Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [35]
'Really?' says Will, crunching on a pretzel.
I cross my arms. 'And what is the life expectancy of women in Africa?'
Declan shrugs. 'Dunno. Maybe forty.'
'And how many women die during childbirth?' I ask.
'I'd say one in sixteen.'
'How do you know all this stuff?' Will asks.
'He reads medical journals,' I say.
Declan clarifies. 'It was in The New Yorker.'
'You do not read The New Yorker!' I scoff.
Declan blinks at me in the gloom. 'My dad has a subscription.'
'He does too,' Will says. 'I've been taking them out of their recycling. That's how I got my scholarship. I take them to class with me and my teachers think I'm an intellectual.'
Declan and I stare at him.
'What? I don't read them. Not all of them.'
I ignore Will. 'So basically my options are to have thirteen kids starting now, and then die, or I can get cervical or ovarian cancer and die?'
Declan shrugs again. 'Procreation, Jenna-Belle. It's the goal of every species on the planet. You're born, you procreate, you die. That is the meaning of life.'
'Obviously our dad hasn't heard of this philosophy,' I mumble.
'Actually,' says Declan, 'there's an argument that it's a biological urge making middle-aged men leave their menopausal wives to seek a younger, more fertile mate in order to spread their genetic material . . .'
'Okay, you can shut up now,' interrupts Will.
'It's just a theory,' says Declan.
'Mum is not menopausal,' I say. 'In fact, she is obviously still fertile.'
'Yes, but this is exactly my point. Your father has procreated as much as he's likely to with this mate and so now he's going to . . .'
'I said SHUT UP!' Will warns.
We eat pretzels.
After a long time I ask, 'How come you two never ended up being better friends?'
Will smirks. 'I always thought Declan was, like, a . . . you know.'
'A what?' I asked.
'Gay, or whatever. You know how gay guys always seem to have girl friends? It's like a rule that you have to be friends with the opposite of who you want to have sex with.'
'I'm not gay,' Declan says.
'Oh. Sorry, man,' Will mumbles. 'But, you have to admit that you seem gay. Like reading magazines about African women menstruating. That's pretty gay.'
Declan frowns. 'Wouldn't it be more gay not to be interested in menstruation? It's about vaginas.'
I put my hands over my ears. 'Don't say vagina.'
'It's gay to only be interested in it as a kind of, you know, functioning organ,' Will says.
'Don't say organ!' I say.
'No, that's cool,' Declan says to Will. 'You're not the first. Dad thinks I'm gay. Mum doesn't, though. She thinks I'm sleeping with Jenna-Belle.'
'She does not!' I say.
'That's why she walks past my room all the time when you're there – to make sure we're not doing it,' Declan adds.
'In your dreams!' I protest. It would explain why she hates me. She thinks I'm a skank too.
'What about the other day?' Declan grins. 'You know.' He holds his hands out and squeezes. 'Honk, honk!'
'I don't want to know!' Will says, covering his eyes.
My face reddens. 'Declan! You have such a big mouth. It was outside clothes so it doesn't count! And you tricked me into it anyway.'
There's another bumping sound, closer this time. Then we hear a thump directly beneath us, and muffled conversation.
'Are you kids in there?' says a voice.
We sit silently and stare at each other. I'm not really sure what we're supposed to be doing. 'I don't think we've thought this through,' I whisper. 'Are we hiding or are we sieging?'
'Hiding.' From Will.
'Sieging.' From Declan. 'Don't worry, I'm prepared for this.' He gestures for us to stay out of sight, then removes the cover and calls down through the hole. 'I'm diabetic, you ignoramus, and when I collapse Jenna-Belle is going to call Today Tonight. How's it going to look for you when I get dragged out of here on a gurney?'
Then there's some more barely audible talking disappearing down the hallway.
Declan is smiling,