Edenham Comprehensive

Casey presses the doorbell to the flat, hopping from foot to foot to keep herself warm, praying she’s got the right flat. Sure enough, the door swings open to reveal Reuben wearing a rumpled, faded t-shirt and baggy jeans.

Only took three tries. Any more wrong flats and she’d have probably given up. People yelling and cursing in your face can do that to even the most determined people, especially at eleven o’clock on a Saturday morning.

“Casey,” Reuben says coolly. He doesn’t look pleased to see her, and she understands that, even though his condescending gaze hurts more than she would care to admit.

“Hi Reuben,” she says shyly, playing with the sleeves of her hoodie. “Can I come in?”

He hesitates for a second, but grudgingly opens the door wide enough to let her in. He gestures vaguely at the sofa which she promptly sits on, the springs creaking in protest. He joins her after a second, sitting mutely down beside her.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she says suddenly, not sure what else to do to fill the deafening silence.

He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on a patch of sofa. “Right.”

“I should’ve done… I don’t know, something.”

He nods again. “Yeah.” He pauses, almost hesitantly. “The guys have shut me out. I reckon now I’m a Grade 3, they're not allowed to talk to me.”

“I'm sorry,” she whispers, unsure quite why she’s apologising.

He shakes his head this time. “It’s not your fault.”

They sit there in silence for a bit, the awkward silence threatening to suffocate them. Something occurs to Casey and she grimaces. It sounds stupid even inside her head. But she has to ask. She has to know.

“Are we… friends?”

Reuben looks at her properly for the first time. “Do you want to be?” She nods, and he shrugs. “Then we are.”

Her forehead creases with confusion. “Is it that simple?”

He laughs, but there’s none of his usual humour in it. “What do you want, an initiation ceremony?”

She bites her lip, shielding her face with her hair. “This is going to sound really pathetic, but you’re the first real friend I’ve had in a long time.”

He shakes his head. “No. Not pathetic. Just… sad.” His eyes narrow. “You aren’t going to hug me, are you?”

She cracks a smile. “No. I’m not the hugging type.” She pats him on the shoulder instead. “Are your parents in?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Casey, are you suggesting we-”

“No!” She blushes beetroot, his meaning clear. “’Course not. You are so dirty-minded. I was just curious.”

He shakes his head. “Mum’s out shopping and Dad’s at work.”

His eyes harden infinitesimally. Casey chooses to ignore it; she doesn’t thing she knows him well enough to ask.

“Same,” she replies quickly. “Well, Mum’s at work and my father’s God knows where.”

He jumps to his feet. “Let’s go somewhere. I’m bored out of my skull here.”

“I know the feeling,” she agrees. A small smile graces her lips. “And I know just the place.”

“Really?” he asks curiously. “Where?”

“Uh-uh.” Casey shakes her head. “It’s a surprise.”

“Fine.” Reuben spreads his hands in surrender. “Surprise me. I’m in the mood for that.”

They get to their feet, but Casey’s stomach chooses that exact moment to let out a huge rumble.

“Someone’s hungry,” Reuben observes. “Haven’t you had breakfast?”

She shakes her head. “I haven’t had time to get groceries. Kitchen’s empty.”

Reuben goes into the kitchen and starts rifling through the cupboards. He tosses her a packet of Worcester Sauce crisps, which she catches deftly.

“Thanks,” she says, touched. “These are my favourite.”

He grins. “I know.”

He gets a packet down for himself and they leave the flat, walking in sync.

“Crisps or chocolate?” she asks.

“Crisps.”

“How can you prefer crisps to chocolate?” she exclaims.

“How can you prefer chocolate to crisps?” he retorts. “Chips or salad?”

“Salad,” she replies. He looks at her like she’s crazy. “I like vegetables!” she says defensively. “Besides, I don’t like chips.”

He shakes his head at her. “You are unnatural, you know that?”

“I’ve been told that a few times,” Casey admits.

Reuben rolls his eyes. “TV or books?”

“Books.”

He grins. “How did I know? TV for me. I find it hard to read books.”

She rolls her eyes. “Retard.”

“Geek.”

“Fair point,” she concedes. “but I’d rather be a geek than a retard. Geeks will rule the world some day. Look at Bill Gates.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes. “Are we there yet?”

Casey looks around them; they’ve reached the stretch of parkland with the omnipresent group of amateur footballers.

She nods. “Uh huh. This is the place.”

“Wow,” Reuben says with mock excitement. “This place is awesome. It's really working the abandoned field angle.”

Shaking her head at him, she steps off the path and starts walking past the football game. The ball rolls over to her and she deftly gets it under control before kicking it back to them and walking on.

“Impressive,” Reuben comments. “You play football?”

“I used to,” she admits. “Not any more.”

