I glance up from my maths homework (why, Pythagoras, why?!) at the clock and see that it's 7pm. Mum and Dad have been 'talking' for an hour now, at varying degrees of volume. I finish my last question and go down stairs.
I snort with laughter when I see Heather at the closed living room door, ear pressed up against the glossy, white surface.
"What?" She says, jumping back from the door, startled.
"Nothing," I say, sauntering down the last few steps and leaning casually against the wall.
"How long has it been?" She asks.
"About an hour," I reply, glancing at the door. "What have they been saying?"
"I haven't been able to hear much except when Mum's yelling cuz they're speaking in hushed voices a lot."
"Right. May I join you?"
"Be my guest."
So Heather once again presses her ear up to the door and I do the same, except our faces are uncomfortably close together and I can feel her breath in my face. We stare at each other, both waiting for the other to move until I say, "OK, this is awkward. I'm facing the other way," and I do so. At least now she's only breathing on my hair.
We listen intently but don't hear a thing. Damn this thick door. But then Mum starts yelling again and I can pick up some words. "-you-how can- I won't-why can't you-" She shouts and the indecipherable snippets keep coming in irritating bits like that. I move away and go into the kitchen. "What are you doing?" Heather hisses at me, pulling away from the door. "Making tea," I say happily, trusting that Heather understands my plan. Of course, I overestimated her abilities once again.
"Now's not the time, idiot," She sighs. "No, it is, trust me." I growl, "If I make tea for those two and take it in, they might include us in the conversation."
"Oh, right. Well go on then!"
I knock tenderly on the door and, after no response, knock very loudly. The yelling stops (Mum yelled all through the tea-making process, which disguised the kettle noises perfectly) and Dad opens the door. I see Mum slump on the sofa, eyes red and blotchy.
"I made you tea," I state matter-of-factly, lifting the tray slightly. "And Mum, I put lemon in yours. You know, for your throat after all that 'talking'" She sighs and smiles gratefully. I enter tentatively and place the tray on the coffee table. Heather hovers uncertainly by the door as Mum and Dad take their mugs.
"So..." I begin, but at seeing Dad's face I stop and start backing out of the room and, just before closing the door, say "Have a nice 'conversation.'" "Wait," Mum says, and Heather and I simultaneously perk up hopefully. "We might be a while so here's a tenner, order some pizza." She hands us the money and shoos us out of the room. Heather looks at me disappointedly.
"Well, smart-ass, your plan failed," She sighs, "What is your brilliantly dull mind gonna think of now?"
"It didn't completely fail," I reply, transfixed by the note in my hand. "We have a tenner and my brilliant mind thinks I should buy me a mega-sized stuffed-crust pepperoni and you a kid-sized margherita."
YOU ARE READING
New Kid in America
Teen Fiction'Looking at the school from afar, it looks exactly like all the films and TV programmes. Even the people seem to act the same. Something tells me that the cool kids back home wouldn't stand a chance here, which means only one thing; I'll be eaten al...
