“I knew Pip’s grandfather. He worked for me, when I first started,” Senior says. “I’ve known Pip since he was a little boy.”
“Why have I never met him?” I ask.
“He’s lived in Sydney his whole life.” Senior says. “He got himself into a spot of bother a few weeks ago, so I volunteered to take him in.”
“A spot of bother,” I echo.
“Both his father and I agree that it’s of utmost importance that he finishes high school. Education is valuable, Jasper. You know that. It won’t be for long. Graduation is in October, exams in November…why, it’s only seven months.”
Seven months? I think I’m going to explode. “When you tell Mum and Dad this, they’re going to say you’re crazy.”
“I already have,” Senior says with a shrug.
They already knew and they didn’t tell me? Then again, they probably just didn’t get the chance to call. That’s often the case with them.
“And?” I say.
“And you’re right. They said I was crazy. But I’ve never let your parents dictate my decisions.”
I put my teacup on the table and stand up. “I’m leaving,” I announce.
Sometimes it’s hard to judge Senior’s mood. Sometimes he gets pissed at me, but sometimes he reacts like this — shrugging, taking a sip of his tea. “Have a nice walk back,” he says, when I’m halfway across the room. “And prepare yourself for Monday. I’ve already talked to the school, and you’re to be Pip’s tour guide.”
I glance around before I leave the room, and catch Senior winking at Kieran. Kieran’s head is away from me, so I don’t see how he reacts. Whatever. I storm out of there.
2
Kieran: Posh School
If this is how posh kids dress, then I’d rather be wearing my old worn-out clothes and beat up runners. I reach up and attempt to stick a finger in the space between my collared shirt and my neck. Fucking hell, this tie is like a noose. I can barely breathe.
I glance around reception, where I’m waiting. The windows are clear and there is student artwork hanging on the walls — and not bad student artwork either, but the kind that wins awards. The air smells like expensive flowers. From this room alone, it’s clear how nice this school is.
The receptionist has disappeared from behind the desk, and no one else is around, so I unbutton the top button of my shirt and loosen my tie. Much better.
This morning, Senior showed me how to wear my uniform. He demonstrated how to iron everything and I bit my tongue from telling him I knew how to iron stuff and Jesus, do I have to iron my uniform every morning? Then he asked me if I knew how to tie a tie and when I said no, he smiled and showed me. He was kind about that, but it still made me feel embarrassed. I didn’t even know how to tie a basic Windsor knot (which is a pretentious as hell name for a tie), so how the heck am I expected to study here for the next three terms?
Five minutes pass. The receptionist returns and smiles at me. She was the one who told me to wait here for my “buddy” to arrive. Do I need a buddy? How hard can it be to go to class like a normal person? I think about the Windsor knot. Yeah, maybe I need a buddy.
But, the knowledge of who my buddy is makes me not very enthusiastic about seeing him for a second time. And he’s late. Another five minutes pass. Then another.
The receptionist leans over the desk. “I’m not sure why Jasper’s not here. He’s usually very punctual.”
“Right,” I reply.
“He’s the school captain, you know.”
Is that supposed to impress me? “Right,” I repeat.
I take my phone out and fiddle with it, though there’s not much to do. I’m just about to download a game when the building’s automatic doors open.
“Good morning,” a pleasant male voice says to the receptionist.
I turn around in my chair to see who’s come in, although I already know the answer.
“Good morning, Jasper,” the receptionist replies. “Kieran’s sitting just here.”
Jasper arrives before me, and the plain yet pleasant expression on his face disappears as he runs a critical eye over me, from the top of my head to the bottom on my new black shoes.
