Dylan

25. Questing

'A mother-daughter fashion show', said Dylan. 'At least that's one school fund-raiser this family can't get roped into.'

Behind him, he heard Kris speaking to their father.

'So Annie, Allie, and—uh—Amy are all going to be in this mother-daughter fashion show, and they all think I should be the emcee.'

'I spoke too soon', said Dylan. 'Of course.' He wished he could tell Rod about it.

Behind him again, he heard the voices of his family dropping till he couldn't hear them, and then moving away.

'I thought you were going to spend some time with Dylan.'

Kris rolled his eyes at his father. 'I have been spending time with Dylan. I haven't spent this long watching his back since we came to Lawndale.'

'He's still talking to himself, though.'

'That's just weird stuff. Dylan's always been weird. I don't understand how you don't get that.'

'I don't know how many times I've told you not to talk like that about your brother.'

'What else am I supposed to call it?' said Kris. 'Look at what's happened now. He found the only person in the world who's weird enough to want to make friends with him, and it's like he just had to prove that he's too weird even for Rod Rhode.'

'Dylan's quarrelled with Rod? I—'

Kris interrupted his father. 'Can we talk about this later? Mom's here with the pizza, and I'm starving.'

'A mother-daughter fashion show at the school?'

'Yes, there's a letter here from the school about it.' Kris grabbed another slice of pizza as his father passed the letter across the table to his mother.

As she was saying, 'I'm sure Kris will make a great emcee, but it's a pity I don't have a daughter to go in the fashion show with me', the phone rang, and Kris leaped up and grabbed it, still clutching a slice in his other hand.

'Hello', he said into the phone, around a mouthful of pizza.

— 'Uh, hello, uh—who is this?'

Kris gulped and swallowed. 'This is Kris.'

— 'Uh, Kris? Oh, uh, Dylan's brother? Can I speak to Dylan, please?'

'You want to speak to Dylan? Who is this?'

— 'Um, this is Tierney. Rod's sister?'

'Just a minute.' Kris buried the mouthpiece in his shirt and told Dylan, 'It's Tierney, Rod's sister.'

Dylan flushed and spoke in a strangled voice. 'It's Tierney? Rod's sister? And she wants to speak to me? I, uh, I, uh, I'—he flushed even more and his voice turned into a high-pitched whisper—'I'll take it upstairs, okay?'

'All right', said Kris, shrugging. 'I'll hang up here when you pick up there.'

Dylan bolted upstairs, and grabbed the receiver from the phone extension in his room. 'I got it!' he called downstairs, holding his hand over the mouthpiece. 'You can hang up now!' Then he took two deep breaths, lifted his hand from the mouthpiece and brought the receiver into position. 'Tierney?' he said, trying hard not to squeak.

— 'Hey, Dylan.'

'So, um … What's up?'

— 'I need to ask you for some help, please.'

'Help?' Dylan heard that he was squeaking despite himself and managed to get his voice back under control. 'So, uh, what can I, um, do for you?'

— 'It's about choosing Rod's birthday present.'

'Oh.' Now Dylan's voice fell. 'Something for Rod.' He waited for Tierney to go on, but there was just silence at the other end. Dylan was starting to think Tierney might have fallen asleep when her voice came back on the line, but sounding strangely anxious.

— 'So, uh, yeah, and, uh, yeah, that's right. Exactly. That'll be good. Thanks.'

'It'll be good? What'll be good?' There was silence at the other end again. 'Tierney?'

— 'Sorry, Rod came into the room and I didn't want him to overhear and, uh, yeah, so, that'll work. Excellent. So I'll come round and see you now. Uh, right.'

'Rod came back into the room, right? So you can't talk on the phone, but you're going to come round here to my place and explain everything?' Dylan realised that his voice had become completely normal just as everything else made less sense than ever.

— 'Yeah, right, that's it, thanks, uh, g'bye now.'

Dylan heard the click of Tierney hanging up, and he hung up too. He sat on his bed for half a minute before getting up and heading downstairs again, where he found his family still at the dinner table, although only Kris was still actually eating.

