Page 70 of Attractive Forces
Getting to escape to university has been my one goal since we moved here, the shining light at the end of a cold, dark tunnel.
I always thought I’d head back to the North Island for university. Maybe back to Wellington, where all my old friends are. But recently, I’ve started checking out the science program at Otago University. It would be cheaper to live in Dunedin, for one thing. And okay, maybe knowing that’s where Logan plans to go is a factor in my decision.
Though it’ll all be redundant if my grades fall too much because I can’t afford to go to university without a good scholarship.
I was supposed to study last night, but I was so caught up with Logan that it became impossible.
Impossible to leave his bed when he was lying there, his hair all smushed up, his lips red from all our kissing…
Yeah, I would’ve needed more self-discipline than Gandhi to go learn about different types of glaciation instead.
I’m trying to frantically cram for my quiz this morning, but I can’t because our house is exploding around me. Mum has to drive Annaliese back to university today, and she’s on a tight timeframe to do that and make it back before her shift at the diner.
For some reason, Annaliese didn’t pack properly last night, so she’s rushing around trying to track down all her stuff. And then Aaron decides to add to the joy by refusing to get out of bed.
Mum is banging impatiently on his door as I come out of the bathroom. “Aaron, get up, or you’re going to be late.”
“I don’t want to go to school,” comes Aaron’s muffled reply.
“Talk to your brother, please,” Mum says as she rushes past me.
Shit. I’d prefer to cage fight a rabid porcupine than attempt to have a rational conversation with Aaron right now. But I don’t want to let Mum down.
I knock first, and when I get no reply, I push the door open.
The stench hits my nostrils. Shit, when was the last time he actually cleaned in here? There’s a stack of dirty plates on the floor, which look like he’s conducting some kind of experiment on growing mold.
A tuft of Aaron’s hair sticks up on the back of his head as he pokes his head out from under his duvet and half sits up.
“I’m not going to school,” he says flatly.
“You’ve got to go to school.”
“Says who?”
“Uh…I think the government says that, actually.”
“They can’t make me.”
I take a deep breath, in and out through my nose, trying not to think of all the last-minute studying I should be doing right now. Instead, I dredge up every ounce of nice older brother sentiment I can and try to inject sympathy into my voice.
“What’s going on? Why don’t you want to go to school?”
“Everyone at school sucks.” Aaron flops back down on the bed.
“Maybe if you stopped trying to fight them all, they wouldn’t suck as much,” I say.
Aaron pulls the covers over his head. “I want to go home.”
His words strike me in the chest. Not just the actual sentiment but the pleading way he says the words.
Home.
He means Wellington. Back to our old house on the hill, back to our old friends. Back to when we had a father at the center of our family, holding all the spokes together.
I swallow hard. “We can’t go back home. This is where we live now.”
“Well, no one asked me if I wanted to come here. I hate it here!” Even though he’s under the covers, nothing can muffle the pain in his voice.
