The Art of Friendship by Erin Kaye

homework?’ she began, and regretted it as soon as she said it.
    ‘Fine,’ said Izzy indifferently, pulling the shutters instantaneously down. She took a step away from Clare.
    ‘Here’s a cloth to wipe your things,’ said Clare cheerfully, acting as though she had not noticed the return of Izzy’s habitual coolness. She threw a damp dishcloth onto the table. A knot of sadness formed in her stomach like indigestion. ‘I don’t think you’ll get the tomato sauce off that jotter, though,’ she chattered on nervously. ‘You’ll need to rip those pages out.’
    Izzy said nothing, picked up the cloth and wiped the table, her pencil case, file and jotter, smudging the pages with ugly orange smears. She did not remove any of the damaged pages and settled down at the table again.
    ‘Aren’t you going to tear out those dirty pages?’ said Clare, unable to let the fact that Izzy had ignored her pass unremarked. She forced a laugh, trying to sound lighthearted. ‘You can’t submit homework on that, now can you?’
    As soon as she’d said it, Clare bit her tongue. She’d broken the cardinal rule about interfering. And Izzy wasn’t slow to react.
    ‘Aren’t you going to get on with cleaning up?’ she said, throwing a careless glance over her shoulder at the messy room.
    ‘I would get on better if I had a bit of help,’ snapped Clare, her balled fists on her hips.
    Izzy snorted. ‘It’s not my job to do the cleaning. That’s what you stay-at-home mums are for, isn’t it? Cleaning upeverybody’s…sh…’ She stopped, thought better of it, and finished the sentence with, ‘mess.’
    Clare closed her eyes and counted to ten while bright flashes of colour throbbed behind her eyelids. She would not rise to Izzy’s bait. The child was no doubt repeating her mother’s sentiments, but that knowledge did not make the remarks any less offensive.
    Clare opened her eyes and, determined to ignore Izzy’s last remark, glanced at the clock. A wave of panic washed over her. She had to clean up the mess in the kitchen, bath both children and put them to bed, plus get herself ready to go out. Of all nights, why did Liam have to be late tonight? He simply had no idea how stressful home life could be, especially when complicated by the addition of Izzy with her attitude and raging hormones in tow.
    How was she ever going to carve out the time to paint?
    ‘Do you fancy giving me a hand with Rachel and Josh tonight, Izzy?’ asked Clare, knowing how much Izzy loved to play with the children, especially when Clare wasn’t around. ‘If you could get them washed, it’d give me a chance to clean up down here. You know how they love it when you bath them.’
    ‘Sorry, I have to do my homework,’ said Izzy with a sly sideways glance, the end of the pencil back in her mouth. Clare could’ve swung for her. She’d sat at the table for a full forty minutes and not written a thing. Now that Clare was under pressure she was refusing to help, and cutting her nose off to spite her face, simply to get at her stepmother.
    ‘Right,’ said Clare. She picked up the melamine bowl and threw it forcefully in the stainless steel sink. ‘You do that then.’ Her voice came out cold and brittle like thin ice. She found a cloth under the sink and started to wipe down the wall.
    ‘Where’s Dad?’ said Izzy sharply, after a few minutes had passed. Her voice was accusing. As though it were Clare’s fault that Liam wasn’t here.
    ‘You know he’s been held up at work, Izzy,’ said Clare irritably from a crouched position under the table, panting with the exertion of wiping the chair legs. ‘You know he would be here if he could.’
    ‘What’s the point of me coming on a Wednesday if he can’t even be bothered to be here? The whole point is so that we can spend some time together.’
    ‘And see your brother and sister.’
    ‘They’re not my brother and sister.’
    ‘Alright, stepbrother and -sister then,’ said Clare, seething.