Problem Children

Chapter Twenty Three

Mrs. Young scrubbed the afternoon dishes with a tune in her head. One that craved attention, but not one she knew all the words to, so she hummed it instead. Angus knew all the words from hearing it on the family radio so many times every evening but he didn't have nightly sewing to distract himself. He learned it rather quickly. Of course, he'd never sing it aloud.

He drank the last of his milk, inhaling every last drop. His mother would always reprimand him, but it seems he never heard her. The humming stopped and a look was sent his way, but Angus only set the cup down when he was finished. The cup was set on the table and the straw fiddled with when Malcolm walked through the front door with his guitar case. A bundle of tissues was removed from his pocket and set in front of his brother.

"Really got me today, this one," Malcolm smiled. "Every last one of those, soaked."

"Fuckin' gross," Angus whispered, shoving them away from him. Taking a glance at his mother it was evident she hadn't heard his word usage. One by one the tissues were picked up and placed in the trashcan and the sink was now washing hands along with dishes. When he had finished, Malcolm returned to the table, resting his arm on a chair. "You go practice again?"

"Little bit," he answered. "Can't come up with one good song among us, it's like they have no experience whatsoever."

"It's your band," Angus replied. "Tell them to piss off and let you work it out." His brother scoffed and picked at the chair with his fingernail.

"I'd have done that by now if I wouldn't get my ass kicked."

"Malcolm," his mother warned. He turned his head.

"Sorry, Mum." Angus snickered at the look Malcolm gave him. "You've seen them all, right? Yeah well, I'm not gonna chicken out of a fight, but I ain't startin' one with those gorillas either. You though, you look like you could go for a match again. Your eye isn't as purple anymore."

"What color is it now?" Malcolm squinted as he gazed over Angus' smug face.

"Little yellow, little red."

"Red?" Angus asked alarmed.

"Glowing like a demon." A smile replaced his panic. "You may not have a band yet, Ang, but be glad you're not in mine. They'd drive you nuts."

"I wouldn't join your band if you paid me," Angus chuckled. "Though if you want to pay me anyway with your wages...any gigs soon?"

Malcolm moved the hair from his face. "No good ones. Just one at the club down the road and..." He looked behind him at his mother and leaned in. "the private school outside of town."

"But that's a girl's school-"

"Shh, I know. We're playin' a few songs, then leavin', as the girls have to get back to class."

"How'd you land that one?"

"Drummer knows a guy." An apple was taken from a bowl on the table and sneezed on. "Shit." Angus laughed. Malcolm took a bite anyway. "You goin' to Hannah's?" It was Angus' turn to shush his brother. "What?"

"No." His straw continued to be fiddled with.

"Why not?" A frown and a shrug. "Why not?" he pressed with a whisper. "You can tell me, Mum's not listenin'."

"Go away."

"Ang, why not?" Malcolm pushed away Angus' hands that attempted to wave him off. "It's Thursday, time's runnin' out-"

"What does Thursday have to do with anythin'?"

"If you talked to her, you'd know." The shoving got worse as neither boy gave up the fight. It was difficult to keep up the whispering as well. "Stop!"