CHAPTER 34
MYLES
“Fuck,” I hiss at my phone, the text I just opened by accident glaring up at me. My thumb was in the wrong place at the wrong time. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Beau
I don’t know where you’re hiding but this is getting daft mate.
Now that I’ve opened it, I decide to read the entire thread of grey messages I’ve neglected. He can see I’ve read it anyway.
Beau
I think we need to talk.
I said some shit I don’t mean and want to apologise. You’ve been my best friend for five years and I’m not about to throw that away because you fancy my sister.
Or love her, or whatever.
I’ve been a dick about it all and I’m sorry, okay?
Dude answer your phone.
This is so dumb. I feel like the scorned lover.
I hope you know Shez is raging. Mostly at me because she thinks you left her because of what I did. That probably is the reason you’ve buggered off but that’s not cool, mate. I made her cry in the middle of the box at the game yesterday. And I promised I was gonna fix it and I intend to uphold that. So answer me fucker.
Myles!
ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE
istg if you’re dead in a ditch somewhere I’ll never forgive you.
I think I’m getting repetitive strain injury in my thumb joints because of you.
Fortunately I don’t need my hands to play football.
This is so fucked up mate. Please just talk to me. Shez will never admit it to me cause she’s weird and private and whatever but she’s devastated about all this mate. I can see it all over her face. She tries to hide it with whatever but she’s really sad. If you wanted to say fuck you to me you should’ve stayed with her.
She’s the best thing to ever happen to you. Best girl in the world. Well, on par with Brin and Mum obvs. Can’t show favourites. But you’ve fucked up by leaving. Brin said she’s incandescent. Whatever that means.
We’re gonna fix our bro mess and then I’m gonna make you grovel on your fucking knees for abandoning her. Be prepared to look like a tit. A bigger one than you already do.
oh my god you stubborn prick just ANSWER ME
Never mind Nash and his poxy left hook, I’m gonna beat you senseless when I see you.
GET YOUR HEAD OUT YOUR ASS MAN
You’re a royal arsehole Myles.
That was the last text he sent before this morning’s attempt. Another comes through as I reach the bottom.
Beau
I SEE YOU READING YOU BASTARD
I decide to reply with the first thing that comes to my head.
Me
She’s not weird.
The little grey dots start pulsing.
Beau
HE’S ALIVE
What??
Me
Sheridan. She’s not weird.
Beau
Seriously??? Out of all that, THAT’S what you focussed on?
You dickhead. You’re so whipped, and yet you left her. Idiot.
Me
This coming from the man who made her feel like crap for dating his friend. Yeah, sure. I’m the idiot.
Beau
I AM TRYING TO APOLOGISE
Me
YOU ARE NOT DOING A VERY GOOD JOB AT IT.
I don’t get a reply. Instead, my phone starts ringing obnoxiously in my hand with Beau’s stupid face filling the screen.
“What?” I snap, accepting his first call in months.
“I’m sorry,” Beau whines.
“You are such a prick, Beaumont,” I tell him.
“Oh, fuck off, you know that’s not my name. And I know I’m a prick, okay? I have had the sentiment relayed to me repeatedly over the past two weeks, you really don’t need to remind me.”
“I could lose my job because of you and your insane brother! I never thought having feelings for a girl would somehow wind up with a broken nose and a suspension from my job!”
“If I could get hold of Nash to tell him how much of a moron he is, I would! But much like you, he’s off the grid somewhere. Probably beating some poor sod senseless.”
“I know Nash is off the grid because I am the poor sod he’s beating senseless.”
Beau finally takes a breath. “Oh shit. What state are you in?”
“I’ve definitely been better.”
“Mentally?”
“I’d say about sixty-five percent stable.”
“Emotionally…?”
“Oh, like two percent.”
“Fuck, Myles.”
“Fuck indeed, Beaumont.”
His exhale is weighted. “Can we meet up? Go to the pub or something? I want to fix this.”
My chest squeezes painfully with nerves. I’ve been avoiding going out in public, although I’m supposed to be taking Sam bowling later. He texted to say he was bored so I said I’d take him out for a few hours and get some dinner. I’m about to tell Beau that when I realise he’ll have no idea who Sam is. And that is a tragedy.
“How about bowling?”
“…What?”
* * *
“Sir,” Sam aggressively slaps my arm with his good hand, “sir, look. Sir, that’s Beau Bennett.”
“I know it’s Beau, now stop freaking hitting me.” I bat him off with elbows and hips.
“What’s he doing here?”
“Going bowling, I’d imagine. Unless he’s got a real hankering for air hockey.” Which he is also a beast at.
“He’s looking right at us.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, maybe he thinks you’ve got a funny face.”
Sam turns a look on me that is so devastated I actually feel a bit bad. “I don’t have a funny face.”
