He laughed, putting the finishing touches to his donation and then snapping his laptop shut.
"Careful, Nan," he warned. "Too many comments like that and you'll start to sound like the clucky, maternal grandma you're determined not to be."
He could hear her drawing a rattly breath to reply, but someone else spoke first, a man who said, "Sorry to interrupt, but I've got your tea here."
"Who's that?" Elliot asked, looking down at his phone in surprise, as if he'd be able to see through the receiver to what was going on at the other end.
"That's Chase, my beautiful boy nurse," Nan explained. "Gay as a penguin, of course, but it really doesn't hurt to have something pretty to look at when your arse is being wiped."
Something squeezed painfully in Elliot's chest at the news that things had deteriorated to the point of an in-home nurse, but he kept his voice light as he asked, "Are penguins particularly gay?"
"Oh, yes," she said, before stopping for a few seconds to wheeze her way through an ugly cough. "Take it from someone for whom the only sex she gets to see is on the wildlife channel, penguins are very gay. Something to do with their females being out at sea so much, I suppose. Look, I must go, darling. Chase looks very serious about this tea, I may even get spoon-fed if I'm very lucky. Thank you for being so ridiculous with Roxanne, it's absolutely made my day."
"Any time."
As Elliot leant forward to cancel the call, he heard her say imperiously, "And get rid of those lilies, I'm not dead yet. Get me some nice slutty gerberas to brighten the room…"
He grinned. God, he loved that woman.
Chapter 7 – The Principles of Life and the Impressive Side-Boob
I love economics textbooks.
The solid weight of them, the stories of money management, the ebb and flow of trade and industry; it's a beautiful thing. People say the world is complicated, but that's nonsense. Everything you need to know is in the principles of economics.
Scarcity: where needs or wants exceed means.
Rationality: gauging the pros and cons of all alternatives or options.
Preferences: set and specified preferences that allow us to assign pros and cons to all options, and to choose the option that maximizes the pros from our perspective.
Restrictions: constraints we cannot change ourselves, and thus have to take as given.
That was my life. Right there in four words; my past and how I'd arrived at my present.
"Elasticity," I rolled the word around my mouth, enjoying the hissing sound of the syllables. "The formula for the coefficient of price elasticity of demand for a good is determined by dividing the percentage change in quantity demanded by the percentage change in price." Looking up at Abi I grinned. "OK, so it's the most basic stuff in the world, but is there anything cooler than that?" The question was wholly rhetorical because I already knew the answer; no, of course there wasn't.
There was a murmur of disinterested agreement from the other bed, but I ignored my friend's less than enthusiastic response, as a feeling of peace washed over me.
I belonged here. Despite how much it had cost my mum to be in this grotty accommodation, despite having to put up with entitled knobs like Elliot, this was my place. After years of being the odd one out, I fit in perfectly with the business nerds and it was a damn good feeling.
My contented bubble was not one that swelled to encompass Abi, however. Whilst I bounced and bobbled about on my bed, happily flicking from one chapter to another in my textbook, she stared despondently down at the sketch she was working on. Every couple of minutes she sighed heavily. It was getting to be seriously depressing.
Jonah had only been gone a week, but it felt like an eternity. Abi had wilted like a flower with his departure, so much so that I'd actually tipped water on her yesterday to see if it would perk her up. It hadn't.
I would never have thought it possible, but I was actually beginning to long for Elliot and his troupe of disaffected rich kids to come home. I hadn't forgiven him for that crazy invitation to Papua New Guinea (perish the thought!) but I had to admit that life was more interesting when he was around. Not to mention that, when it came to Abi, his best friend was the equivalent of a three year old's stuffed toy; I needed to give him back to her so she'd stop whining.
My exclamations of interest in my studies and Abi's sighing continued for another 10 minutes or so before they were drowned out by the sudden thundering throb of a high powered engine and loud, masculine whoops. I flicked my eyes over to the windows and then calmly closed my book. So here we go…
"Oh, for God’s sake!" The usually pretty unflappable Abi threw down her pencil in frustration at the interruption and I smothered a smile.
