I stiffen. “What?”
“I saw Michael at the servo yesterday.”
My eyes flutter close. “Dad.”
“He was filling up that Nissan he has. Good car.”
“Dad, I don’t want to hear about Michael,” I say. The sound of his name alone makes me feel like I’ve been stabbed in the chest with a knitting needle.
“Okay. I thought you’d want to know that…he seemed happy.”
That should reassure me. It doesn’t.
Dad must sense what I’m feeling, because he says, “alright, you must be tired, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you.”
“Love you too,” I say. After I hang up, I stare at my reflection in the mirror. It feels like my guts are tangled inside me, and I don’t know why. I thought I’d gotten over Michael by now.
I grab my toothbrush and brush my teeth, shoulders hunched, body tense.
When I leave the bathroom, Jasper looks up from his phone at me. I ignore him, heading straight to my bed. Once I crawl in, I sit up to adjust the blankets around me and hit my head on the wooden bunk. “Fuck,” I hiss, palming the top of my head. I lie down, pulling the blankets over me and turn so I’m facing the wall. At least the bottom bunk creates a den of darkness. I wish Jasper would go to sleep too — the room is too bright with the lights on.
I check the time on my phone. It’s only nine o’clock.
I spend half an hour trying to fall asleep. When music plays from Jasper’s phone, I turn around. “Turn that off. I’m trying to sleep.”
“You’re sleepingnow?”
“I’m tired.” He still hasn’t turned the sound off. “Turn that shitoff. Or use your headphones.”
He turns the music off. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”
I ignore him and turn back around, so I’m facing the wall, and close my eyes.
Behind my eyelids, I see Michael’s blue eyes. He always had the most expressive eyes that went round when he was surprised, thunderous when he was angry, and dim when he was sad. He was sad the last time we spoke. I was sitting in my bedroom the day after I got expelled, and he came to visit me —
Behind me, Jasper moves, and I focus on those sounds instead of painful memories. He walks to the bathroom, and a minute later, returns, turning the light off. His bedsheets rustle when he gets into bed.
Another half an hour passes, and I’m still nowhere close to going to sleep, even though my body is tired as hell. I turn so I’m on my back. Even though the curtains are closed, some silver moonlight slips through the cracks. If I listen hard, I can hear the crackle of gum trees swaying in the wind.
From the way Jasper shifts in his bed, I know he’s still awake. He sighs every two minutes and shifts position.
“Can you not?” I snap when he moves for the millionth time.
“Not what?”
“Stop moving. It’s loud, and I’m trying to sleep,” I say. “Besides, you have the bigger bed. You should be more than comfortable.”
“Are you going to argue with me about our sleeping arrangements now? Maybe you could have chosen this bed first if you paid for it.”
Senior’s the one paying for the room, not Jasper, but that’s a moot point. Jasper’s entitled to have the better bed. We both know it.
“I’m going to pay Senior back,” I say.
Jasper scoffs, and I fist my sheets. “What?” I say.
“That’s cute.”
“I am.”
