less wearing than staring at rain.
‘All the books, all the songs,’ he said after a while in a quiet, flat voice, ‘the films – all about love. Like it’s some amazing be-all and end-all. But what if there are people who just don’t have that capacity, Rafi?’
I didn’t know the answer to that, still trying to process this new side to my brother. But I couldn’t believe it of him. If there were people who couldn’t love in the way the poets and songwriters wrote about, then Silas couldn’t be one of them, could he?
He flicked through channels and appeared to lose himself in the news reports.
This was Dad’s fault. He should be here to talk to his son about male issues. He should be here setting an example, a role model for my brother, instead of being a dysfunctional mess who couldn’t stick at anything or fight for anyone. Let’s face it, he must know my mother wasn’t going to be of much help to a seventeen-year-old boy confused about relationships. Since he left she had eschewed men (I loved that word eschew – it reminded me of Miss Havisham for some unaccountable reason) and devoted herself to ‘her art’.
Silas sat forward, attracting my attention, and stared intently at the TV.
I crossed the room and tapped his shoulder in question as I sat down next to him.
‘Shush!’ he said.
I cast my eyes up at the ceiling. I knew what he meant, but oh, the irony!
The reporter on the TV said something about anarchists and a city riot. I was only half listening. The pictures showed the usual thing – teens and twenty-somethings all dressed in black, running around with masks on, throwing bricks at police and smashing windows.
Bunch of idiots. What was the point? They weren’t going to achieve anything. Some of the ones at the back had banners with anti-government messages painted on them in red, with circled ‘A’s daubed in each corner. You could see in the pictures that they were checking mobile phones all the time and relaying instructions to each other.
But why was Silas so interested? I poked his shoulder again.
‘They’re protesting against government corruption,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty fascinating how much dirt they’ve managed to dig up and leak to the media in the last few days. They’re all over Twitter at the moment, spreading the word on who’s done what.’
Corruption?
‘A lot of dodgy stuff that the Cabinet has tried to sweep under the carpet. If you ask me, these guys aren’t really that mad about it, but it gives them a stick to beat the government with and get the public more onside at the same time. But I reckon their main interest is just raising hell, whoever’s in power.’
Yeah, whatever. I couldn’t see the attraction at all. Like spraying graffiti tags on walls and smashing bus shelters – utterly useless and mindless. Anyone with half a brain wouldn’t want to bother.
I made a drinking motion with my hand at Silas.
‘Oh yeah, thanks. Coffee would be good please.’
I wandered off to the kitchen, leaving him to watch the losers on the news.
CHAPTER 10
Josie was waiting for us when we got off the school bus.
‘You are not going to believe this.’
‘Oh, I think I might,’ Silas said under his breath. Only I heard him.
‘Lloyd turned up outside school today and apologised to me in full view of EVERYONE! And . . .’ She paused to check we were taking this in fully. ‘And he said, so they could all hear it, that the photos of me weren’t real and he’d faked them.’
‘Wow,’ said Silas, with a grin that bordered on smug. ‘Result!’
She chuckled. ‘Oh, and he added, very, very quietly, that would I please tell whoever it was on his back that he’d done it now and get them to leave him alone. Actually, his exact words were, “Now call off your pit bull!” Bless!’
‘Yeah,’ said Silas, kicking a pebble down the pavement as he walked, ‘I’ll take my teeth out of his neck now. As long as he keeps away. Hopefully he’s learned
‘All the books, all the songs,’ he said after a while in a quiet, flat voice, ‘the films – all about love. Like it’s some amazing be-all and end-all. But what if there are people who just don’t have that capacity, Rafi?’
I didn’t know the answer to that, still trying to process this new side to my brother. But I couldn’t believe it of him. If there were people who couldn’t love in the way the poets and songwriters wrote about, then Silas couldn’t be one of them, could he?
He flicked through channels and appeared to lose himself in the news reports.
This was Dad’s fault. He should be here to talk to his son about male issues. He should be here setting an example, a role model for my brother, instead of being a dysfunctional mess who couldn’t stick at anything or fight for anyone. Let’s face it, he must know my mother wasn’t going to be of much help to a seventeen-year-old boy confused about relationships. Since he left she had eschewed men (I loved that word eschew – it reminded me of Miss Havisham for some unaccountable reason) and devoted herself to ‘her art’.
Silas sat forward, attracting my attention, and stared intently at the TV.
I crossed the room and tapped his shoulder in question as I sat down next to him.
‘Shush!’ he said.
I cast my eyes up at the ceiling. I knew what he meant, but oh, the irony!
The reporter on the TV said something about anarchists and a city riot. I was only half listening. The pictures showed the usual thing – teens and twenty-somethings all dressed in black, running around with masks on, throwing bricks at police and smashing windows.
Bunch of idiots. What was the point? They weren’t going to achieve anything. Some of the ones at the back had banners with anti-government messages painted on them in red, with circled ‘A’s daubed in each corner. You could see in the pictures that they were checking mobile phones all the time and relaying instructions to each other.
But why was Silas so interested? I poked his shoulder again.
‘They’re protesting against government corruption,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty fascinating how much dirt they’ve managed to dig up and leak to the media in the last few days. They’re all over Twitter at the moment, spreading the word on who’s done what.’
Corruption?
‘A lot of dodgy stuff that the Cabinet has tried to sweep under the carpet. If you ask me, these guys aren’t really that mad about it, but it gives them a stick to beat the government with and get the public more onside at the same time. But I reckon their main interest is just raising hell, whoever’s in power.’
Yeah, whatever. I couldn’t see the attraction at all. Like spraying graffiti tags on walls and smashing bus shelters – utterly useless and mindless. Anyone with half a brain wouldn’t want to bother.
I made a drinking motion with my hand at Silas.
‘Oh yeah, thanks. Coffee would be good please.’
I wandered off to the kitchen, leaving him to watch the losers on the news.
CHAPTER 10
Josie was waiting for us when we got off the school bus.
‘You are not going to believe this.’
‘Oh, I think I might,’ Silas said under his breath. Only I heard him.
‘Lloyd turned up outside school today and apologised to me in full view of EVERYONE! And . . .’ She paused to check we were taking this in fully. ‘And he said, so they could all hear it, that the photos of me weren’t real and he’d faked them.’
‘Wow,’ said Silas, with a grin that bordered on smug. ‘Result!’
She chuckled. ‘Oh, and he added, very, very quietly, that would I please tell whoever it was on his back that he’d done it now and get them to leave him alone. Actually, his exact words were, “Now call off your pit bull!” Bless!’
‘Yeah,’ said Silas, kicking a pebble down the pavement as he walked, ‘I’ll take my teeth out of his neck now. As long as he keeps away. Hopefully he’s learned
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