Page 101 of Begin Again Again

He liked how she swore. Liked that she thought she was a bit tough when she was as intimidating as that puppy that turned in circles to Total Eclipse of the Heart. Whenever she pretended to be angry, he wanted to pick her up and hold her. He’d done just that a week ago, tumbled her onto him in bed. “Yes, Bethany, you big girl. Be angry! Grr!”

She’d punched him in the stomach and he’d grabbed her fist and kissed it. “Yes! Rage out, Horoscopes! More punching! Grrr! Grrr!”

Byron smiled into the night, like a dork. Then he remembered Beth was gone, and it melted away. Had she gone home? She’d said her touch team were playing minigolf; maybe she’d met them somewhere. Maybe she was drinking with that Josh guy.

Beth doesn’t drink.

He turned up the music and realised what he was listening to—“Home” by Teddy Cream. A bit too ironic for what he was doing. He turned it over to The Bloody Beetroots.

Sal was smoking on the brick fence, a stuffed sports bag at their feet. To his surprise and relief, they got up as soon as they spotted him. Usually, Sal wanted to talk by the mailbox, perhaps hoping their parents would hear and come outside. Whatever had gone down, it must have been bad.

Byron parked and leaned over to open the passenger side door. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Sal flicked their butt to the ground and stamped on it.

Their dad would find it tomorrow morning and crack the shits. Byron bit back the urge to ask Sal to pick it up. “Coming?”

They hoisted their Adidas bag onto their shoulder. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Sal settled into the passenger’s seat and looked across at him. They’d taken out their nose ring and without it, his sister looked much younger. Their make up was a mess. They had smudged lips and black rings around both eyes. “Are you…?”

“I’m fine.” They pulled out their phone and dropped their gaze.

Byron accelerated, feeling that fractured sensation that followed him whenever he drove Sal away from home.

They travelled in silence for a few streets, then Byron cleared his throat. “What happened?”

They shook their head. “You won’t get it.”

“I’ll try.”

“Yeah, but it won’t matter. You’ll say something like ‘you expect too much’ or ‘you take them too personally.’”

“I won’t.”

Sal didn’t reply and he decided not to push.

“Is Derek home?” Sal asked when they pulled up in front of his house.

“Yeah.”

“Great.” They pulled a baseball cap out of their bag and jammed it on their head. It said,‘we just want to party.’The phrase above Sal’s morbid expression made him smile. “You don’t have to be nervous around Derek.”

“He doesn’t have to be nervous around me.”

“True, but—”

Sal opened their door and jumped out.

“—you could try and make an effort,” Byron finished. “Or don’t? Maybe just be a dick?”

But who was he to criticise anyone about being a dick to Derek?

Derek and Tracy were still on the couch when he and Sal walked in. They jumped apart, but Derek’s hand was still jammed up Tracy’s top. Did the dickhead want to get busted or something? Byron rubbed his forehead. “Hey, guys.”

“Um hi,” Tracy said, wriggling backward.

“Hi,” Derek added, flexing his fingers.

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