You Don't Even Know by Sue Lawson Page B

want you to walk across the room a couple of times, okay?”
    â€œNo worries.”
    â€œGood man. See you tomorrow.”
    As he walks away, I call, “Brent. Thanks.”
    He smiles. “Not a problem …”

30
A LEX
    â€œProblem, Alex?” Mum’s question cannoned around my brain. Even face down in bed, head under the pillow, I could still hear her voice and see her twisted, angry face.
    I’d slept all I was going to, so stumbled out of bed.
    Mum and Dad were sitting at the kitchen bench, drinking coffee. Their faces were grim. No prizes for guessing what they were talking about.
    â€œMorning.”
    â€œIs that all you have to say?” snapped Dad.
    I shrugged, which only made his face redden.
    â€œOkay, how about, good morning, Mother? Good day to you, Father?” I took a bowl from the cupboard.
    Dad slapped the bench. “Stop being a smart-arse, Alex.”
    â€œDylan,” said Mum, her voice soft.
    â€œDon’t Dylan me, Christina.” Dad’s voice battered the windows. “Apologise to your mother for last night’s debacle.”
    Mum clasped her mug with both hands.
    Debacle? “Mum, I’m sorry about last night.” I opened the pantry door and grabbed the Weet-Bix box.
    â€œLike you mean it,” Dad growled.
    I slammed the pantry door. “I do mean it.”
    â€œWords to shut me up.”
    My hand tightened on the cereal packet. “Look, I’m sorry. All right? But … Ethan started, and –”
    â€œEthan?” Dad snorted. “Your brother is a great kid who works hard at everything.”
    Great kid? Two-faced, sly, slimy bully that was Ethan, not that Dad could see it. And I’d given up trying to point it out. “Yeah, especially being a complete twat.” I banged the cereal onto the bench.
    â€œWhat?”
    When I didn’t answer, he launched into his favourite speech. Attitude, respect and hard work.
    â€œâ€¦ time to harden the hell up, Alex.”
    Dad’s favourite expression.
    I glared at his pointed finger. “Nice one, Gramps.”
    His eyes narrowed. “What?”
    â€œYou sound like an old fart from the fifties. So what’s the deal? Sign me up for the army? Who knows, Dad, maybe I’ll be sent to Afghanistan and die in a suicide bomb blast and then you can rave about being a war hero’s father, because it’s all about you, isn’t it?”
    â€œAlex,” gasped Mum.
    â€œToo far,” bellowed Dad, standing. “Time this crap was knocked out of you.”
    â€œGonna hit me now?” Every drop of anger was seeping out of me. “Just because I’m not a freaking carbon copy of you, like Ethan, doesn’t mean I’m crap. Hell, two of you in the world are more than enough.”
    The vein in Dad’s temple was purple and bulging. “I will not be insulted by you.” He stabbed the stone bench with his index finger. “I am proud of who I am and what I’ve achieved. What have you accomplished, Alex? Hey? Apart from stumbling from one stuff-up to another?”
    Mia skipped into the family room, arms full of paper and pencils. She dumped them on the coffee table. Hands on her hips, she assessed the three of us. “Are you fighting?”
    â€œNo, Mia,” said Mum. “Dad, Alex and I are talking.”
    â€œLoud talking.”
    â€œNothing to worry about, pumpkin.” Dad pulled the chair under him. “Alex, you’re grounded. You will go to school and come straight home. You will not go anywhere else.”
    â€œBut I have water polo Monday and Wednesdays. And I have two work shifts this week.”
    â€œTough.” He took a swig of coffee.
    I hit the cereal box and stormed out of the kitchen.

31
R OOM 302, N EUROSURGERY U NIT , P RINCE W ILLIAM H OSPITAL
    The tube is out. I haven’t turned into a mouse. Everything works when it’s supposed to.

32
A LEX
    I’m supposed to be