Boys Will Be Boys (v.2)

chapter seventeen - kid

chapter seventeen — kid

I COULD FEEL HIS EYES DRILLING INTO THE SIDE OF MY HEAD. I hated staying over at Dad's place. The walls smelled like an ashtray and the floor like bourbon. It was all finely misted over by the scent of an artificial home. Mum hated the scent. I avoided Dad's gaze determinedly, staring down at the dinner plate in front of me. Dad, Daniel, and Jane all had the nice silverware and plates. Jane ran out of her fine china, so I was stuck with the homely plate: with a few cracks on the edges, it reminded me of home. Mum thought fine china was useless and proudly served meals on the plates her students had painted on. They couldn't be used in the dishwasher, but Mum swore it was worth it. I didn't argue.

"You're not hungry, boy?"

I shook my head, pushing the meatloaf around with the tip of my kid-butter knife. It was short and flimsy. Daniel had a grownup butterknife, I didn't see why I couldn't. I didn't like the little knife. It made me feel stupid.

I hated Jane.

"Look at me when I talk to you"

My head snapped up, hand automatically dropping the knife as it clattered noisily onto the plate. I winced, keeping my eyes trained on Dad's disappointed face, his eyes the mirror image of mine.

"Why aren't you hungry?"

I hate you.

The thought came out of nowhere, my chest swelling with guilt. My eyes dropped back to my plate, hands forming fists in my laps before I looked up again.

"I ate earlier," I muttered, clearing my voice and repeating it again when Dad raised an eyebrow. The toe of his work shoes pushed against my sneakers under the table. He always polished his shoes. Everyday. Used to make Mum do it for him, so I guess Jane did it now.

My sneakers were white.

"Not your mother's cooking I hope," He laughed and I grimaced. At least Mum gives me a grown-up knife. Dad realized I wasn't laughing, his face freezing in his signature smile. The parents of his clients often said it was warm and welcoming. It was the reason why they chose him over the others. He was friendly. Sane.

I'd never heard his clients say the same.

"No, Lukas and I made a late lunch"

I'd never seen his clients actually.

"You hang out with Lukas a lot don't you?"

I wasn't allowed to see them.

"Kieran, look at me when I talk to you"

My head snapped up, eyes fully trained on him. I heard Jane laugh from her subordinate corner, an annoying tinkling laugh that made me want to swat her away. It sounded like she'd spent hours rehearsing for that moment: her spotlight moment before Dad snuffed her out like the rest.

"What's that su—"

"Oh, Lukas Schmitt? I know him"

And just like that, Daniel hijacked the conversation. He was only a few months older than me, the byproduct of a stupid affair, but he liked to pretend a month was a year. He'd given up trying to go for the unshaved look since Dad's genes cursed whoever dared a beard and was now stuck more-or-less in the same boat as me. Luckily enough for both of us, we'd taken after our mother's, Daniel lucky enough to be a few inches taller than me. He looked grown though. I looked like a kid. He doesn't play basketball though. I was a kid.

"He's chill, Dad"

Dad nodded thoughtfully as if Daniel's approval was necessary and welcomed.