A Pocketful of Eyes Read Free Page B

wounded. Fletch could at least have called her to let her know it was over. But she had a pretty good idea why he hadn’t, although she was choosing not to think about it. In any case, Bee had no desire to share any of this with smarmy smirking Toby, who was taking a slug from the flask and studying her with his twinkly eyes behind their hipster glasses.
    Seeing her glare, he proffered the flask again. Bee’s glare intensified, and she shook her head.
    Toby laughed. ‘Up to you.’
    Bee wondered what would happen if she took it. She didn’t get the whole drinking thing; she couldn’t really see the point. But right now, she figured there were three options.
    1. Maintain her stoic refusal, finish her possum and leave as soon as possible.
    2. Have one very small sip from the flask, just to get Toby off her back.
    3. Have a somewhat larger sip from the flask, and see what happened.
    Although Bee had most definitely decided on Option 1, she couldn’t help being intrigued about the possibilities of Option 3, and felt it required a sub-list of potential outcomes.
    a. The alcohol would make Bee relax, and Toby might seem less irritating. In fact, it might lead to other things. Fun things. Things that Bee hadn’t associated with Toby before. Like touching that scruffy hair. Or seeing him without those trendy black glasses. Or sliding her hand behind the collar of that vintage penguin polo shirt . . . Stop!
    b. It would make Bee drunk, and she would do something stupid and/or embarrassing that she would definitely regret.
    c. She would become an alcoholic, her brain cells would instantly decay and she would forever rue the day she allowed herself to be tempted by peer pressure.
    It was undeniably safest to go with Option 1. Stoic refusal was the only acceptable course of action. Bee was about to open her mouth and express this to Toby, but swallowed and coughed at the sudden burning feeling in the back of her throat. She swallowed again and realised with chagrin that while her brain had been busy calculating the pros and cons of accepting Toby’s whisky, her body had simply gone ahead and done it without any consultation. She felt her cheeks redden, and handed the flask back to Toby. She wasn’t a blusher! Who was this boy who could just waltz into her laboratory and turn her into an alcohol-consuming blusher?
    Stoic refusal was clearly no longer an option.

    ‘Did you know,’ said Toby, slurring slightly, ‘that slugs have four noses?’
    They were sitting on the floor. According to the clock on the wall, it was 12:06. Bee’s head felt a little fuzzy.
    ‘I did not know that,’ she said. ‘I don’t like slugs. Snails are better.’
    ‘They are better,’ said Toby. ‘They have teeth, too. One day I will tell you something beautiful and a little bit dirty about snails.’
    ‘Tell me now!’
    Toby shook his head. ‘I don’t think you’re ready for it.’
    ‘Fine. So what else do you know?’
    ‘I know so many things. I know that the goldfish is the only animal in the whole world who can see in infrared and ultraviolet. I know that more people have been killed by fleas than by other people. I know that every mammal has seven vertebrae in their necks, even giraffes with their very long necks and rugby players with no necks at all. Except for manatees and two-toed sloths, which have six vertebrae. And three-toed sloths have nine , which seems greedy to me.’
    ‘I don’t understand,’ said Bee, who was also struggling to comprehend simple concepts such as talking and where her hands were supposed to go when she wasn’t using them.
    ‘It’s so they can turn their heads all the way around when they’re hanging upside down,’ explained Toby.
    ‘No,’ said Bee, shaking her head and making her entire world turn upside down for a moment. ‘I understand about the sloths. Why do you know all those things?’
    Toby squinted at the flask. ‘Actually, the two-toed sloth has three toes,’ he said. ‘It has two