"What is it?" I asked, my interest completely fake. I knew exactly what 'it' was.
"Presumably just a bunch of stupid boys who treat this university like their own personal playground," Abi snapped, seeming to conveniently forget that her boyfriend could quite easily be described as such.
"Yeah," I agreed, always happy to jump on that bandwagon. "They go around jumping out of planes, white water rafting in flash floods and climbing sheer cliffs trying to punish their rich, but unloving parents by killing themselves. Annoying, hey?"
I looked at Abi pointedly and she darted a quick look up to the wall above her bed which was dotted with three postcards from Jonah. These cards depicted a skydiver, a group high-fiving in a raft and a shot of a cliff with several people scuttling up it like insects. She flicked me a small, guilty, smile.
"But they're like vampires," I continued, enjoying myself, "because they never die and people find them inexplicably hot. My roommate even dates one."
"Yeah," Abi said uncertainly, "but those guys," she gestured towards the window, "aren't our guys."
"No?" I asked, all false innocence, choosing to ignore the 'our' thing.
"No," she said suspiciously, "they're not due back for another four days...right?"
OK, so I officially have no poker face whatsoever. I cracked and grabbed her arm with a laugh, dragging her to the window where I directed her gaze down onto the paved courtyard below.
A brilliant red sports car sat gleaming in the direct centre, clearly having fishtailed past the blocks put up to stop people doing exactly that. The front two doors were flung open as we watched and two familiar figures, one the size of the Hulk, emerged, making Abi let out a sudden gasp from beside me.
"What...?" She asked in tones of complete disbelief.
"They're home early!" I said, flinging my hands up like I was throwing confetti over her. "Surprise!"
Because Abi was the most perverse person I knew, instead of jumping up and down and squealing, she folded her arms and asked, "How did you know?"
"Jonah called me yesterday," I explained, somewhat frustrated that she'd chosen now to harden up about the whole 'like of her life going away' thing. "He asked me to make sure you were home when he made his big entrance."
"Why?"
"Why?" I repeated incredulously. "I guess because this big romantic reunion doesn't work so well if you're not here?"
"No," Abi shook her head. "I mean why have they come home early?"
I shrugged, thoroughly exasperated. "I don't know. Does it matter? The important thing is that Jonah's here now and being all ‘Romeo below the balcony’ for you."
As if to prove my point, Jonah's voice suddenly boomed up from below us. "Abi," he shouted, and the effect it had on the girl next to me was positively visceral. I actually saw goosebumps break out across her arms as she stared hungrily down at her boyfriend.
My eyes drifted over to where Elliot, in all his floppy haired, cocky glory was leaning back against the car, looking up at our window in amusement. As our eyes met, I felt my lips twitch up in a smile, a move that horrified me. What was that all about? Sure Elliot might look like the cover star of 'Pretty and Rich Weekly', but I so wasn't a subscriber.
"Abigail!"
Jonah's second bellow helped me to witheringl
y flatten my mouth and lean over to Abi to mutter, "I think that's your cue."
As if breaking from a spell, she suddenly laughed, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Whirling from the window, she bolted for the door and I followed her, seeing her bounding down the stairs two at a time. Shaking my head and smiling benignly at the young in like, I followed at a more sedate pace, making my own way down the stairs, across the foyer and out onto the courtyard.
As I watched, Abi flew towards the polished group of about 10 rich kids who had emerged from the various high powered motors that had joined the first. Her rich kid saw her coming and a smile as massive as hers split his face. Aww, who knew Jonah the Whale could be so cute?
He opened his arms wide for Abi to throw herself into and they pressed close like he'd been off at war rather than just on holiday. Maybe I was a bad friend, but I had to fight the urge to shout 'it's only been a week!'
Feeling like I was intruding to just stand there and stare at their reunion, I sauntered over to where Elliot was still leaning on the passenger side of the car. He, too, looked vaguely bemused by the scene our best friends were making.
