Kieran wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands up. He watches me for a second, then takes a seat at my desk.
“So, I’ve just been looking through your grades,” Dad says. “It seems exhaustion’s catching up with you.”
“Why do you say that?”
He laughs as if I’m being thick on purpose. “Your grades have declined a bit from the start of the year, haven’t they?”
“I, um. Just a minute.” I walk over to my desk and lean over Kieran as I turn the desktop on. He gives me a quizzical look, but I ignore it, instead pulling my grades portal up. Maybe there’s been a glitch and all my grades have been changed, and that’s why Dad’s calling me. But then the screen loads, and it’s my grades.
“Jasper?” Dad asks, sounding impatient.
“I’m still here. Just looking at my grades. I think they’re okay.” In fact, all of them are amazing, except for a few rogue B plusses. Usually, that’d be the end of the world for me, but I’ve been more relaxed lately, so it didn’t affect me that much. Now, though, my blood is going cold the way it always does when my parents are disappointed in me.
“But remember, you want to do the best you can,” Dad says.
“I know,” I say. “I do try my best. But it is a little bit stressful.” It’s not just my family that expects me to do well — teachers put a lot of pressure on us because they want Easton Grammar students to continue getting good results, to prove to parents that spending ten grand a year on tuition fees is worth it.
Dad makes a sound resembling sympathy. “Life is stressful, son. University will only be worse, and then you’ll get a job like mine and you’ll see what stress is really like.”
“Gee, thanks Dad. That’s super helpful.”
He’s not listening. “If you’re having problems with your mental health, talk to Juliet. She went through the same thing you did.”
“It’s not a mental health thing,” I say.
Kieran’s watching me, and I push away from the desk. I don’t want him to hear this. I walk to the bed and sit on the edge that faces away from him.
“Are you exercising?” Dad asks.
“Er,” I say. Does sex count as exercise?
“Eating healthy?”
“Yeah.”
“Keeping up with your friends?”
“Why are you asking that?”
“Because you have to remember to keep a social life. It’s your last year of high school, lots of eighteenth birthdays and such. Socialising will keep you sane. Just make sure you don’t slack off too much, though. That’s a trap some people can fall into. I remember…”
He starts a story about his high school days, and I tune him out. Telling self-indulgent stories about his youth is a trait Dad shares with Senior. I’ll wonder if I’ll be like that too, when I grow up. Telling dumb stories to my bored son, who’ll probably be named Jasper Harvey the Fourth. God, that’s a depressing thought.
“Anyway, I hope you’ll keep this all in mind,” Dad finishes. “I have to get going — I’ve got a meeting soon, but I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay,” I say. “When’s the next time you’ll call? I can never get a hold of you or Mum.”
“The company’s going through a lot of changes, so wearevery busy.”
That’s not an answer, but I know better than to push him. “Fine,” I say. “But can you tell Mum to call me?”
“Did you have something to discuss with her? I can pass on a message?”
“No. I just…miss her.” I look over my shoulder, hoping Kieran didn’t hear that. He’s staring at the grades I left on the computer screen.
“I’ll pass the message along, but Jasper, remember that your mother and I are both swamped with work. Now, I have to get going. Love you. Bye.”
He hangs up and I listen to the silence. My body feels exhausted, like I’ve just run a marathon and want nothing more to collapse.
