Private

Chapter 4-1

Chapter 4

“What,” Sophie said. It wasn’t a question.

“Dad’s getting a new posting,” Shane repeated dully.

It was quarter to eight in the school dance studio—the only place so totally abandoned that they could have this conversation comfortably—and Shane slumped on the shallow seats between Luke and Rebecca’s shoulders, feeling drained and nauseous. He’d snuck out to cycle to school this morning, too sick for breakfast and too muddled to deal with the bollocking Dad was totally going to give him.

Now, in the privacy of the empty studio, Luke’s arm was around his shoulders, Rebecca’s hand was tucked into his elbow, and Sophie had her scowl on.

“No way,” she said.

“Way.”

“Well,” she crossed her legs—the only one of them sitting on the dance floor itself—and rummaged in her bag for her pen and notebook, “it’s not happening. End of. Has he actually taken the post?”

“Yeah,” Shane said listlessly. Luke made a strangled sort of noise, and his fingers brushed briefly at the base of Shane’s brown hair. “He’s really keen on going, too.”

“Is Jason going?” Sophie asked briskly. Rebecca sympathised. Sophie was more like a boy. Problems were for fixing, not for fussing.

“No, he’s just started his application to the army,” Shane said, picking at the knees of his trousers. “And I can’t stay with him,” he added, before Sophie had even opened her mouth. “He’ll be accepted before I’m done with school and then I’ll have nowhere to go.”

And anyway…

“Dad wouldn’t let me stay while they went either,” he mumbled.

“You’re sixteen,” Sophie snapped. “You can move out at sixteen. Jomy did.”

“No offence, Jomy’s a crazy druggie hooker now.” Privately, Shane thought Sophie was just as crazy as her older sister, but thankfully just not on the druggie hooker front.

“I’m not saying move out and go to Birmingham,” Sophie said tartly. “I’m just saying, your dad can’t stop you, technically.”

“Yeah, technically,” Shane said. “But he’d want to know why. He wouldn’t just be like ‘oh okay then, have fun.’ He’d want to know why and he’d try and make me go anyway and if I did stay, he’d…”

Luke squeezed his shoulders and, mindless of the girls, kissed the top of Shane’s ear. Shane closed his eyes, and Luke’s other arm came up until he was fully enveloped in a kind of awkward sideways hug. And despite the odd position, it was what he needed, and Shane sagged into it.

“He can’t find out,” he whispered brokenly, and the very thought of his father finding out—and the inevitable look of disgust and disappointment, because Dad thought gays were pathetic and effeminate and wrong—made Shane feel sick all over again. “He can’t,” he whispered, and while Sophie looked sceptical, Luke simply brushed his lips against Shane’s hair and hummed.

“We’ll find some way of keeping you without telling him,” Rebecca soothed.

“Why can’t you tell him?” Sophie asked bluntly.

“He’d kill me,” Shane returned, equally bluntly, and shut down that route. There would be no telling anybody, least of all Dad and Jason.

“Aren’t you exag—”

“No, Soph, I’m not,” Shane said ruthlessly. “Dad won’t even watch the Olympics because there’s too many ‘queer’ sports. Like gymnastics and dressage and stuff.”

Sophie still looked sceptical, and Shane crushed a bitter surge of disappointment. Of course Sophie didn’t get it. Sophie had a crazy druggie hooker sister and a weird hippie mother who had books like How To Facilitate Open Communication With Your Children and was written entirely in gender-neutral pronouns to avoid being sexist. Sophie didn’t get it. She didn’t get Shane’s position, because it was just some theory to her, that gay people had it s**t. She’d never seen it. She didn’t get…get how Dad would shout at footballers on the telly, how’d he tease Shane about Rebecca, how he’d rolled his eyes at Luke and called him a bender the other day in the car…

“Soph, Sergeant Kershaw isn’t exactly the most progressive of guys,” Luke said quietly, and kissed Shane’s ear again.

“Oh-kay,” she said, and sighed gustily. “Fine. So we presume for now that he would blow his lid—which, by the way, if your dad is a homophobic d**k I say you’re better off without—and…”

“Of course you would,” Shane said acidly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

“I mean you don’t get it, Soph,” Shane snapped right back. “You don’t get it. You’ve always been here, you’ve always been in one place, you have a home, your family is nuts but they love you. Your mum still sends Jomy money, even though she blows it on junk. I don’t have that. I don’t even remember half the houses I’ve lived in. It’s always been like that, always following his posts, the only thing I actually have is my family. Dad and Jase, that’s it. And I can’t lose that. I can’t. If I…”

His voice cracked alarmingly, and out of nowhere. Face burning, Shane threw himself up from the bleachers and stalked out of the studio, rubbing a hand furiously across his eyes, angry at Sophie and angry at himself for letting it show. For doing what he’d always been told not to do—show it. Don’t show it. That was always the way; never, ever show your weaknesses, don’t give anyone the power to hurt you, don’t…

Only he had. Dad had the power to hurt him. Jason had it. And Shane was furious with himself for knowing it, but…but to lose them would destroy him.

“Shane!”

The door banged, and the half-jog, half-run caught up to him easily. Luke caught at his shoulder, and Shane wrenched free, but Luke simply reached out again.

“Stop it. Stop,” he insisted, and Shane stopped, working his jaw against tears. “Hey, hey, hey—don’t, don’t…”

The hug was sudden and unexpected; Shane tried to pull away, but Luke held on and murmured that there was nobody around. And Shane relaxed—a little—into the hold and wrapped his arms around Luke’s waist, clinging for a brief moment and letting an ounce of comfort seep in along with Luke’s body heat.

“I can’t lose them, Luke,” Shane croaked, and Luke squeezed.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know, I know. But you won’t have to. We can work this out. We can work out a way for you to stay without them ever knowing.”

“How?” And Shane’s voice cracked. “I’m supposed to stay in school until I’m eighteen and then apply to the army as an officer. I’m not supposed to have university applications, or a boyfriend, or not want to go.”

“Well you know what I think about supposed to,” Luke muttered, and Shane coughed a laugh against his shoulder before pulling free. “Please don’t get upset,” Luke implored.

“Bit late.”

“Don’t get more upset, then,” Luke said. “We’ll work something out. Sophie’s just about the most unsympathetic person in the universe, but she’s smart. There’s always an option, right? Just don’t think you have to lose them to stay here. We can fix it.”

Shane leaned against the wall and scrubbed at his face with both hands. Luke caught his wrists, and a faint kiss was pressed to his knuckles.

“We can deal with this,” Luke breathed, and Shane wanted—desperately wanted—to believe him.