"Hey, Smelliot," I greeted him, trying to sound surly, as befitted our big fight before he'd left. I couldn't seem to get his TV burning apology out of my head, though, so it came out quite politely.
"Hey, Rox," he said calmly, nodding his head towards Abi and Jonah and asking, "What's with those two? It's only been a week."
"Right?" I agreed enthusiastically, before I could stop myself. Man, economics must have put me in a really good mood if I was agreeing with Smelliot so readily.
He didn't seem to notice my out-of-character behaviour, though, he was too busy shifting awkwardly as if trying to make himself more comfortable on Jonah's car.
"So, where's the running and hugging for our tearful reunion?" He asked, as usual unable to go a minute without saying something obnoxious.
"I must have left them with my other personality," I replied absently, finding myself more interested in the strange, stilted way he was moving than in his deliberate attempt to rile me.
There was definitely something off about the way he was leaning against the car and balancing his weight slightly to the right. In fact, my comment to Abi about the dangerous stuff the boys did on holiday seemed to be taking on particular significance…
"You're not being cool or nonchalant," I said suddenly, making his eyebrows rise at the non-sequitur, "you're propping yourself up."
"What are you talking about?" He asked, attempting to straighten, but stopping as a grimace of pain crossed his features.
I looked at him pointedly then shouted, "Hey, Jonah," turning to seek out Elliot's trusty sidekick. Fairly horrifyingly, he was to be found basically eating my friend's face up against a tiny convertible that sagged under their weight.
"Yeah?" Hearing his name, Jonah lifted his head from Abi's with a sound not dissimilar to that of a plunger coming off a drain. Gross.
Seeing me gesturing, his face lit up and, Abi tucked firmly under his arm, he ambled over to nudge me affectionately on the shoulder.
"Hey, Cinders," he greeted me with a megawatt smile. "Check you and Elliot being all buddy-buddy. You've forgiven him for the pity invite, then?"
"What happened to him whilst you were away?" I asked bluntly, ignoring the somewhat soul-destroying reminder of my invitation to Papua New Guinea.
"I thought he wasn't going to tell you about that?" Jonah shot a quick, confused look at his friend, but clearly missed the clear 'shut up, shut up, shut up,' message Elliot's dark eyes were conveying. "Right, so we were in this village, yeah?" He laughed enthusiastically, looking down at Abi and then at me, clearly loving the story. "And the locals had built this massive slingshot that-"
"Yeah, alright. I think they can figure out the rest," Elliot quickly cut across him. "Thanks, mate," he added sarcastically and Jonah shrugged unconcernedly.
"Always here for you, pal."
"So Elliot's hurt?" Abi asked and, as we all looked at her, a wide, joyful grin spread across her face.
"I'll try not to take offence at how happy that seems to make you," Elliot commented dryly and my friend blushed and ducked her head, trying to hide her smile.
"Sorry," she apologised embarrassedly. "It's just that, when you came back early, I was worried it was something to do with me." She reddened further as we all continued to stare at her, turning in Jonah's arms to look up at him and explain, "Like you'd missed me so you'd changed your flights…" Her voice became little more than a whisper at this admission and then strengthened as she added, "I just didn't want to be that girl, the one that ruins things for her boyfriend."
Ew, what had happened to my friend? When had she become so yucky?
Jonah didn't seem to share my revulsion, however, and he smacked a delighted kiss on her forehead to prove it. "You would never ruin anything for me," he said gruffly and Elliot and I rolled our eyes in unison.
After this soppy moment I could see our friends were getting fidgety at not being lip to lip, so I dismissed them with an, "OK troops, as you were."
Not needing to be told twice, they pretty much scampered back to their car bonnet of choice and picked up where they'd left off. I watched them go, and then slowly turned to look at the hapless wonder left in front of me. Any sense of unity over how gross our friends were was swiftly replaced with anger as I saw him hunched with pain.
"So, let me get this straight," I said flatly, "you used yourself as slingshot fodder? Honestly, Sinclair, of all the stupid..." I shook my head in disbelief. "You could've been killed!"
