The silence is unbearably loud as Will lowers the hand that was holding the phone.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to listen in.’
‘No, it’s OK.’
‘Kit?’ I ask, unnecessarily. Will nods. ‘What’s happened?’
He gives a long, quiet sigh. I come closer and sit beside him.
‘Will . . .’
‘His dad,’ he says, not looking at me. And I understand. The other day, Kit showed up to school after the last rugby match of the season with a black eye. When he’s not even on the rugby team.
‘Shit,’ I say quietly.
‘Yeah.’ He gulps. ‘It is.’
‘What did his dad do?’
‘It’s always the same. Things get tense, they argue, and every time he drinks, it escalates.’ Will’s hands are clenched into fists but he doesn’t move. ‘Then, when he’s sober again, he’s really sorry, apologizes a thousand times, but it doesn’t last. Kit’s trying to spend as little time at home as possible.’
‘Where was he last night?’ I ask.
‘He slept in the old greenhouse.’ Will laughs mirthlessly. ‘It must have been freezing. Shit . . . It’s so stupid – why didn’t he tell me?’
‘He probably didn’t want you to worry.’
‘Yeah, that’d be like him.’
‘So Henry’s got the key to your room for him?’ I guess.
Will nods. ‘I had a kind of feeling it would be a good idea for Kit to have somewhere to go in an emergency. Henry was chatting to him the other day, asked if he was OK, and he told him then.’
‘But they didn’t go to Mrs Sinclair?’ I blurt. Will shrugs. ‘Why not?’
‘Kit didn’t want to. I dunno . . . What could she do anyway?’
‘Call the police?’ I wish I could just snatch Will’s phone and call them myself.
‘No, Tori. It’s his decision. I’ll talk to him again as soon as I get back. Maybe by then he’ll be ready to speak to Mrs Sinclair.’
‘Want to head back early?’ I ask. ‘I could tell Mum and Dad I’ve forgotten an important bit of homework.’
‘Tori, that’s . . .’
‘No, seriously.’
‘I know, but there’s no need.’ He looks at me. ‘Or doyouwant to go back today?’
My throat tightens a wee bit as I feel Will’s eyes rest heavily on me.
I don’t want to because it’s nice to spend time at home. But at the same time, it’s way easier to ignore certain things there than here.
‘D’you think it was just a slip-up?’ I ask quietly, instead of answering Will’s question. I don’t have to be more specific. He knows what I mean.
‘Stop. I can’t think about it.’ Will buries his face in his hands. When he lifts his head again, he asks quietly, ‘She came in to you last night, didn’t she?’
I nod. ‘But not to you?’
