The Sound of Water (BoyxBoy)

1

My baby half-sister, Niamh, is fighting over a box of fruit loops with my mum in the middle of the supermarket. Normally I would intervene, but I'm kinda, also, on Niamh's side for this one.

'Niamh!' My Mum exclaims, her long blonde hair flying around her face in crazy waves, 'give it here!'

I shove my hands into my pockets, returning the smile an elderly lady gives me as she walks past my mish-mashed family. The wool of my school blazer is scratchy against the skin of my neck, which is half my fault because I never wash the wool properly, just throw it in with the rest of my uniform.

I scratch my neck, tugging on the collar of my school shirt as I watch Niamh throw a box of Muesli bars at Mum's head.

'Peter!'

'Yeah, coming,' I lean over and grab the fruit loops from behind Niamh, handing them back to my Mum as I pull Niamh out of the trolley seat. I sit Niamh on my hip, focusing on calming down Niamh's screams as my Mum sort's out the mess of groceries on the floor.

Niamh's four years old and her Dad is my Step-Dad, he's called John. I really like him, he's what I imagine most Dads are supposed to be like; although, he is a little bit younger than the rest of my friend's parents.

Mum had me when she was sixteen years and four months old, so she always gets funny looks at school events. Especially parent-teacher interviews. They always think she's my sister. Which, I guess, is kind of true. We do look very much alike. Except I'm tall and she's short. Mum always says that Dad was really, like really, tall.

Dad left before I was born. I've never met him. I don't miss him, mainly because I have John. But it still kind of sucks. That he never wanted to meet me. Anyway.

I bop Niamh on the nose, smiling down at her wide brown eyes (mine are blue, like my Mum's) when she stops crying and looks at me in surprise. I glance over at Mum, who's busy stuffing healthy cereal into the trolley, then I lower my voice and whisper conspiratorially to my baby sister, 'don't worry Nim, I'll ask Mum if we can get the fruit loops.'

She giggles.

My collar is scratching my neck again, so I reach up to tug it down and absently look over to the check-out booths that line the front of the supermarket.

Jacob King, one of the boys from my year at school, is standing at the counter closest, next to a middle-aged woman who I can only assume is his Mum. He looks away when he realises I've noticed him watching me.

We have English together, but I've never really talked to him. Jacob is on the swim team and I'm on the soccer team; so we don't really operate in the same circles, you know?

I didn't know he lived on the East side of town though, most of our classmates are from the North (rich section) of town.

Niamh starts crying again, forcing me to direct all my attention back to her overly needy self. 

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