Heart Of Gold

2 - Aerin.

2 - Aerin.

I'm not a magician. I'm not a therapist. I can't calm people down and I certainly can't put them at ease. I fuck everything up. I lose control. I think after I act. So I don't know why my brothers keep coming to me for advice.

It's two a.m, and Keane still has the lamp switched on in between mine and his bed as he sits with his arms around his knees, staring at me. On my other side, Reuben is lying on his side with his eyes fixed on the wall, facing me. I regret the day that I chose the middle bed.

Rubbing my eyes, I roll onto my front and shield my eyes from the harsh light. My brother Keane is such a wimp, and for the past hour he's been questioning me about high school since he's starting Year Seven. "Go to sleep," I groan.

"But," Keane grunts in a sort of high, urgent way if that is possible. It makes me look at him, as I feel the irritation practically rolling off my face. "You'll say hi to me, in the corridors. Right?"

"Right," I agree in a monotone. "So will Reuben."

I get a snort from my other brother, who is now also sat up. "Huh, sure."

I glare at him, and he rolls his eyes.

"Look, they know that you're our younger brother. They know that we'll kick their head in if they say anything to you, or do anything to you, Keane. Stop fretting." Reuben adopts the tough-gangster-brother look on his face, and I think he is trying to comfort our younger brother, but Keane just looks even more terrified.

"You'd do that?"

Reuben facepalms. "For fuck's sake-"

"Watch your mouth," I snap at him immediately, before resting my hands behind my head and staring up at the ceiling. My back is aching, as usual. It's from all the running around. Riding around. Messing around. Fighting.

"You can't talk," Reuben scowls. He's fifteen so he thinks he knows everything. If he didn't have the sweetest, most innocent girlfriend ever, and if he didn't get great marks at school, I'd be punching his lights out daily.

Keane is starting Year Seven. I'm starting the last year of Sixth Form at our school. Reuben's going into Year Eleven. They're all big years, and we all know we can't fuck up.

"Honestly, Keane." I turn on my side to face him. "Within a few days you'll have met a pretty crowd of girls who are all falling at your feet, and your friends'll be there too. Everyone likes you so there isn't anything to worry about."

He gulps, and then lies back down, switching the light off. "Okay." His voice hasn't broken yet, so he sounds kind of like a little kid even though he's not that small. I guess he still is a little kid - he's still eleven.

But I think back to when I was eleven and how people viewed me - I'd hang out with girls who were already spraying their legs and faces with orange stuff and I'd hang out with the boys that had expensive trainers, and patterns shaved into their hair, and we'd answer back to teachers and I'd think I was cool, when surrounded by the school walls.

But at home I worked until I couldn't stand, helping Reuben and Keane with their primary school homework as I did mine, which just got harder, and running down to the shops through the rain to get our mother painkillers for her stupid hangovers. I knew more than ever now that I was the man of the house, ever since grandma had died in the last few months of Year Six, and I was in charge even more now that I'd started secondary school.

Reuben quickly toughened up, but up until now, Keane is the little kid out of the three of us, the one that's the most sensitive. The one that's okay with seeking safety in other people, the one who still has hope for our mum even though she lies in bed all day.