Only Yours

40

William's P.O.V

'You look ridiculous.'

Hamish is sitting on my bed, glaring at me as I tie my scarf and step back, looking in the mirror. 'And aren't you meant to be, like, gay?'

'Well, obviously not. I like Ellen. A lot.' I smooth back my hair and then, remembering Ellen prefers it slightly messier, ruffle it up at the front. There. Much better.

'Who even invites someone they want to shag to a fireworks party? Romantic. Not.'

'Shut up, Hammy.' I step back from the mirror and smooth down my coat. I'm wearing my 'cool' clothes instead of my normal clothes because apparently I'd be too cold in my normal suit. This meant I had to wear my only pair of dark skinny jeans, one of Hamish's t-shirts with a random band I've never heard of on the front and then a thick winter coat Victoria Armstrong gave me last week. It's nice, this coat.

And as always I have my scarf and black gloves. And my beanie.

I like my beanie.

Saphira comes in and tuts at me. 'Will, just let me do your hair, please, please???'

I shake my head at my little sister who pouts a little and I relent. I've always had a soft spot for Saphira. 'Fine.'

She brightens and runs to stand behind me, pushing me down into sitting position, and starts to comb her hands through my hair. I huff and grumble but don't try and move, just watching her in the mirror.

As Saphira sorts out my hair and Hamish attempts to unlock my phone I look at my twin siblings with wonder. Since they were born, um, twelve? Yeah, twelve years ago they've changed dramatically. Honestly, they're polar opposites, but at the same time, they're almost exactly the same. They look the same: Papa's eyes, straight brown hair, similar heights, and similar builds (slender but not as lean as Dad and I) but that's where it stops physically. Saphira has always been more popular than Hamish, better at socialising and also kinder and nicer in general. You can't help liking Saphira. Hamish is hilariously funny but in a very dry way that most people don't quite get which makes them think he's a weirdo. He's worn glasses since he was about eight or nine and he hates them.

The twins are turning thirteen in two months. They're both in year eight at Sherwood and it's strange seeing them growing up.

'What are you doing tonight?' I ask.

Saphira blushes. 'I was invited to a fireworks thing, actually.'

'By a boy.' Hamish smirks. Saphira goes even redder.

'She lurves him, Will. Spencer and Saphy, sitting in a tree, doing things they shouldn't be.' Hamish sings and Saphira turns around and snaps at him, 'Shut up, Mish. God.'

I look at my sister with half-open eyes. 'What's his name?'

'His name is Spencer Narom and he's way too old for Saphy. He's fourteen in March.'

'That's not that much older. My first boyfriend was eleven months older than me.' I say absent-mindedly, watching Hamish. His face is flushed and he's looking at his hands and glaring at Saphira.

Oh.

'What about you Hamish?' I ask. His face brightens. 'Spencer, um, I mean, Narom, invited me as well but I'm going with Dad and Jacob. I don't- I don't want to see any of my classmates. Idiots.'

I grin as I stand up, checking my watch. I'm ready to go. 'Have fun then, guys. See you later.'

'Go get 'em, tiger.' Saphira grins as I leave the room. In the sitting room Papa and Dad are cuddled up together on the sofa, Papa's head on Dad's chest, Dad's arm around Papa. They're reading a book together, Papa murmuring the words and I smile as I watch them together. It's always nice when you know that your parents love each other.