"Irritated that you would’ve been denied the honour?" He smirked, all bravado.
Gah! Even barely able to stand he was just so arrogant! Quick as a flash, I whipped my finger out and prodded him in the stomach. I hadn't poked him that hard, but he immediately let out a hiss of pain and doubled over with a curse. For my part, I crossed my arms and glared at him, trying to hide how alarmed I was by this reaction.
"So what have you got?" I demanded. "Broken ribs? Internal bleeding? Just the usual holiday ending shenanigans?"
"Pretty much," he groaned, straightening up with an effort and looking at me balefully, "no big deal."
No big deal?
"You are a knob-head," I said decidedly. "My mum likes you, you know. It would've been a real downer to have to go home with the news that you were just too immature to survive anymore."
"Nice of you to not draw too much attention to the fact that my mum wouldn't have been as bothered," he said wryly and I drew in a sharp breath.
"This better not have been an attention seeking thing!" I exclaimed, his risk-taking behaviour suddenly cast in a new light. "Because your mum's not going to pay you any more attention if you're dead." I suddenly heard how harsh that sounded and hurriedly added, "And by that I mean, of course your mum doesn't want you dead."
The low rumble of conversation continued around us, interspersed with laughter and backslapping, presumably as Elliot's slingshot adventure was recounted. Between me and Elliot, however all went quiet as he gave my pronouncement some thought.
Finally, he smiled a twisted little smile and said, "Well that's something, I guess."
I didn't really know what to say to that. It really was one of the most disconcerting things about my life, the way I didn't know the first thing about Elliot and yet knew everything. Then again, I didn't need to have practically lived in the Sinclair house for 8 years to know that his mum was a complete cow. 8 minutes would have sufficed.
Still, I didn't think Elliot really wanted to get into a deep 'why doesn't my mum like me?' conversation out here with all his rich buddies milling around casting us interested looks. This thought was reinforced as, after a much shorter pause, he suddenly said, "Like your new look by the way, very study shabby chic. The hoodie really makes it."
Which was when I remembered that, due to a long time between laundromat trips, I was wearing his 'I do it like the animals do' hoodie.
Monkeys.
I looked down at my (correction: his) crumpled jumper, and baggy grey track pants and shrugged to cover my mortification.
"Not all of us roll out of bed looking like an ad for aftershave," I said, trying desperately hard to hide how discomfited I was. Family angst and then being sprung in his top in such quick succession was hard to handle. "And, anyway, Economics doesn't care how I dress," I added piously, "it loves me just the way I am."
"Which is just as well, because you're not going to pick up anyone else looking like that," he said cheerily, all the 'my mum doesn't love me' stuff seemingly forgotten as I glowered at him.
"Watch it, I made you flinch just by poking you," I growled. "Imagine how much it would hurt if I got creative with my shoe."
"Fair point," he admitted. "But seriously, are you sure my hoodie's not just a front for some skimpy little outfit? You could be wearing anything under there."
And, oh my God, he snagged the back of his jumper and looked down.
"...or nothing," he finished, the smile in his voice painfully evident.
I flushed a deep red and squirmed away from him, thankful that it was only my bare back he'd gotten a look at. Well, really! I was just in my room studying. It was hardly a crime to throw a jumper on over nothing. It was baggy enough that you couldn't tell, anyway. Couldn't tell, that is, unless some nosey boy stuck his head down there.
I looked up from rearranging the top so it sat properly and caught Elliot looking at me in a way I'd never seen before. It was almost…fond? The moment passed quickly and he grinned at my blush, shaking his head patronisingly. "You're one of a kind, Rox."
"Yeah, like I'm the only one around here not wearing a bra," I said crossly. I looked around and saw a prime example leaning against one of the other cars, tossing her hair about like a nervous racehorse and staring intently in Elliot's direction. "Miss Creepy of Stalkersville, for example, is displaying some quite sensational side-boob, no bra action over there."
"Where?" He looked round and then cursed and whipped his head back round. "Eye contact," he hissed, "rookie mistake."
Saving from Monkeys Page 10
