Page 95 of Fractured Fates
“Hi,” I reply, surprised to see him. “Aren’t you meant to be at the pool hall?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, we decided not to go.”
“Why?” I tug at my sweater wishing I hadn’t opened the door in my PJ bottoms. “I’d give anything to get out of here.”
“Mikey’s got no money. Couldn’t afford to go out tonight. We’ve ordered a pizza, going to play video games instead. You want to join us?” I peer over my shoulder. “Oh … yeah … and Winnie too.”
I screw up my nose. “I’ve never played video games before.”
Andrew leans against the doorframe. “You haven’t?”
“No. We only had one rusty old laptop at home. It took an age just to load a webpage.”
“This could be life changing, Rhi. You need to come have a go.”
I turn back to my roommate. “Winnie, you want to eat pizza and play video games?”
“Sure,” she says, rolling Pip onto his bed.
“Give us five,” I tell Andrew, closing the door and going in search of my jeans. Winnie scurrying up to me as I do.
“See, I told you, he likes you.”
I scramble through the pile of clothes on my desk. “He does not. He’s just being friendly.”
“You really do know nothing about men.”
“Evidently,” I say, sliding on my jeans.
Winnie does the same and then we walk over to Andrew’s dorm. His block isn’t swimming in luxury like some of the others but it’s in much better condition than ours. He has a room to himself and there are no damp patches or cracked windows. In fact, the carpet looks pretty new as well as all the furniture and it looks like someone actually cleaned in here recently.
A couple of boys who went with us to the bar in Los Magicos sit on Andrew’s bed, controllers in their hands, eyes locked to a computer screen resting on a desk. Several pizza boxes lie stacked up on the floor.
“Take a seat,” Andrew says, pointing to his desk chair and a beanbag. Winnie grabs the chair first and I sink into the bag as Andrew drops down onto the floor.
He opens the first pizza box. “Margarita or Hawaiian?”
“What’s Hawaiian?” I ask, peering towards the box.
“Jeez, you really did live in the far end of nowheresville,” one of the boys says from the bed.
“Yep, and we never got take out.”
“It’s a pizza with ham and pineapple,” Winnie explains.
“Pineapple?” I wrinkle my nose. “A pineapple doesn’t belong on a pizza!”
“Exactly!” Andrew says. “That’s what I always say. But Dane loves it.”
Dane holds out his hand and Andrew slaps a large, greasy piece of pizza into it.
“Thanks, man,” he says, stuffing it into his mouth, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.
“You should try it,” Winnie tells me. “It’s really good.”
I shake my head. “I’m sticking to plain.”
Andrew hands Winnie the box with the Hawaiian and opens the next one, taking a piece for himself and then handing it to me.