'Tierney's, uh, coming over here', he said. 'There's, um, something she, uh, wants to talk with me about.'

'This is Rod's sister?' said Dylan's father, but before he could go on, or Dylan could respond, the phone rang again and Dylan grabbed up the receiver reflexively.

'Hello?' he said. There was no answer. He tried again. 'Hello? Hello, Tierney, is that you? Hello?' Still no answer, just a click on the other end as whoever it was hung up.

Dylan took the receiver from his ear and stared at it in puzzlement. 'They hung up', he said.

'Damn prank callers!' said his mother.

Dylan's father ignored this. 'Didn't you say Tierney Rhode had some sort of band?'

Dylan was now sufficiently collected to answer. 'Some sort, yes. I mean, they use musical instruments and their voices to create sound as an accompaniment to social activities, so if that qualifies you as a band, Mystik Spiral clears the bar.'

Dylan's mother joined in the inquisition. 'And Tierney still lives with her parents?'

'Well—she lives with Rod—and their parents are intermittently present, at least in a corporeal sense.'

'So she's looking after her younger brother?' Dylan's mother's expression changed. 'It's good when somebody in the family shows some kind of responsibility.'

Dylan's father said, 'It doesn't sound like an ideal arrangement to me.'

Dylan muffled a groan. 'It works for them. Look, the only thing going on here is that Tierney wants to get my advice about choosing a birthday present for Rod. That's all. I'll just have a quick chat with her. There's no need to make a big deal out of it.'

'You're getting a birthday present for Rod?' asked Dylan's mother.

'Tierney wants to get a birthday present for Rod.'

Dylan's father gave him a searching look. 'It seems like you haven't been seeing much of Rod lately.'

'There's no need to make a big deal out of that, either', said Dylan. 'You don't have to make things so complicated.'

His mother's mind had wandered off along another track, one it was long accustomed to. 'Sometimes getting people presents can be a big complicated deal. There were so many different birthday and Christmas presents that the Ma'am used to say weren't proper for a decently raised maidenly Christian young lady. Seemed like maybe stockings were about the only present I could have! Three years in a row of a Christmas stocking with stockings in it! What kind of holiday cheer—'

'Relax, Jacquie!' Dylan's father put a hand on her shoulder. 'That's all over long ago. Your mother's not here, and you'll never get stockings as a present again. We were—'

He was interrupted by the doorbell.

'That'll be Tierney', said Dylan quickly. 'I'd better answer it.' He hurried to the door and opened it, and found himself less awkward and shy at seeing her than he would have expected. Perhaps it was an effect of the relief of escaping his parents' conversation. He suggested to Tierney they step outside to have their conversation in private. Tierney had no problem with that.

'You do know', Dylan said, 'that Rod and I—I mean, since Rod got into the track team—uh, we don't, you know—'

'Hey, track season won't last forever. You know, whatever's going on with you and Rod, I know you guys will work it out, okay? Anyway, what I'm asking you to do, it's a favour from you to me, right?'

Dylan felt strangely soothed. 'Uh, sure, I guess. So, a birthday present, huh? Don't know how much I can help you, though.'

'Well, I don't want to get Roddie art supplies again. Seems like I'm always giving him the same present. I need some new inspiration.'

Dylan was prepared to give it a go, and Tierney arranged to collect him the next day for a shopping expedition, if the vagueness of her indications about timing could be counted as an arrangement.

'Kris, I'm worried about Dylan.'

'What, that you're going to have him living in your basement twenty years from now?'

Kris's father shook his head. 'Do you know anything about this young woman who's come to see him?'

'She's just Rod Rhode's sister—wait, you're not thinking that—we are talking about Dylan, right? He told you she just wants him to help choose a birthday present for Rod.'

'You were telling me that Dylan and Rod have quarrelled, weren't you? That's bound to make this a difficult and disrupted time for Dylan, isn't it?'

