Being Small by Chaz Brenchley Read Free Book Online Page A

though I think we can promise that,” as the dog chewed rapturously at my hand again. “Look for the Merc in the drive and you’ll know I’m there, if you’re shy to call on strangers. Kit drives a silver Mini, if you want to avoid him. Come on now, you two. Heel,” and it wasn’t clear if he was talking to Nigel or Kit, but neither one of them paid him any attention as they left. Nigel strained back towards me for a fickle little moment, then leaped ahead, trying to drag Peter after; Kit bestowed a last sunny smile on the pair of us like a blessing, and sauntered off in their wake.
    “All right, son?”
    “Yes, of course.” I wasn’t so sure about the chess; there was a security in only ever playing Small, and always winning. But the men had piqued more than my curiosity, and Nigel had stolen my heart.
    “Good. Extra birthday present, then. Thank your pushy mother who levered you into it, and call by sometime in the week. That kind of invitation has a use-by date. Especially if you want to be official dogwalker, you’ve got to look keen and reliable. Go tomorrow, while we’re unpacking; the break will do you good. So will having more friends than one. You spend too much time with Adam.”
    She built too swiftly, and too high. I saw no signs of budding friendship here, small hopes of it. It was the dog I wanted, and I’d play chess as the price, even with grown-ups. I was sixteen; I didn’t make friends with grown-ups. I didn’t make friends with anyone but Adam. But, “I know that, Mum. At least, I know you think that. I’m not stupid.”
    She said nothing, she only whistled sharply and unexpectedly, and Homer said “D’oh!” in the long grass.
    ～
    We’d fixed to meet at his house, and when I got there – for which read, when my mother at last let me go – I found Adam enmeshed with his sister and his sister’s friends, a perfumed stew of teenage girls hugging cushions and watching television. Even those who’d never met me knew who I was, and what I was to them, which was a freak. They eyed me askance and pretty much silently, holding back whatever whispers and shrieks my appearance might provoke. The first time I’d been introduced to Charlotte and her cohorts, I’d betrayed myself twice over: first by answering all the questions on The Weakest Link , which made me a geek if not a nerd, and then by talking about Small. Adam had patted me on the shoulder like a kindly uncle giving the brash young idiot nephew a hint, shut up now , and then he’d taken me away and tried to explain about girls.
    The lesson really hadn’t taken, or else my position was irrecoverable. I was the creepy genius kid who didn’t want to win quiz shows, who had a ghostly twin that I still talked to, for God’s sake, as if he was really there, and how weird is that? And I didn’t go to school and I didn’t have any friends except Adam, and he was pretty weird himself by their lights. Like my mother, they thought we spent far too much time together. Every now and then Charlotte tried to save him from himself, which meant from me, but she wasn’t cut out for missionary work; she lacked patience, and in the end she lacked commitment. Only her brother, after all, and boys were strange by nature. There was probably no point trying to meddle.
    So she cut our hair for us whenever we’d let her, but mostly we were left alone, in a very literal sense. Which was of course what we wanted, if no one else did. Small didn’t like it at all. He could be mean that way, possessive. I understood him perfectly. I had the best of both worlds and he had the other thing; I was all the world he had and he wanted to keep it to himself. Of course he did, how not? If I’m no angel, he’s no saint.
    And this was our birthday, and I was surprised, almost shocked when he let me go. It had been harder to get away from our mother, with her ready excuses: so many boxes to shift and empty, new quarters to settle into, no night this for gadding