You Don't Even Know by Sue Lawson Page A

my eyes and picked up plates.
    â€œTable five,” repeated Mum, so close she was practically in my back pocket. As I moved away, she brushed my shoulder and tutted. “You’re a dirt magnet, Alex.”
    â€œAdd it to my list of failures,” I said, pulling away from her. The moment I stepped through the kitchen door, I was impressed all over again by what Mum and her committee had done to the dowdy city hall. They’d draped purple and red material from the centre of the ceiling to the corners, where it fell to the floor, changing the hall into the interior of an Arabian tent. Silhouettes of camels and palm trees dotted the material and cushions in rich reds, oranges and golds were scattered beneath a gazebo lined with fairy lights. On the tables, brass lanterns glowed golden. The design and colours were repeated on the stage, only on a smaller scale.
    â€œHurry up, idiot. Table five is waiting,” hissed Ethan, brushing past me to the kitchen. It took an effort to stop the dishes balanced on my arm from falling.
    Meals delivered, I weaved back to the kitchen.
    Ethan returned to the hall holding meals. Instead of going straight to table five, he scanned the room. When he saw me, he headed in my direction.
    I sped up, trying to make it to back to the kitchen before he reached me. We met in the open space between the tables and the door. Ethan smirked as I passed and stuck his foot out. I crashed to the polished wood floor.
    Ethan’s laughter echoing in my head, I scrambled to my feet and into the kitchen. I stood by the serving bench, knees and palms stinging, and brushed dirt from my pants. Enough shit from Ethan.
    The door swung open and Ethan and Andy strolled into the kitchen.
    Ethan imitated my fall. “Klutz. No wonder he spends so much time in the water.”
    Andy laughed.
    Something clicked in my head. Next thing, I had Ethan pressed up against the serving bench. His head thudded against a steel rack. Dishes crashed to the floor.
    â€œOi. Cut it out,” yelled one of the guys plating up.
    Andy tried to separate us, but I elbowed him away.
    â€œStay away from me, you tosser,” I hissed into Ethan’s face and shoved him. His head smashed the steel rack again.
    â€œStop it, Alex,” yelled Mum.
    My hands dropped to my sides.
    â€œOutside, both of you.” Mum pointed to the door.
    Under the streetlight in the car park, Mum stood in front of us, hands on her hips. “What the hell was that about?”
    â€œHe tripped me.”
    Ethan folded his arms. “Bullshit. He fell. Ask anyone.”
    I turned to Mum. “You’re not going to believe that crap, are you?”
    â€œShut up. Both of you.” Her voice quivered. “I have never been so embarrassed.”
    â€œOh, come on.”
    Mum raised her hand. “Don’t say another word, Alex.” She bit her bottom lip. “I don’t understand you. In front of my friends.”
    Ethan sneered at me.
    â€œWhat about him?” I asked, pointing.
    Mum kept talking. “What is your problem, Alex?”
    My thumbs dug in to my palms. “Shove your charity. I’m going home.”

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R OOM 302, N EUROSURGERY U NIT , P RINCE W ILLIAM H OSPITAL
    â€œGreat job, Alex,” says Brent, the physio. “Need a break?”
    â€œYeah.” All I’d done was walk from my bed to the corridor and back. Hardly a marathon, but I’m knackered.
    â€œBig effort, buddy,” says Brent, helping me back into bed. “You’re a fit young bloke. Your strength will return quickly.”
    â€œI was fit.”
    â€œYou will be again. Good news is it looks like everything is working okay. We weren’t sure how you’d be.”
    â€œJust lucky, I guess.”
    â€œMate, I know it’s tough, but you’ll be out of here in no time.” Brent glances at the bed opposite. “Not everyone is as lucky.”
    My face burns.
    â€œRight, this afternoon I