Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [23]
The water jug is on the wheelie table. Declan can reach it himself. He wiggles the cup at me anyway.
Be a doll, I think to myself.
This is the beginning of the new era. Every day for the rest of our relationship I will have to fetch for him, and watch Donnie Darko, and listen to Dashboard Confessional, or Belle and Sebastian, probably all at the same time.
I fold my arms. 'What are you going to do – lapse into a coma?'
'I could, you know, at any minute.'
Bryce Cole ducks his head in through the doorway. 'C'mon, JB. Let's head off.'
'I have to go now,' I tell Declan, turning on my heel.
He wiggles his cup frantically. 'Don't forget it was your shandy that nearly killed me! Jenna-Belle? I'm really sick! Forever!'
'My shandy saved your life,' I say, and I flounce out the door. I'm new to flouncing. I like it. I'll do it more often.
On the way home Bryce Cole stops at the TAB. He leaves the radio on in the car for me to listen to.
'Five minutes,' he promises.
I wind down the window and watch him push open the glass door.
There are counters running down either side of the TAB for filling in forms, like a bank, and multiple television screens, the same as at the track. There's a betting booth behind metal bars at the end of the shop.
Bryce Cole scans the televisions for a minute and places a few bets. He leans against the bench and watches the screen. There are no chairs in there. I think that's a mistake. People would bet more if their feet weren't hurting.
I fiddle with the radio until I find a song that I like. I settle back on my headrest and close my eyes. After three songs, I look out the window again. Bryce Cole is watching the television with his arms folded. He refers to the newspaper that someone has left on the counter, then to his notebook. He fills in a betting slip, places the bet at the booth, and watches the screens.
It's weird having to wait without something to do. My dad's car had a DVD player, and before that we had Nintendo, and our iPods, and even before that Mum used to play us talking books.
The worst part was waiting in airports. Dad confiscated our iPods when we flew because Will didn't believe that an iPod would really interfere with the plane's navigation system, and so one time he did an experiment and hid it under his hoodie, and the flight attendant got on the microphone, all shirty, repeating the part of his speech about electronic devices. He said it three times before Dad realised it was Will. He was trying to make Will turn it off without anyone else seeing, but a fat, irritable businessman pressed his call-bell and dobbed. So then the whole plane watched while the flight attendant told Will off. Will smirked like a smart-arse and said, 'I couldn't hear you.'
For the rest of the flight everybody stared at Will when they walked past on their way to the loo, as if they were thinking, That's the boy who tried to kill us all!
When we were smaller Mum used to keep us entertained by sending us into the tacky airport souvenir shop to pick out stickers. Once we landed at the other end, Will and I would collect our suitcases from the baggage carousel. When they were all collected together we were allowed to put our stickers on them. Now that I think about it, that was probably her way of getting us to do all the heavy lifting without whining.
There was this one time we went for a holiday in Mauritius, and in the resort they had an all-you-can-eat seafood buffet. You could select a platter of raw things and take it to these Mauritian dudes who would cook it for you in different marinades. It was so yum!
One of the chefs was particularly hot, and he whispered to me, 'Meet me on the tennis courts in half an hour,' and I did think about going, but instead I went to the beach and had a scalp massage. At the end the lady braided my hair into cornrows, and put a red bead on the end of each one. It looked really cool and I was going to wear it to school, but it was a bit ratty by the time we got home.
Anyway, I'd been eating seafood solidly for about four