kept in good spirits. His aggressive streak didn’t make him a bully – he never picked on the school’s handful of geeks and weirdos. He knew too well how it felt to be a victim, although his friends would never have guessed that.
It was summer, a time of year that Kendall hated. It was always stifling in the classrooms, where the open windows were the only source of ventilation and the heat of the day seemed to loiter in the air, wrapping the passages in a warm haze. The outside quads and fields offered no respite – the sun blazed down, burning his face and neck, and the heat-soaked tar scalded his backside when he sat down. Justin, on the other hand, was happiest in the summer term. Summer meant short-sleeve shirts, sport and longer days to spend with his friends. In Kendall’s mind, his aversion to the season just increased the gulf between him and his brother.
It was hot, so Kendall waited politely underneath the pine tree by the school’s front gate for his brother to finish kissing his girlfriend. He wasn’t exactly sure what this one’s name was, because there seemed to be a different one each week. She was prettier than the last girl, and had a black ponytail that bounced up and down as she talked. She probably had the personality of a rattlesnake, but his brother knew how to handle girls – he just passed from one to the next without getting too emotionally involved.
Justin strolled over to his brother, grinning cheekily.
“How long have you been with her, then?” Kendall asked nodding towards the girl who kept glancing at Justin to see if he would look back.
“Two days,” he replied. “Is she looking?”
“Yes.”
Justin grinned. “Okay, let’s go home.”
They crossed the road without looking back, Justin giving his brother some sage advice about girls. “You act as if you have no interest in them whatsoever, and it drives them mad.”
“What’s her name?” Kendall asked.
“Michelle. I met her at Simon’s house on Saturday. She seems alright?”
Kendall shrugged. He had no idea what characteristics in a girl made her alright. Justin lit a cigarette. “Did Mr Hawkins give you any more grief about that Satanism crap?”
Kendall laughed and pushed his hair behind his ears. “He did, actually. He got hold of me after geography and said that next time someone wants to speak to me, I should think twice about setting my brother on them.”
“What the hell was that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. That guy is a jerk.”
“Screw him.” Justin spat as they walked down a familiar street with its neat row of identical houses.
They reached their street and the boys unconsciously slowed down. “You going out tonight?” Kendall asked, looking at his nails.
“No, I don’t think so. You want to do something?”
“Yeah, I don’t have much homework or anything.”
“Okay, cool.”
Justin started whistling. It had a nervous high-pitched sound. They had reached their house, and it looked as if their father was home early.
Mullins family dinner
Dinner at the Mullins house was never a pleasant experience.
Gregory Mullins loved his family very much, but he wasn’t at all accepting of his son, something he put down to that oddball child they had adopted, who’d turned out to be nothing but trouble. Boys were supposed to look after themselves; that was something his father had taught him. Gregory had fought in the war on the border, and it dismayed him that his sons would never have the same experience. His own son had always been a good boy, but Kendall was fast becoming a bad influence; he could see it happening under his nose.
The family was seated at the dining-room table as Debbie Mullins walked around placing a plate in front of each of the Mullins men. She had an aggrieved, watery face that came from being married to a man like Gregory Mullins for too long. It worsened with every passing year.
Kendall hated dinnertime. He knew his dad didn’t like him that much, so he usually tried to keep out of his way. But at the dinner table, he had no choice but to put up with whatever came his way. His mother was no help either; she was more petrified of Gregory than he was.
Justin was staring at the ceiling wishing that dinner would just start and end, so that he could go to his room and test out a demo game on his PlayStation. He thought his family, with the exception of his adopted brother, was an incredible waste of his time. He nodded his head as he thought of a song he had just played on his iPod. His father had banned him from listening to music at the table. Justin knew it was only because his father resented the fact that he was now working weekends and could buy his own things. He smiled as he remembered the bitter battle over his job. Justin had won that day.
The ritual began. Debbie remained standing as she served everyone, first her husband, then Justin, then Kendall and finally herself. She had spent most of that afternoon preparing dinner just as her husband liked it. Roast chicken legs, sweet carrots and mashed potatoes with peas, because it was Tuesday. He liked having chicken on a Tuesday.
“It’s about time you cut that fringe,” Gregory said as he began cutting into his chicken leg.
The first shot had been fired, and the target was Justin. The table remained silent except for the squeaking of cutlery.
Justin wasn’t eating. He was concentrating too hard on his next move. Kendall looked at his brother, and their eyes met across the table. They understood the game only too well. Their father would take a shot at each boy in turn, and they would deflect the attack with whatever carefully constructed arguments they could come up with. Gregory would inevitably settle on Kendall, accuse him of some ridiculous fancy he’d imagined during the day, lose his temper, break a few plates and storm out of the room. Sometimes the plates survived, but otherwise it was pretty much the same nearly every night of the week.
The boys would go to their respective rooms, sometimes each other’s if the altercation had been particularly violent, and their mother would clean up the mess.
Gregory glanced up at his son from across the table and waited. His moustache waggled as he chewed slowly and methodically. His expression was unreadable. He could have been enjoying himself, he could be feeling no emotion at all.
Justin began to sweat. “It only looks long because I have just washed it.” He knew the response sounded weak, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He almost always quavered under his father’s gaze.
“If it looks too long, it is too long. Kendall’s hair is almost down to his damn arse. You both look like idiots.”
Scrape. Squeak.
Kendall really felt sorry for his brother. Justin was one of most popular boys in his grade and he deserved it. He was smart and funny and handsome. He didn’t deserve this.
Gregory threw down his knife and fork, spilling gravy and chicken on the freshly pressed tablecloth.
“This nonsense has gone on long enough. Debbie, fetch the scissors.”
The
