Kill Baxter by Charlie Human Read Free Book Online Page B

you need is a little bump and your magical ability will sprout like your late-forming pubes.’
    ‘Really?’ His face brightens so much that I just nod and smile. ‘Thanks, Bax,’ he says.
    When he leaves two hours later, I sit in my room and feel guilty. I’ve lied to my best friend. I have no intention of speaking to anyone at Hexpoort about him. It’s the old keep-on-putting-it-off-and-get-him-to-focus-on-something-else strategy. I’ve used it a thousand times. This is the only time I’ve ever felt bad about it.
CrowBax:
  
All communication is persuasive. We just happen to be good at it.
SienerBax:
  
We agreed. We’re going to try to treat people fairly. We’re not going to exploit weaknesses.
CrowBax:
  
Just cut off my fucking hand. I’m already missing a finger, just take the whole thing. Please. Take an eye, take a kidney, but please don’t take my beautiful manipulations …
    I’ve fallen off the wagon already. I’ve manipulated Kyle and I hate myself for it. I realise it’s not just the big manipulations I have to stop. It’s the small ones too. I have to go completely cold turkey. I have to end this bullshit.
    The depression leech is sucking all the happy juices out of my brain so I shove some more clothes into a bag and then stomp downstairs to get a coffee.
    My mother is in the kitchen, playing a game on her phone. She swears and paws viciously at the screen. ‘Fucking cocksucking aliens,’ she shouts. My mom can swear like a sailor when she gets riled up.
    ‘Hey, Mom,’ I say and turn the kettle on. ‘I thought games turned you into a psycho?’ It’s one of her theories. My mother is convinced that me dealing porn is either down to a vaccination I had as a kid, the gluten in my food, or video games. She’s not sure which, but definitely one of those.
    ‘Baxter! Sorry, was just replying to an email.’ She places her phone face down on the counter.
    ‘Right,’ I say.
    ‘What you been doing?’ she asks, patting the stool next to her. ‘Spending time with Rafe, I hope. He’s been really anti-social lately. I wish he wouldn’t spend so much time reading his history book and living in his head.’
    ‘Getting school books,’ I say, dutifully sitting down. ‘And yeah, I’ve spent some time with Rafe.’
    ‘Good. This is a second chance for you. You don’t have to do things like you did at Westridge, you know? There’s no shame in trying to change, trying to be good.’ She’s right, I guess. Unfortunately there’s no money, power or prestige either.
    My inner change is not the only shifting of paradigms that has happened in our house. My mother used to think I was a normal teenager. But the kind of things she’s seen and heard since I was busted have convinced her otherwise. Unfortunately there is nothing in glossy magazines entitled ‘So your son is a maimed porn dealer with mental issues? Our experts weigh in.’
    ‘I know things haven’t always been easy for you,’ she starts.
    ‘Wait, Mom,’ I say. I know she wants to understand, to probe the depths of my dysfunction to understand where she went wrong, but I just can’t handle it today. ‘Our family household income means we’re in the top two per cent of the world’s population. I was enrolled in one of the top schools in South Africa, which offered an education on a par with the best in the world. I’ve never wanted for anything. I didn’t deal porn because I was repressing some deep psychological issues to do with Rafe. I didn’t do it because there was anything wrong. I did it because I wanted to do it, because I chose to do it. And it may have been ethically unsound, antisocial and bordering on the sociopathic, but it was mine, OK? It was mine.’
    It’s not what my mom wants to hear. Her face crinkles into a mixture of disgust, fear and disappointment. Disfearpointment is an ugly beast that latches on and tugs at her eyebrows and lips. Having your parents experience an overwhelming feeling of