“If you say so, mate.” I give him a patronising pat on the head.
“I don’t. Erin said puberty is doing good things to me.”
Jesus. “We are not going there right now.”
“This the lad?” Beau asks as we reach him at the bowling kiosk, glancing between Sam and I.
“Yeah. This is Sam. And Sam…well you know who Beau Bennett is. I just call him Beau, or Beaumont. Or stupid prick depending on the day.”
“Woah,” Sam says wide-eyed. “Which one do I call you by?”
Beau smirks. “Just Beau is fine, mate.”
“Okay, Just Beau.” Sam shrugs.
Now it’s my turn to smirk.
We pay—Beau pays—for a lane and three games at the kiosk and change our shoes, then find our lane and program our names in.
Naturally, when we start playing Beau can’t rein his competitive streak in and bowls a strike every throw. By the fourth round, Sam is gawking at Beau like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. I’m sure to certain members of the Ranger’s supporters he is, but I know better.
“Are you trying to impress the kid or what?” I mutter when Sam takes his next turn.
“Come on, Myles. You know I have to have every new person’s approval when I meet them. That includes fourteen year olds with jokes.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. But I didn’t put you on a pedestal with him.”
“Neither should you.”
“Oh, come on!” Sam shouts, bent over with his face in his good hand. “That was so close!” He points to the aisle, and the singular skittle sitting at the bottom.
“You’ve got another throw, mate. Get it on a spare,” I say encouragingly.
“I want a strike, not a spare!”
I give him a wide look. An image strikes me in that instant, of Saturday afternoons in autumn with Sam and Sheridan and harmless games at the shitty bowling alley. Sam losing his temper and Sheridan not making an effort because she hates sports, but we’re here for Sam so it doesn’t matter. The longing hits me hard and I feel it right in the chest like I’ve been impaled.
I shake it off.
“Alright,” I exasperate, and stand to meet him, “you’re too old for a tantrum over bowling.”
Sam eases up. “Sorry.”
“Get your spare and next throw I’ll get Beau to chuck one down for you.”
“That’s cheating!”
Beau snickers from his seat.
“Alright, fine. I’ll help fix your technique. You throw like you’re bowling on Wii Sports.”
“What’s that?”
I share a horrified look with Beau. “Never mind. It probably doesn’t help that you’ve got a broken arm.”
“I want Beau to help me.”
“Excuse me?” I blink at him.
“You’ve only bowled one strike. And your left arm isn’t even broken.”
Beau is fully cackling now.
I give up, raising my hands like a white flag. “You know what, fine. Have the footballer help you, I don’t care.” I sniff indignantly, but I’m laying it on thick. “But just so you know, he’ll sabotage you the first chance he gets.”
“I will not!” Beau retorts.
“He will,” I whisper. “Your choice.”
* * *
“So, are you gonna tell me what’s going on with the kid?” Beau asks with a raised brow.
Sam has just excused himself from our table in Nando’s to use the bathroom. We’ve finished eating.
“He’s one of my Year 9 kids. Was one. Maybe. I don’t know. He’s also in care, so I kind of…well, we talk to each other about it. His foster parents were horrible, and they’ve just sent him back to the care home. I ran into him in the hospital a few days ago and stayed with him while he got his arm sorted. Gave my number to him just in case.”
“He’s a good lad. Hopefully his next foster family are better.”
“Yeah… I’ve been doing some research into fostering,” I admit.
You never think about the other side of it when you’re a child. You just want someone to want you.
“You want to foster him?” Beau looks surprised.
“Maybe. I know what it’s like to be a teenage boy in care and I don’t want him to turn out the way I did.”
“Might have to stop getting into fights for that to happen, mate.”
“I know. I need to watch the job situation first. When it levels out, I’ll put a bit more thought into it.” My chest is aching again, and I rub it with my fist. “He asked to come with me if I move and I don’t think I could ever say no, because everyone said no to me.”
“Fuck, Myles.” Beau sits back and rubs his face. “You can’t leave.”
“I don’t want to stay here if I lose my job, Beau. With you, and Sheridan here… Hell, all of you frickin’ Bennetts, it’s painful.”
“Brinsley does want to murder you, to be fair.”
“Comforting.”
“You brought that on yourself, mate.”
“I know.” I wave him off. “Everything is fucked. But right now, I’m thinking about Sam and that’s my priority.”
Beau nods thoughtfully. “I get that. I do. I’m sorry I fucked everything up, though. And I’m working on Nash.”
“You can’t force someone to apologise,” I say. “I’ll take it if and when it comes, but I don’t want one if he doesn’t mean it.”
Beau continues nodding away, but he remains quiet for a minute. After a while, he says, “Are we good?”
I give it some thought. “I think we’re getting there.”