The Bex Factor Read Free

right, the thing on the roof was kind of true, and all that fuss about Catchpole’s war graves trip, but most of the time he only got the
blame because he was a Dogshit Kid.
    ‘Oi, Geez,’ says Kyle, looking up from Countdown and shouting over his headphones. ‘What do you think you’re doing with my sister?’
    If Matthew reverses any further he’ll be stuck to the wall like that fairground ride. ‘I’m not doing anything with her.’
    ‘Well, you’d better get on with it, Geez,’ says the comedian in residence. ‘Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?’
    My brother wets himself laughing. Matthew just wets himself. I have to get him up to my bedroom before he’s too stressed out for anything. ‘Shut up, Kyle, it’s not funny. And
put some clothes on, yeah? You look well disgusting.’
    ‘Dad’s still in the shower,’ he grunts.
    And I’m like, Nooooo! Because I so should have seen it coming. Every day, when they get home from work, it’s the same old routine: they chuck their overalls in the
washing machine, Dad goes up for the first shower, and when he comes down again he’s always wearing . . . he’s always wearing . . . WE HAVE GOT TO GET OUT OF HERE.
    ‘Come on, Matthew. Why don’t we . . .?’
    Too late. An out-of-tune elephant is bellowing, ‘ There ’ s no business like show-business ’. Two seconds later, Dad’s standing at the bottom of the stairs
wearing Mum’s pink fluffy bathrobe. And I wish I was dead.
    ‘Hello, beautiful.’
    ‘Hello, Dad.’
    ‘Sorry, matey,’ says Dad, spotting Matthew and frantically rearranging Mum’s bathrobe. ‘Didn’t realise we had visitors. What’s your name, son?’
    If he wasn’t weirded out when he saw Kyle, he certainly is now. ‘It’s Matthew, Matthew Layton.’
    ‘You look soaked,’ says Dad. ‘Tell you what – why don’t you nip upstairs and borrow some dry clothes from my wardrobe?’
    ‘ No! I mean, er, no thanks, Mr McCrory, I’m fine.’
    ‘Hang on a minute,’ says Dad. ‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?’
    Matthew reaches guiltily for his hair. ‘I don’t think so, Mr McCrory.’
    ‘ You ’ re the lad who played that belting guitar solo at the school concert.’ Dad grabs his hand and tries to shake it off. ‘Talk about The Tingle
Factor ! The hairs on the back of my neck were doing the Charleston. ‘’Course Bex is the musical one in our family, but you probably know that.’
    If he gets started on the baby photos, I’ll have to shoot myself. ‘Sorry, Dad, we need to go upstairs. Matthew’s helping me with some homework.’
    ‘That’s what they call it now,’ says Dad. ‘All right, love, I can see you’re in a hurry. But before you go, I want a quick word with Matthew here.’
    Matthew looks terrified.
    Dad looks dead serious for once. ‘Bex’s mum is working late again, but if you’re brave enough to risk my toad-in-the-hole, you’re welcome to stay for your tea.’
    ‘Thanks, but I can’t,’ says Matthew, hurriedly. ‘I’ve got to be home by quarter to six.’
    Which means I’ve got about forty minutes to get it over with. Is that long enough? I wonder. I mean, it’s not like I can ask him the moment we get up there. ‘Then we’d
better get a move on. Come on, Matthew, I’ll show you my room.’
    ‘Yes, good idea.’
    He looks if he’s nearly as desperate to escape as I am. I just hope he doesn’t see me blushing when my stupid brother shouts, ‘Here, Geez; don’t do anything I
wouldn’t do.’

Matthew

    Her bedroom is so tiny it feels like a prison cell.
    ‘Wait here,’ she says, taking some jeans and a T-shirt from a white chest of drawers. ‘I’m going to the bathroom to get changed, yeah?’
    This is all Mum’s fault. If she hadn’t been desperate for me to hook up with Dad, I would never have done anything so totally out of character. Because this isn’t me, you know.
I don’t do girls, and I certainly don’t do spontaneity. And, trust me,