It opens to reveal my sister grinning up at me, half a unicorn painted on her face.
“What’s all this about?” I sign, trying to give her a stern look.
She just rolls her eyes; she knows I’m never mad at her.
“The Beckford High carnival is today,” she says. “We’re raising money for Headspace.”
I arch a brow, signing, “You had to wake me up at the crack of dawn with Jade’s God-awful singing?”
“Hey!” Jade, who’s been following our conversation in the mirror, shoots me a withering glare.
Amelia laughs at the disgruntled look on her friend’s face, and my grin widens.
Amelia was born with genetic non-syndromic progressive hearing loss. By age eight, she needed hearing aids. By fourteen, they were no longer effective. Now, eighteen and profoundly deaf, she communicates using a combination of spoken language and Auslan. While she can speak fluently, she can’t hear and depends on lip reading and sign language to understand others.
She hasn’t let it stop her from doing anything though, and while I may be over protective of her at times, she’s extremely confident and takes no shit.
“Are you coming to the carnival?” she asks, a hopeful expression on her face.
To be honest, I’d planned on wallowing in bed for a few hours, then thought I’d head to the gym to work off my frustration, but I can never say no to my sister.
“I’ll come if Jade stops singing,” I sign.
Jade sticks out her tongue. “Don’t be such an arsehole, Zac.” She points at me and signsarseholefor Amelia’s benefit.
“Pancakes for breakfast?” I sign, laughing when she gives me a look that screams there’s only one possible response to that question. “No problem, short stack.”
My sister smiles sweetly before sliding the door closed in my face.
Shaking my head, I throw a shirt on and headdownstairs to the kitchen, where Mum and Dad are having breakfast.
“Morning, son,” Dad greets as I head straight for the coffee machine. “Bad luck on the game last night.”
I grimace at the reminder. We lost our first game of the season one-nil to our biggest rivals, BHU, and our captain and centre-back let me know in no uncertain terms that he thought it was my fault. Never mind that the goal that slipped past my line was a direct result of his square ball. Every footballer worth his salt knows you don’t pass the ball across goals, especially against a striker as good as Avi Sinclair. Even Alisson Becker wouldn’t have predicted the cheap shot I missed by a split second.
Noah Bentley is a giant fucking pain in my arse. I don’t know what his problem with me is. He hasn’t let up on me since our number one goalkeeper, Mitch Peters, popped his shoulder at the end of last year and I took over the position. Actually, if I think about it, his issues with me started long before that, though I’ve barely had anything to do with him, preferring to stick to myself. Douchebag.
“There are ten other players on the pitch, honey,” Mum says when I don’t respond, too caught up in my head over my arsehole teammate. “It’s not all on the keeper when the opposition scores. Your teammates need to work harder so you’re not the last line of defence.”
“Nailed it on the head, Mum,” I reply, shooting her a wry grin. “Bentley shouldn’t have fucked up with the square ball.”
“Language,” she scolds me, but there’s no fire in it. I’m pretty lucky to have the most chilled parents on the planet.
“What are your plans for today?” Dad asks as I pull out the ingredients for my famous blueberry and choc chip pancakes.
I shrug. “Milly asked me to stop by the carnival, so I’ll go check it out.”
“With Erica?” Mum pries, placing their breakfast dishes in the sink. “She hasn’t been over to the house lately.”
“Nah, that fizzled out,” I tell her, tossing a blueberry into my mouth.
“That’s a shame. She was nice.”
“Yeah, she was.” But nice didn’t get me all hot and bothered. Apparently, only closeted arseholes get me hard at the moment.
“You’ll meet the right person one day.” She smiles and winks. “You’re a catch.”
“Thanks, Mum.” I laugh as they leave the kitchen to get ready for their day.