Kris thought quickly. 'Well, I have been keeping an eye on him ever since you asked me to, but the problem is that time I spend on Dylan is time taken away from other things, like training, for example. Now, you did say you'd make it worth my while, and I'd have more time to spare if I could use my training time more efficiently—say, if I could afford to buy some equipment I've had my eye on … We could go shopping tomorrow …'

As Tierney drove off from the Brocklethwaite house, she explained to Dylan that there were some other possible presents she wanted to exclude, apart from art tools: CDs and books.

Dylan said, 'I know Rod can always find a use for some pig's blood, but the problem is that he already knows where to find that, and I don't.'

Tierney suggested they just drive to Dega Street and look around.

Dylan thought some more about Rod, and about what he liked doing, apart from art and running. An idea came to him. 'Is there a joke shop on Dega Street?'

As soon as Kris got inside the sport and fitness store with his father, one of the assistants recognised him.

'Hey, Kris!' he said. 'Nice work in that practice bout at the gym last week!'

They bumped fists and then pretended to shape up to each other, weaving a little and throwing a few mock punches.

'So, anything we can help you with here today?'

'Maybe later', said Kris. He pointed at his father. 'My dad and I are going to browse a little first.' Kris wanted to see how his father reacted to a few price tags before he decided what to focus on.

Dylan and Tierney had not succeeded in finding a joke shop on Dega Street, nor had any of Tierney's other ideas recommended themselves to Dylan. He found himself repeatedly having to point out that gifts such as incense, scented candles, retro clothing, and new guitars were all better suited to Tierney herself than to Rod. Dylan was feeling grateful that at least they hadn't seen a shop selling vintage magazines.

Or not yet.

There was, however, a body piercing parlour.

Dylan knew that both Tierney and Rod had multiple piercings—in their ears; if they were pierced anywhere else he didn't want to know about it. So he couldn't immediately come up with an argument against going inside Bif's (that was the name of the place) to find out about the two-for-one special being advertised in the window.

Tierney and Bif turned out to be old acquaintances—the way they chatted seemed as if Tierney was a regular at the piercing parlour, but Dylan still didn't want to think about that.

While he was working hard at not thinking about the situation he was in with Tierney and Rod, Tierney and Bif had somehow got talking about the idea that Tierney and Dylan should take advantage of the two-for-one special offer, one hole each for two customers, at half normal price. Tierney was wondering aloud whether she should get a lip ring or a tongue stud, and Dylan mobilised his scattered thoughts to nip developments in the bud, wincing even at the metaphor.

'Sorry, Tierney', he said, 'but I don't want to get pierced. I have a very low tolerance for pain.'

'Hey, kid', said Bif, 'don't think of it as pain. It feels more like bursting a pimple.'

'When I said I had a low tolerance for any kind of pain, bursting a pimple was the kind of thing I was thinking of.'

Tierney and Bif exchanged looks.

'Piercings give you style', said Tierney. 'You choose where you want them and what you do with them as a way of expressing your individuality.'

'Dare to be different', said Bif. 'Stand out from the crowd and be your own man. You know, I can't give Tierney the special offer if you don't get a piercing as well.'

Dylan shook his head with resigned determination.

'Tierney, I—'

The ringing of a bell signalled the opening of the shop door. 'Bif, I—oh, Tierney, hi!' said the new customer, a man with a ponytail and a chin-beard, wearing a vest without a shirt so that his well-developed muscles were on display. He walked across to Tierney, wrapped her up with one arm, and kissed her on the cheek.

'Hey, Boris', Tierney said, and kissed him back.

'Looks like you were having a pretty serious talk', he said. 'Sorry to interrupt, but I gotta get some more of your antiseptic stuff, Bif, for my eyebrow ring.'

Bif said she'd fetch some and went out to the back room. Tierney asked Boris how things were going with 'the Mandrakes'.

'I think I've taken them about as far as I can. I need to get out on my own, start a new band of my own.'

'I really think you should. You've got what it takes to create something special.'

'Thanks', said Boris. 'I've never forgotten what I learned working with you.'