He doesn’t press it, and for this she's grateful. Glancing around her to check no one is watching, she darts behind the trees and drags Reuben with her. Motioning for him to wait, she pulls out her keys and slots the right one into the lock. It opens with a soft click and she heaves the door open, stepping inside.

Reuben raises an eyebrow. “You can’t be serious. It’s an old shed.”

“Oi,” she says, wagging her finger mock threateningly. “It’s my old shed.”

Rolling his eyes, he ducks in after her, his head scraping the roof of the den. Casey can’t help but notice how tall he is, especially compared to her.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” she announces, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. “For want of a better word, this is my home.”

“Nice,” Reuben comments, pivoting slowly to take in the whole room. “It’s not bad.”

“What happened to it being just an old shed?” she mutters, but quietly so he can't hear. “Shut the door, will you?”

He does so and comes to sit next to her, nodding appreciatively. “Did you do all this yourself?”

She nods proudly, glad to have someone to share this with. “I painted it myself, I brought all the stuff. No one knows about it but me.”

“And me, now,” he points out. “I feel flattered to share the secret.”

“So you should,” she responds seriously.

She’s not sure why she brought Reuben here. Maybe she wanted to show him she was sorry, and she really wanted to be friends. Or maybe she just wanted to be able to share her special place with someone.

Either way, she’s not regretting it. Yet.

“Want an ear?” Casey offers, proffering an earphone to her iPod.

“What you listening to?” he asks, taking it warily.

“Depressing music,” she replies nonchalantly.

He smirks slightly. “And are you depressed?”

“Reuben, I’m always depressed,” she says mock-seriously, except she’s not so insincere.

Rolling his eyes, he takes her iPod and starts flicking through, changing the song playing to something happier.

“Oi!” she protests, looking dangerously at him. “No one touches my iPod and gets away with it.”

“Oh yeah?” he smirks. “What are you going to do, bite my ankles?”

She whacks him on the arm, her eyes narrowed. “For your information, I am not that that much shorter than you. And besides, I am more dangerous than I look.”

He chuckles. “Believe me, you’re dangerous-looking enough.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she enquires, arching an eyebrow and folding her arms challengingly.

“You have a glare that could fry an egg in the Arctic,” he informs her bluntly.

“Well, thanks,” she mutters sarcastically.

He grins. “Any time, Case.”

She starts, caught a little off guard by his use of her nickname. No one’s called her ‘Case’ since primary school, when life was so much simpler.

She smiles tightly. “Okay, Rubes.”

He wrinkles his nose distastefully. “‘Rubes’? I sound like a girl.”

Casey rolls her eyes, secretly glad the awkward moment has passed. “Charming. You make it sound like such a bad thing.”

Reuben bursts out laughing. Casey looks at him a little uncertainly.

“What?”

His smile merely widens. “You.”

“Nice to see I can make you laugh without saying anything,” she remarks sarcastically.

His eyes grow serious. “You know, you remind me of my brother Callum sometimes.”

She raises an eyebrow. “I remind you of a boy who shares your gene pool? Funnily enough, I don’t take that as a compliment. How come you never mentioned him before?”

Reuben smiles humourlessly. “He’s dead.”

The temperature in the room drops several degrees, and Casey looks away self-consciously. “Oh. Sorry.”

He plasters a painfully fake smile on his face. “But I don’t want to talk about it.” He catches sight of my books. “Those yours?” he asks with a hint of desperation.

Of course they’re mine, she wants to say, but she can tell it’s just a hasty change of subject, so she indulges him.

“Yeah,” she replies. “Want to read one?”

He wrinkles his nose with distaste and suddenly everything’s back to normal. “No thanks.”

Tinny speakers emit the first few bars of a song, jarring through the previously peaceful air. Reuben fishes around in his pockets and withdraws a sleek black mobile phone, smiling apologetically at Casey.

“Hello?” he says. His face darkens. “Dad.” He listens for a second, grimacing. “I’m out with a friend. Just a friend, Dad.”

He winces as the voice on the other end starts yelling. Casey feels distinctly uncomfortable, as if she’s intruding on a private moment, and looks away to give Reuben some semblance of privacy.

“Yeah,” he says tiredly, after his father’s finished his tirade. “I’m coming.”

He slides the phone shut, staring moodily at the wall opposite.

“Are you okay?” she asks timidly, instantly cursing herself for asking such a stupid question. Of course he’s not okay.

He sighs heavily. “Yeah. Got to get home though. Family stuff.”

Casey nods like she understands. She doesn’t. The concept of family is foreign to her, has been for some time.

He smiles wearily and gets up, heading out the door. He turns, just before he leaves, and looks at her. For a second, his façade slips and all she can see is a vulnerable, innocent boy. But then it’s gone, and he walks out the door.