I win that round, which pisses Jasper off. The following games only get worse. Jasper and I argue over who won every round with a hand each pressed against the pile. Jasper keeps trying to cut my finger off with the side of his hand, so I do the same because we’re playing dirty now.
Senior tells us to calm down over and over. Jasper and I pretend to listen until we’re raising our voices.
“Alright, that’s enough of this game,” Senior announces, grabbing the cards before we can protest and putting them back in their box. “I think it’s time to get ready for bed.”
Senior has a shower first, then me. Afterwards, I’m lying on my bed when Jasper comes out of the bathroom, hair damp and dressed in his pyjamas. He’s wearing an old shirt and cotton shorts that show off his long legs, with thighs that you could imagine wrapped around —
“Look,” he says, stopping in front of the bunk bed and showing me his hand.
“What am I meant to be looking at?”
He pushes his hand closer to me. “Can’t you see? I bet there’s going to be bruises.”
There is nothing on his hand. “You’re the most melodramatic person I’ve ever met,” I say. “Did you do theatre as a kid?”
Jasper’s expression darkens, and he drops his hand. “I think you have a violence problem. You know, sports can help you with anger issues.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Boys,” Senior warns from where he’s tucked into his bed, a book in his hands.
“It’s a card game,” I continue. “You’re the one who started it. I would never hurt someone on purpose,” I say, so outraged everything disappears. I think of Sydney, I think of my old school, I think of Michael —
“Right,” Jasper says. “Says the guy who got into a fight on his first day of school. Why should anyone believe anything you say?”
“Jasper. Kieran.” It’s Senior, looking more mad than I’ve ever seen him look in my life. “Are you eighteen or eight-year-olds?” He gets out of bed and pulls on his socks and shoes.
“Where are you going?” Jasper asks when Senior throws his book and pills into a bag.
“The lobby. I’m getting another room.” He sounds tired and irritated, and shame runs through me. “One of you can have the queen bed.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “You don’t have to go —”
“We’ll shut up now,” Jasper says at the same time.
But Senior has never changed his mind once it’s made up. We watch helplessly as he trudges to the hotel room door, bones tired from the long day. “I’ve left the room keys on the coffee table. By the end of this trip, you two have to learn how to treat each other with respect. Goodnight.” With that, he leaves the room and the door clicks behind him with resounding finality.
I turn to face Jasper. He returns my gaze, and I ready myself for another argument, us flinging accusations of blame. But then his eyes dim, and he crawls into the queen bed.
That leaves the bottom bunk for me. Jasper’s already lain in it, but I don’t care when it means I have more space. I pull the covers over me and turn on my side, so I’m not looking at him.
I hate upsetting Senior, but what did he expect? I warned him that this would happen. There’s no way in hell Jasper and I willeverget along.
10
Jasper: Hot Tub
The next morning, Kieran and I get ready without speaking to each other. As much as I’d like to blame last night on him, if I’m being honest, it was my fault, too. Sometimes I get carried away talking to Kieran.
Senior seems cheerful when we meet him in the dining room for breakfast.
“Are you going to come back to the room?” I ask while buttering my toast.
“I’ve decided it’s better if I won’t. I’m giving you two the opportunity to bond.”
I glance at Kieran, who’s sipping a hot chocolate. Yeah. Right.
“Anyway,” Senior continues, adding honey to his bowl of porridge, “I’m going to catch up with one of my old friends today. Remember Richard, Jasper? He’s a friend from university,” he tells Kieran. “Which means I’ll be leaving you two to ski together. I’ll leave you in charge of instructing Kieran to ski,” he tells me.
