Page 36 of Good Girl, Bad Blood

Connor:

No idea. He carried on like that for a few days, locking himself in his room, straight after work. I asked him if he was OK one night, and he just said, ‘Yeah, fine,’ though we both knew he wasn’t. Jamie and me, we’ve always told each other everything. Everything. Up until recently. I don’t know what happened to us.

Pip:

And after those few days?

Connor:

Well, then he kind of went back to normal. He seemed happy, not like happy happy, but better than before. And on his phone the whole time. I just wanted us to be close again, to play around like we always used to, so one day when he was typing away on his phone, a few weeks ago, I ran past and grabbed it, saying, ‘Who’re you texting then?’ It’s just a joke, he always does it to me. But Jamie didn’t take it like that. He snapped. Pushed me up against the wall until I dropped the phone. I was never going to actually look at it, it was just a joke. But when he had me up against the wall like that, it . . . it didn’t feel like my brother any more. He said sorry afterwards, said something about privacy, but it was . . . you know, it felt wrong. And I’ve heard him, up really late on the phone. In fact, almost every night the last two weeks or so. And a couple of times over the last week or so, I’ve heard him sneak out of his room once Mum and Dad have gone to bed. Don’t know where he goes. He did that last week, on his birthday night. I heard him sneak out before midnight. I waited up, listening. He came back in around two and when I mentioned it the next morning he said I must’ve been hearing things. And I woke up randomly at three a.m. Monday night this week; I’m pretty sure it was him sneaking back in that woke me.

Pip:

I see.

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