My stomach flips over, like I’m going to be sick. My stomach’s being doing that a lot recently.
Curtis softens. “I’m sorry for laughing,” he says in a quiet voice. “You’re right. It must have hurt, especially when you were in such an emotionally vulnerable position.”
I dip my chin in a nod.
“But, Jasper, you’re one of the smartest people in our year level, and since we’re in Year 12, that makes you one of the smartest people in the school.”
“So? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, look at what happened from their perspective. You said stuff about them cooking drugs.”
“They said it first. It was a joke.”
“You asked them, straight up, if they’d dealt drugs before,” Curtis continues.
“Well.” At the time, I was thinking of what Fin told me, months ago, that Kieran was expelled for selling drugs and then beating up a heap of kids. I didn’t think it was true, but I had to make sure.
Curtis rubs the bridge of his nose. “I know you’re a good person.”
“Why do I feel you’re going to imply that I’m not?”
“I don’t think you do it on purpose,” he says, words slow and gentle, as if explaining something to a child. “You’re just focused on yourself, but sometimes it seems like you forget that…that other people have feelings too.”
Silence stretches out between us.
“Basically,” I say, “you’re saying that I’m a narcissistic sociopath.” Great.
“Jasper, that’s not what I’m saying —” Curtis begins, but I’m not listening to him.
I’m thinking of everything I said in Kieran’s bedroom, and my guts feel as if they’re tying themselves in knots. I think of every shitty thing I said to him, from the moment we stood across from each other in Senior’s reading room.
Fuck.
15
Kieran: Anything Less
“Turn right at Crawford Street,”my phone says in a robotic female voice.“Continue for a hundred metres.”
I look up from the map on my screen. There are homes like Senior’s, old-fashioned cottages with quaint front gardens, and then there are homes like the ones on this street. Every single house is a mansion, either double or triple story, with front gardens big enough to be a park. Behind one mansion, I see several tall black poles with lights at the top. It’s a tennis court. Someone has a whole tennis court in their backyard.
“Your destination is on your right,” my phone says. Right. Of course, Jasper’s home is the mansion with the tennis court.
I’ve been in the car while Senior dropped off Jasper before, but I never paid much attention to Jasper’s home, and it’s not as if I could see anything past the tall stone fence.
I walk up to the front gate and press the intercom.
“Hello?” a woman’s voice answers after a few seconds.
“Hi, it’s Kieran. Kieran Phillips. Senior sent me —”
“Ah, yes, Senior told me. I’ll let you in now,” she says.
The gate makes a clicking noise and swings open when I push it. I walk down a stone path lined with a trimmed hedge towards the ridiculous house.
It’s double story, made of pale grey stone, the same shade as the fence, and there are several huge windows that reflect the blue sky. Jasper lives here with only his sister. I don’t know how only the two of them can deal with living in such a large place.
The front door swings open just as I arrive on the front doorstep. A woman stands inside the house and smiles. “I’m Juliet,” she says, sticking a hand out. She looks like she’s in her mid-twenties and has the same shade of light brown hair as Jasper. It’s tied up in a long shiny ponytail and she’s wearing name-brand athleisure. “It’s nice to meet you, Kieran. Senior’s told me a lot about you,” she continues when I shake her hand.
