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Previously: She couldn't keep it to herself forever, whatever the news, and Derek's bets were she'd crack and tell Emily by the end of the evening. How could she not tell Emily? All he had to do was be there to listen.

Chapter three – Waiting for Something to Happen

Soft music and intermittent canned laughter drifted from the television, in front of which the younger children were now gathered on the couch. Nora and George were at the table, scribbling away in their respective note books. There was only one lamp on in the lounge, and a rare atmosphere of calm permeated the house.

At ten, Casey decided to call it a night. She'd played cards with Marti, braided Lizzie's hair – only to have her screech in disgust at the outcome and undo it all; she'd listened to George vent about one of his clients; written up a list of pick up and drop off times for Nora (and that was only till Wednesday), and tried, but failed, to stop feeling guilty that the only two ideas really inhabiting her mind were currently upstairs, with a wall separating them. One, of course, was an inanimate piece of paper with a University of Toronto stamp on it and would have to be revealed, answered, dealt with, somehow, in the next few days; the other was a far different matter: a living, breathing being, an enigma, who made her smile secretly, plagued her till her brain hurt, but still, somehow, managed to act as if she wasn't good enough to share the world with him.

As she ascended the stairs, Casey caught herself listening for sounds from Derek's room. She heard nothing but an unusual silken silence, drenched in the possibility of things unsaid. How many nights she'd done this now, consciously or unconsciously attuning herself to the sounds from her step-brother's room. She started to undo her braid, in preparation for the thorough brushing it received each night, fingers sliding in and out of her hair with practiced ease.

She put an ear to his door. Still nothing. Could he be in bed that early? What if he'd been dumped, and that was why he hadn't gone on the big date he'd been planning? Or perhaps he wasn't there! Maybe he'd clambered out of the window and secretly left for his date in mum and George's car, no one the wiser. Perhaps that was why he hadn't argued with George at breakfast. That would be so like Derek, to deflect suspicion and then just go his own way. Much more likely than being in bed at ten on a Saturday night! She groaned softly. Get away from his door, McDonald! This is getting creepy.

Standing barefoot in the passage outside their rooms, bunching a small corner of her t-shirt between her fingers, Casey began to argue with herself, as she always did.

If I was listening to sounds from my own room, I'd know I was crazy for sure, she thought, imagining her letter floating up towards the ceiling and then banging on her windowpane, demanding egress from its disloyal owner. She stifled her giggles. That was such an absurd thought. But still, she did feel a little disloyal to the whole project of getting herself to University and getting on with her life. After weeks of mental tempest, here was The Letter, and she had not spoken of it to a soul. Okay, inwardly she caved. I'll call Emily.

She stepped into the bathroom, wishing to beat the inevitable scuffles that would ensue when her younger siblings left their spots in front of the television. Even now, she could hear Nora bidding them goodnight, hugs and kisses being exchanged. They were all up later than usual, as it was a weekend, of course; but better still, it was a long weekend, what with Monday being a national holiday, so no-one was in much of a hurry to go to bed. Nevertheless, the young ones had some sort of a routine, and Nora and George wanted to watch television by themselves in the lounge for a change. Okay, she'd better be quick.

Brushing her teeth and then humming to herself as she splashed water on her face, Casey tried to imagine what Emily would say when she heard her news. She'd be so pleased for her. Everyone would be so pleased for her. This was just what she wanted and needed, to get away from London, from distractions, from Derek – wait, where did that thought come from? Did Emily think she wanted to go to University to get away from Derek? In fact, was that what everyone thought? Had she done such an excellent job of seeming to hate him? Why was this thought making her feel so hollow? And why are you having this conversation with yourself instead of with Emily? Casey, get a grip!

Switching off the bathroom light, she tiptoed towards her room, again listening to hear if Derek was awake. There was a glimmer from under his door. Without quite thinking, she tapped and pushed it open, the completely irrational urge to look at him and hear his voice stronger than her fear of humiliation.

He was sitting as she often imagined him, leaning back against the headboard of his bed, hair falling softly into his eyes, hands behind his head. Very relaxed and doing absolutely nothing, just watching her, as if he'd expected her to come into his room. 'Are you going to call Emily, or shall I?' were his first words. Uh oh! He was a mad, magical, mind-reader, just as she'd feared. Or else…Casey got ready to scream at him. He must have been in her room, and read her letter and -

He couldn't have read it. She'd hidden it pretty good.

Her mind went blank.

Derek was still looking at her expectantly, eyebrows raised ever so slightly in an expression she had come to know as his disguise for when he was thinking things he simply would not say.

'Derek, what are you talking about?'

'Um, you came upstairs, to call Emily, I presume?'

'Why on earth would you presume that?'

'Because.' He hoped she couldn't see how his heart was speeding, pressing against the inside of his chest as if it wanted to find the simplest route out of there. Of course she wasn't going to buy it. Maybe she'd think he'd been snooping around her room, the very last thing he wanted her to think.

'"Because" is not an answer. It's not even correct gammar.'

She had him there and he knew it. His question had simply slipped out in a burst of uncontrollable foolishness and now he'd have to confess; but everything about her demeanour told him that this was simply not the time or the place for a long and complicated conversation. She looked so unsettled, and so confused, her pretty smile gone now and replaced by a puzzled scowl.

'Okay, Case, it's not a big deal. You've been looking more spaced out than usual today, and earlier you were actually nice to me. To me! You probably thought no-one noticed. Something big must be up and if something's up, you'll talk to Emily about it, who else? So I just assumed…' He paused. He was babbling. Usually it was her babbling and him looking sardonic.

Casey looked deflated. She padded over and sat quietly on the edge of his bed, a couple of inches separating them. Incredibly, at least to her, she felt the urge to reach out and touch his hands as they lay in his lap. Maybe if she could actually feel some part of him, keep his fingers pressed between hers for a few minutes, all the questions in her head would go away or come out more naturally, not in a mad twisted torrent, spilling her inner self everywhere for him to read or tread on as he pleased.

'I got my letter from Toronto.' She said softly.

'Your acceptance letter?' She nodded, watching him with such tortured precision that she could almost have been trying to read his mind. Waiting, though he didn't know it, for some sign, some tiny acknowledgement that he didn't want her to go, would miss her, or grieve over her departure at least.

'That's fantastic, Case. But there wasn't any question was there? I mean, you were always gonna get in, right?' Although he had known about the letter, he didn't need to fake surprise. The fact that she was sitting here telling him had knocked the breath out of him. He was grinning from the sheer thrill of being the one she told first.

'So, what should I do?' Her voice was so subdued that Derek had to sit forward to hear her. She was looking down now, and he couldn't see her eyes.

'You'll accept it of course? Unless there's somewhere else you want to go? But surely nowhere is quite good enough for the super-brainy MacDonald, so you'd better take this offer!' He teased gently, trying to hide his pleasure that they'd be seeing each other for the next few years. But all Casey heard was the flat sound of another person glad to see her go. And he was the one that counted. She'd broken all her rules; told him first. And now here they were, caught in a tide of inane pleasantries over her imminent departure. If there was anything worse than him hating her and giving her hell all the time, it was him just not caring at all, or being polite to her, as if she was some fragile old aunt he was trying to impress. She stood up.

'Night then.'

'Night Case, don't stay up too late writing congratulations cards to yourself!' It took all her will power not to run from his room screaming.