Page 141 of I Can't Even Think Straight

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and write lyrics

for his folk punk band.

He’s something different.

He’s a breath of fresh air.

I lift Obi’s hand in mine.

Vass smiles and nods. They understand.

I turn to Obi. “Okay,” I say,

“let’s go to your bedroom.”

Sunday: More Than Friends—Mum’s Market Stall

“You’re making it sound so weird,”

I whisper to Matt, covering my face

and feeling my flushed cheeks.

“That’s because it is weird,” Matt whispers back.

“You were locking lips with Obi upstairs,

with a satanic ritual going on downstairs.”

“Maybe, but you don’t have to say it like that,”

I protest through gritted teeth.

Matt’s wearing his church clothes.

If Mum gets back with our breakfast baps

before Matt has to go, I know she’ll go on

about how handsome Matt looks.

Matt grips the lapels of his blazer.

He stands upright and looks down at me.

All of a sudden, he looks like a Big Man,

and I know what he’s about to do.

He’s about to become Pastor Matthew.

“What shall become of you,

Malachi Michaelides?”

I crease over with laughter

and when I recover, I look up at Matt.

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