Page 57 of Hired Help

Everett shrugs. “You’ve fallen out of touch, haven’t you? Maybe he wanted to see you.”

I push my plate away, closing my eyes and rubbing my hand over my face. “Pity he didn’t phone first.”

“Does he still have your number?”

The reasonableness of my friend is not what I’m in the mood for. I want to throw axes at targets or try to punch a bag into oblivion. “He does but even if he didn’t, he could call Mum for it. It’s hardly a state secret.”

“And would you have taken his call?”

“I don’t know because he didn’t give me that chance, did he?” My voice dismisses the volume control to come out far louder than it should at this time of the morning. “There aren’t any missed messages from before the dance saying, ‘Heads up, son, but I’m taking your girlfriend to the ball then fucking her into oblivion afterwards.’” I pull the device out and toss it across the table to him. “Go ahead. Check.”

He slides it back to me, not showing the slightest bit of discomfort at my yelling. “I believe you.”

“And Brooke didn’t make it back to her room last night.”

He raises his eyebrow at that. “And how d’you know?”

“Slept there.”

Everett finishes eating and wipes a hand across his mouth, settling farther back, hands flat on the table, staring at me. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea to return her room key?”

I shrug. She thinks I have and I’m not about to enlighten her about the copy I had cut.

“There’s a friendly between the Merivale and Papanui teams this afternoon. Want to head down to Nunweek Park to catch it?”

“I’m busy.”

“Sulking in your room doesn’t count.” When I don’t give him anything in return, he adds, “Neither does sulking in Brooke’s room. I think it’s a good idea you two stay away from each other. What classes do you share?”

I’m reluctant to disclose that, even though he’s right. The thought of just letting go of this resentment, this anger, seems like a sweet balm. It would calm the riotous thoughts in my head, stop the never-ending twist in my gut.

But I’d never get to see her.

I understand that’s what Everett’s saying but the part of me that’s still her boyfriend, the one who thought last night about going for a late-night swim and rescuing the engagement ring so I could put it to use, he’s alarmed.

That boy is starving for sightings of Brooke.

That boy would do anything to stay near her, to change the past or, failing that, to mould her back into the girl I thought she was.

The girl who never existed outside your head.

“English class I know about, what else?”

I shift on my seat, dragging a hand through my hair and getting caught in its tangles. It needs a wash, just like the rest of me.

“I can’t just alter my entire class load because my girlfriend turned out to be a gigantic slut.”

The words are out of my mouth before I realise what they contain. My eyes dart to Everett, widening with the easy panic of a hangover; my heart thumping double time while my vision frays around the edges.

Everyone thinks I dumped her for being bad in bed. My ego can’t take the blow of people knowing the truth. Not on top of the other blows it’s still reeling from.

And Everett gives me an easy out, just like the good friend he is. “You don’t know she hooked up with anyone last night. Plenty of students booked hotel rooms, so they didn’t need to organise rides home. She’s probably looking just as crook as you, sculling water and hitting the mini bar to take the edge off.”

An excellent idea in and of itself.

“He took off without her,” Everett adds. “Michael saw him leave while Brooke was still sobbing into Floss’s shoulder. Like I said, he appeared more surprised than you.”

The information carves some of the sharper edges from my anxiety. Far more than his short text. Of course, he wasn’t about to fuck her. Not after the appalling display she’d engineered.

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