The Boy Next Door (Crewt)

New faces

 That afternoon, after dinner (sausages and vegies) I went to my room to read my vet book while my parents watched TV. I was absorbed in the anatomy of a horse when the front door opened and slammed shut. I rolled over and called out,

'Mum?'

'Yes?'

'Dad?'

'He's gone out, hun.'

Brows knitted, I heaved myself off the creaking bed and strolled to the front door, looking out at the twilit yard.

'Where's he going?' I called to mum in the living room.

'Next door of course,' my mum replied absent-mindedly. I whipped around and stalked into the living room. And stared disbelievingly at my mum, who was watching the television rapturously.

'What? Why is he going there?' I said. My mum tutted.

'I thought you wanted to intervene for that poor boy. Your dad insisted he would go next door for a word with mrs barebone.'

That was enough for me. What would Credence think if my dad came over and told his mother off? Credence expected me to keep my mouth shut, and I didn't think I could stand it if he thought I'd betrayed his trust.

I hurled myself from the room, ignoring my mum's surprised call, yanked open the front door and raced down the stairs. I pelted across the lawn next door, seeing the orange glow of an open doorway ahead, and...my dad's silhouette. Intending to stop him, I ran across the garden, but too late: my dad raised his fist and had already knocked on the door three times before I reached him. I cursed as I almost ran head-long into his back. Dad twirled around to stare at me, reprimanding,

'Newt, don't use that language around here! What are you doing? Don't worry, I'll handle it-' I shook my head vigorously,

'No dad! Why are you here? I talked to Credence already, and he doesn't want us to do anything! Quick, we have to get out of here before Mrs Barebone comes-'

'Don't be ridiculous, Newt-' I grabbed my dad's arm in a plea as the sound of heels echoed up the hallway,

'Just ask to speak to Credence, we can't confront Mrs Barebone, it'll tear their family apar-' The door opened, and I fell into embarrassing silence. Mrs Barebone stood in what looked like Sunday best dress, a crisp white apron tied over the top and a wooden spoon in her manicured hand. She stared down her nose at me for a second, before turning to my dad. He stuck out his hand, saying brightly,

'Hi, we're from next door.' It took the cow a second to take my dad's hand delicately.

'Hello,' she said carefully.

A million options flickered before me in quick succession, each as desperate as the last: I couldn't tell my dad to come back home in the middle of conversation. I couldn't apologise to Mrs Barebone and say it was a mistake. Frantically thinking, my dad had already moved straight on to the point:

'Miss,' he began formally, 'I wanted to talk to you about something that happened last night.' Her eyes narrowed into slits.

'And what would that be?' She asked imperiously. It was time to intervene. I positioned myself just in front of my dad,

'Nothing, Mrs Barebone, it's just that Credence left his...ah...' I floundered. What'd he leave? God, I should've thought this through: it was already too suspicious. I didn't know what to say, so I gave up with an exasperated sigh, praying my dad would stay silent as I blatantly lied, 'I only wanted to...ah, talk to Credence,' I finished lamely.