The Sky Is Dead by Brown Sue

Author:Brown, Sue [Brown, Sue]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2013-04-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

A FEW days before Christmas, Sylvia and Mary discover it’s my birthday. December 21. Stupid time to have a birthday. Everyone is running around trying to get Christmas ready and no one wants to be bothered with holding a party or getting birthday presents. Mum used to try and make up for it by holding my parties at different times of the year. I used to come home from school and discover it was designated party day. It was a strange thing to do, but that was my mum.

I can see by the looks on their faces that Sylvia and Mary take birthdays seriously, and sure enough, I’m called into the kitchen to find a chocolate birthday cake and a wrapped present.

Sylvia hands over the present with an embarrassed look on her face. “Here. We didn’t know what to get you.”

I mumble a thank-you and stare at it for a moment.

“You can open it. It won’t bite,” she teases.

It’s a couple of DVDs. The shape had already given it away. It’s two films I haven’t seen. They’d come out after Dad kicked me out.

“Thank you.” I’m really touched they took the time to buy me something.

“We got you socks and pants, as well, but we didn’t wrap those up,” Mary says. She hands over a bag from Marks & Spencer.

I’m just as grateful for those, even if the thought of her buying me underwear is icky. I give them both a hug and then sit down to eat the cake. It is as rich and gooey as it looks, and I eat half of it without even thinking. I’m always hungry at the moment.

“Greg wishes you a happy birthday as well.” Sylvia hands over another small package.

I blink at her. “He knew it was my birthday?”

“He did once I told him.”

Unwrapping the package reveals a pack of razors, shaving cream, and a small bottle. I squint at it.

“It’s supposed to soothe your skin after shaving,” Sylvia supplies helpfully.

I run my hand over the scruff on my face. I’ve never grown a proper beard, but I haven’t even bothered to tidy it up in months. Once it got past the itching stage, I stopped caring.

“I suppose this is a hint,” I say drily.

Sylvia shakes her head. “Take it as an order.”

“This concept of being allowed to get on with my life… it’s not quite true, is it?”

“With help. You can get along with help.” Mary hands me another can of pop.

“I’m twenty years old today.” I point out. “Most kids are managing fine by themselves at this age.”

“Most kids are still slumming it off Mum and Dad at twenty,” Sylvia says. “Now stop whinging and go shave.”

“Yes, Mum,” I say sarcastically. “Can I have some more cake?”

“When you’ve shaved,” they say in chorus.

I scowl at them. “This is a setup, isn’t it?”

“Don’t know what you mean.” Mary makes a shooing motion.

I give up and head for my bathroom. Of all the amazing things about having my own place, number one is the bed and number two is the bathroom.

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