bin.
On the other side of the kitchen island, Senior sits on a stool, eating the rest of the brownie batter from the bowl with a silver teaspoon. “I’ve done this my entire lifetime and haven’t died yet,” he replies.
I huff out a laugh as I grab another bowl and spill red-velvet cake mix into it.
“Are you making more? Won’t the brownies be enough?” Senior asks.
“I might as well make a backup,” I say, as I scoop out tablespoons of butter and add it to the mix. “I don’t want to bring burned food to the stall.”
Senior pushes his bowl away. “Because it’ll give Jasper a reason to berate you?”
I begin to nod before stopping myself. “Because no one wants to eat burned food. Anyway, if they both turn out fine, that’s more food to sell.” I add the eggs and milk, then start mixing the red batter.
It’s eight o’clock on the night before the stall. I should have baked earlier — I walked to the supermarket to buy ingredients right after school — but I did my homework first, which took longer than I expected. I thought about ditching it, but the teachers at my new school check that you’ve done everything whereas my old teachers couldn’t care less. I don’t want to half-ass my homework anyway, especially when Easton Grammar’s tuition fees is costing my dad ten grand.
“I’m glad you’re contributing to the bake stall,” Senior says, standing up and moving around the island to put the kettle on. In the month I’ve been living with Senior, I know him well enough to know at this time of night he’s going to make a cup of tea with a splash of milk and a teaspoon of sugar. I pass him the bottle of milk. “Cheers,” he says, taking it.
“I’m only doing it because Jasper forced me to,” I say.
“He’s not forcing you.”