Tierney turned to Dylan. 'Dylan, I was in a band with Boris once.' She turned back to Boris. 'This is Dylan. He's at Lawndale High with my kid brother Rod. He's doing me a favour by helping me pick out Rod's birthday present.'

'So you're thinking about bringing Rod in here for the two-for-one special?'

Tierney shrugged. 'I dunno. Dylan says he's not keen on getting pierced himself.'

Boris looked at Dylan. 'Fair enough, kid. I mean, if you want any advice about piercings, I can tell you about all of mine. But they're not for everybody.'

Hank was patiently waiting as Kris chatted with the sales assistant behind the counter, when he heard a familiar voice behind him, saying his name inquiringly.

He turned and saw Erica Donnell, the partner who supervised him at the office, accompanied by a boy about Kris's age. He returned her greeting.

'This is my nephew Jasper', she said. 'I'm buying him something for his birthday.'

'This is my son Kris', said Hank, at which Kris turned to face them. 'Kris, this is Erica Donnell, one of the partners at my firm.'

'What's your sport, Jasper?' said Kris. 'Whatever it is, you've come to the right place.'

'We were talking about general fitness equipment', said Jasper.

The sales assistant chimed in. 'We're happy to help you with whatever you need, and I'm sure you'll get good advice from Kris, here. He knows his stuff.'

Kris just shrugged off the compliment.

Back on Dega Street, Dylan said, 'I'm sorry, Tierney, but I get the feeling this isn't working out.'

'Hey, if you don't want to get pierced, that's cool.'

'I don't mean just that. I mean, going round with you, trying to pick out a birthday present for Rod … I'm sorry. Maybe you should just take me back home.'

'If you like. But you've really helped me out, Dylan. I know just what I'm going to give Rod for his birthday.'

Dylan blinked rapidly. 'I have?' He blinked again. 'I mean, you do?'

Tierney nodded. 'Sure. All that stuff we looked at, that stuff that's plastic or too strong-smelling or tie-dyed—I've got an idea now. I'm going to write a song for Rod, about how I went out shopping to find something for my little brother for his birthday and how it was so hard to find a present that was right for him.'

'A song?'

Tierney nodded. 'Uh-huh. And Mystik Spiral will perform it.'

Dylan thought about this. 'A Mystik Spiral song. Well, it's a very—original idea for a birthday present.' He nodded. 'I, uh, I hope it works out well for you.'

Rod sat in the audience, watching one cheerleader after another do her catwalk stroll with her mother, but mostly watching Kris Brocklethwaite and how full of himself he looked, as usual. How Rod wished he could drop a bucket of pig's blood on him! But he'd decided it was too risky to try to pull the same stunt he'd used at the roller hockey game. Then he'd had Dylan to help out. He didn't think he could count on any of his new buddies from the track team in the same way.

He looked round and saw Dylan in the audience. He looked as if he wasn't enjoying his brother's appearance in the limelight. Of course, he looked like that most of the time, but Rod knew Dylan; he would have enjoyed seeing his brother drenched in pig's blood. If only Dylan had been talking to him, they could have worked out some plan, maybe some way to spike Kris's water bottle with juice from those psychotropic berries from the Brocklethwaite family camping trip. Too bad Dylan was cutting off his nose to spite his face. At least he was still talking with Tierney, at least on the phone; Rod couldn't figure out why, but a simple use of the redial function had told him that much. Tierney wouldn't interfere, though, not unless Dylan actually asked her to, and maybe not even then. Rod imagined he could get her to carry a note for him, but what were they, middle schoolers?

Rod turned his attention from Dylan to Eva, sitting beside him. At least she was having a good time, enjoying the fashion show. Come to that, although it wasn't really Rod's thing, there was an element of visual interest in it. And he couldn't deny that Eva was at least cute, as well as being a fair performer on the track.

Dylan could feel himself scowling as he looked at Rod, sitting with Eva and his other track team buddies. He should be pranking Kris instead. Why didn't he know that?