My only chance though, of taking any reasonable part, was if Wills wasn’t there. If someone else dropped out I might get to play, but I knew I wouldn’t play well alongside Wills.
I hated myself for thinking it.
Clingon called for everyone to leave the hall because he was closing up. Wills ran ahead of us. Dad wiped the sweat from his forehead.
I whispered to him, “He’s scared, Dad. Wills is scared he’ll mess up.”
Dad looked astonished. “Wills, scared?”
“He told me, Dad.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?” Dad grumbled.
“It’s not something you tell your dad, is it?” I replied.
“What’s there to be scared about? It’s not that important, is it?”
“It’s important to Wills.”
Dad headed off after Wills and caught him by the arm. “Hey, Wills,” he said. “Let’s not fight. Come on, I’ll take both of you for pizza before I take you home.”
“A pizza and dessert?” Wills asked. “We’ve gotta build up our strength for the tournament, haven’t we, Chris?”
I nodded halfheartedly.
“A pizza and dessert it is,” grinned Dad.
“You probably shouldn’t have the dessert though, Dad, should you?” cackled Wills.
“Wise guy,” Dad growled. But things were all right again. Storm over. That particular storm, at least.
Chapter Fourteen
“How’s the story coming ?” Penny asked me the next time I went into the library.
“Who says I’m writing one?” I replied.
“I know you are,” Penny laughed, “because you say the same thing every time I ask you. Come on, tell me what you’re writing about.”
“Three chocolate cookies and I’ll tell you,” I grinned.
“I’ll expect it word-by-word for three chocolate cookies,” Penny said.
“It’s called ‘My Brother’ and it’s about what it would be like to live with someone who’s a psycho,” I revealed.
“Ah,” Penny said. “Taken from real life, eh?”
“Well, I’ll probably add bits and change bits and exaggerate bits, but mostly I’m writing it from real life.”
“That’s where a lot of the best stories start,” Penny nodded.
“It’s got a great beginning,” I said. “Well, I think it’s good. I’ve talked about the psycho being like a hurricane, because that’s just what Wills is like when he’s doing his Acts Dumb and Dumber.”
“Hurricane Wills,” Penny reflected. “I like it. Go on, then, don’t leave me hanging. How does it start?”
“I know that bit by heart,” I smiled. “There’s a hurricane smashing through our house. There’s a hurricane smashing, trashing, bashing through our house. CRASH! BANG! WALLOP! The doors are slamming, chairs are falling, cushions flying, feet running, voices shouting, ‘STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP!’”
“That’s a great beginning,” applauded Penny. “It really makes you want to read on, which is what all the best stories do.”
“I’ve written about four pages so far, which isn’t that much because my writing’s big,” I said. “Wills thinks I’m writing love letters because I won’t tell him what it is.”
“Poor Wills,” said Penny.
“It’s not meant to be horrible about him, it’s just sort of about what happens,” I said quickly.
“Well, if the rest of it is as good as the beginning, you stand a great chance of winning the prize.”
“No chance,” I scoffed. “The thing is that I don’t care about winning. The prizes are lame anyway. I’m just enjoying writing it. It’s like I’m getting things off my chest. It’s like a secret diary,” I said.
“I shall look forward to reading it when you’ve finished it,” said Penny.
“You owe me three cookies,” I ordered.
“Three chocolate cookies coming up, sir,” Penny saluted.
I went home as soon as I had finished my homework. Mom was in the kitchen cooking our dinner. I gave her a quick hug, then dashed upstairs to change out of my uniform. I opened my bedroom door. The draft from it blew several tiny pieces of white paper up into the air. They settled around my feet. And then I saw. The whole room was covered in tiny pieces of white paper. Hundreds of them. I knew within seconds what it was. MY BROTHER by Chris Jennings. Wills must have found it. Wills must have found it and read it. Across my mirror, one word written in red flashed its angry letters at me. JERK! it said.
I went cold, as cold as if I had entered a frozen landscape and the pieces of white paper were flakes of snow. I closed the door and the snow rose and fell again. I sat on the bed and wanted to be sick. On a piece of paper by my foot I read the word “jump.” On another by my hand I read “cliff.” My feelings of guilt were overwhelming. Wills wasn’t supposed to see what I had written. It was between me and those pages of white paper. He had torn the paper to shreds. What must he want to do to me?
Mom called us down for dinner, but I couldn’t eat. Wills was really quiet and wouldn’t look at me. Mom tried to have dinner conversations like, “Have you had a good day?” and “How’s math going?” and “Only two more days till the tournament,” but she gave up when all she got back was a nod or a grunt.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with you two,” she said as she started to clear away the dishes, “but I’d get more response from a pair of armchairs.”
“I wish I could turn Chris into an armchair,” spat Wills, “then I could sit on him and crush him.”
“That’s not very nice,” said Mom, looking surprised. “What’s Chris done to upset you?”
“I hate him, that’s all,” said Wills.
“Don’t talk like that, Wills,” Mom ordered.
“He’s the one that’s not nice,” Wills growled. “Mr. Goody-Goody, ha ha.”
“I’m not really hungry, Mom,” I said quickly. “Can I go and do my homework?”
Mom shrugged her shoulders. “Whatever’s going on between you two, I
