Page 49 of Everything That Kills Me
Zeph intended to keep out of everyone’s way when he got home, but Elisa was coming down the stairs as he entered the hall. She took one look at him and called out, “Daniel! Come here, please.”
His father emerged from the lounge.
“Look at the state of him!”
“What have you been doing?” his father asked.
“I fell.”
“Those are new trousers. Is that a tear at the knee? And look at the dirt on your blazer!” She gaped at him. “Don’t think you’re going to get new clothes.”
“Did I ask for them?” Zeph muttered.
He expected to get told off for that but maybe they were stunned by the way he’d spoken. Once he was in his room, he locked the door. There wasa hole in his trousers. A small cut on his knee too. He put on shorts and a T-shirt and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. Returning with a damp, soapy flannel, he wiped down both his blazer and trousers. He had a little sewing kit in his desk drawer and he mended the hole as best he could.
Before he went down for dinner, he tried Jack again. Still no answer. Zeph sort of wished he’d not phoned so often.
When he reached the kitchen, the four of them were dressed ready to go out.
“There’s some pizza you can heat up,” Elisa said. “We’re going ice-skating.”
It hurt not to be asked, even though he’d have said no and not because he didn’t like skating.
“Okay,” Zeph said. “Have fun.”
Was it mean to wish that they all broke a leg? Both legs in some domino effect? Maybe a couple of wrists? Though he knew who’d be waiting on them hand and foot while they recovered.
When the car pulled out of the drive, Zeph exhaled. This was what he had to put up with if he wanted to stay living here and be at school with Jack. A family who didn’t care about him. But maybe a secret boyfriend who did? He wasn’t going to complain.
Zeph had trouble finding the pizza at first until he realised it was a small slice from a few days ago that had been wrapped in foil. Pepperoni, which he didn’t like and Elisa knew he didn’t. He turned on the oven, picked off the circles of meat and added more cheese along with two slices of Parma ham that he wasn’t supposed to touch.
He watched TV while he ate. It was an old episode of QI, which stood for Quite Interesting. Zeph liked strange randomfacts. He’d always thought they might be useful if he met someone he liked and wasn’t sure what to say. Then again, telling someone there were six hundred men in the world with two penises might not be the best conversational opener. What about saying that because of the way their eyes were positioned, pigs can’t see the sky? Or that IKEA names its sofas after places in Sweden, its beds after places in Norway and carpets after places in Denmark? He wondered if there was any significance in that.
Zeph groaned. He was useless. No wonder Jack wasn’t answering his phone. He’d come to his senses.
Judging by the laughter when his family got home, he guessed all bones were intact. Zeph was in bed. He’d done his homework, played on the keyboard and written a song based on Jack. It was calledUnknown Boy.
I see you but you don’t see me
Maybe that’s how it’s meant to be
My heart’s breaking
But you don’t see
Just how much you mean to me
Zeph groaned as he sang it in his head. Four verses where unknown boy became known boy, but although the lyrics needed work, the music was fine. Zeph called Jack one last time before he went to sleep and when there was no answer, he left a message asking Jack to let him know he was okay, and saying sorry for bothering him so much.
Twelve
On Saturday, Elisa and his stepsisters went shopping. Zeph had been given a list of jobs by his father who’d gone golfing. Zeph did everything as quickly as he could. He cut the grass, again, washed the downstairs windows and hoovered, then went out before anyone came back. He didn’t have money to do much. No way would he touch the pound coins left in the hall. It was probably a trap. Bus travel was reduced with his student pass, so he filled his water bottle, pocketed his Kindle and caught the bus to Wisby.
When he saw a group of volunteers cleaning litter off the beach, he offered to help and was given two bags—one for recyclables, a grabber and a pair of vinyl gloves. He was paired up with a lady in her sixties called Bettina.
“You have an unusual name,” she said. “Is it short for something?”
“No. It’s just Zeph.”
