The Named Read Free Page B

annoy me.
    I shove him backwards into the hallway and slam the door in his face, grab my uniform in bits and pieces from my wardrobe, glance quickly around the room for my shoes, throwing everything on as fast as I can. With my blue shirt half hanging out, I spintowards my dresser mirror, quickly brushing my hair into a ponytail high at the back.
    When I open the door, Matt’s still standing there. He startles me into taking a step backwards. Regaining my equilibrium, I push past him. ‘You need a life, brother.’
    He follows me down the hallway. ‘I’d have a better one if you could look after yourself for a change.’
    This comment has me spinning round. But I shouldn’t be surprised, really. For as long as I can remember, Matt’s taken his ‘big brother’ role way too seriously. When we were little and our father walked out, Matt decided to take over the parental role. At first I didn’t mind, but hey, we were only kids then, and I loved the attention from my one year older brother. But it soon grew annoying, and now that I’m fifteen, his dominance is just interference, and I can’t stand it.
    I glare at him, but my grumbling stomach helps me decide to drop the subject. I jump down the stairs two at a time, running straight into the kitchen. He follows and stands at the doorway. ‘You haven’t time for breakfast. I’ll give you some money so you can pick something up at the school canteen. Something healthy.’
    I cringe, muscles tightening all over, and throw him the most evil look I can manage over my shoulder. ‘I have my own money, thank you. Now get lost before I dice you with this paring knife.’
    He starts to turn away, but can’t hold back a cautionary warning. ‘Watch that knife, it’s new and way too sharp.’
    Oooh, he drives me crazy ! ‘Yes, Dad .’ The second I say it, I wish I could take the word back. Matt looks at me, his eyes dark and disturbed; and it’s as if the earth suddenly stops spinning, time hanging motionless between us. I don’t remember my father, but from whatMum says, Matt both hated and adored him. Dad would get drunk often, and violent, and afterwards he’d always go to Matt and cry like a baby on his shoulders. Matt would instantly forgive him, even while strap marks scarred his little ankles. I swallow hard and take a deep breath. ‘I didn’t mean anything.’
    He nods. ‘Just watch that knife, OK?’
    He walks out and, half in a daze now, I grab an apple and go to cut it into two halves, the idea being to take the halves and eat them on the bus. But Matt’s reaction has unsettled me. The apple slips, shifting sideways, and the knife slices through the top of my finger. Blood spurts over the knife and on to the chopping board. I can’t help squealing.
    Of course, now that I really need him, Matt is nowhere in sight. I grab a paper towel and wrap it around my bleeding finger, taking a quick look at the cut. It’s deep. ‘Great, now I’ll probably need stitches.’ I hold the towel tightly, trying hard not to focus on the sharp pain darting from my sliced fingertip right through to my palm. ‘Heal, you stupid thing. Heal, heal, heal !’
    ‘What’s wrong now?’ Matt suddenly asks from the doorway.
    I drop the paper towel and hold out my hand. ‘I cut my finger, OK!’
    He comes straight over. ‘Here, let me see. You’re probably making a fuss over nothing.’
    ‘I know when I’ve cut myself. Tell me, were you born this arrogant?’
    He takes my hand, becoming singularly focused on examining my finger. He takes it between two of his and turns it gently, making sure to view it from every angle.
    ‘What are you doing?’ I realise that Matt’s frown is not one of concern but more of amusement. ‘What’s that look for?’
    He snorts and peers at me kind of weirdly. ‘Are you playing some sick game with me or something?’
    ‘Huh?’ I snatch my finger back and glance down at it, suddenly stunned. Lifting my hand to face level, I examine the