It annoys Calum that everybody thinks drugs are okay. It annoys him that if it's only weed, everybody shrugs it off. He isn't sure if his Mum has had something stronger than weed, but he sees the change in her.
"Calum, dove," she says, putting an arm around his waist. "You barely eat dinner with us anymore."
Calum wants to say something. He wants to comment that he doesn't trust her cooking anymore, and that he doesn't eat with them because it's like eating with pet rocks that want to fuck each other.
"Yeah, I've just been busy, Mum. Soccer's been hectic." He says, looking down at the soup she's made that's on the stove.
"Eat, dove."
He sighs, and takes a bowl once she's served it. He sits down, and keeps his jaw locked as he listens to his Mum's boyfriend talk. With every word he says, Calum wants to punch him more and more.
He thinks he knows everything. Knows the pain we're going through just because he got a few kicks from his Dad when he was young. Calum thinks, boiling in rage like the soup on the stove that somebody should've turned off.
Once they're done, they leave the table, their dirty dishes letting him know that they were there.
"Mum," he calls, "put your dishes in the sink, please."
She rolls her eyes. "Why do you care, anyway? I'm the one that does everything around here." She complains, putting the dish in the sink anyway.
It's like she's forgotten everything she was. It's like she doesn't know about the no-phones rule, or that you put your dishes in the sink, or that you have to clean up after yourself.
"We're going out for a drink," his Mum says, putting her hand through his hair. "Be a good boy and clean up a little, would you?"
Calum's so upset that he doesn't even speak. As soon as the door shuts, he throws his bowl at it, and puts his head in his hands.
Michael's still in his room. He has to remind himself, so he doesn't go completely off his nut, even though there's soup splatter all over the door, now.
Michael comes out, frowning. "Hey, Calum," he says softly, smiling a tiny bit. Michael straddles him, taking his hands away from his face. "Don't cry, baby, it's okay."
Calum puts his hands on Michael's hips, looking down at their laps, trying not to cry. The bleached blond puts his hands on the Maori's cheeks, wiping the tears away.
"Come stay at mine," Michael whispers, kissing Calum's forehead.
The Maori nods, sniffing. He stands up, holding Michael in place as he walks. He puts Michael on the bed, and packs a bag for himself. The pale boy collects his tie and puts his shoes back on, avoiding the mess of soup and shards of bowl on the way out.
In the cold, they walk to Michael's, and when they get there, they see Karen's car parked in the driveway. Calum looks at his best friend. "Are you sure you don't mind? Your Mum just got back."
"Shut up, you're like a part of the family." Michael says, opening the front door.
As soon as the door opens, five pairs of eyes are on them both. Michael avoids them all, and goes into his room with Calum. He'll come out when he wants to. He doesn't want to know what's happening yet.
Once the door is shut, Michael takes apart a computer. Calum looks at him, and sees him clearly stressing because his mother's back, and she was with a kid, this time.
