Charlie watched them go, his hands thrust deep in his pockets. He wished he were going with them and not staying here with his brother, but this was his parents' vacation and he just had to deal with it.
No sooner had the car left the driveway than Don turned to Charlie. His face was like stone. Charlie swallowed hard. "Here's the deal," Don said gruffly. "I'm having a party tonight and you're not invited." Each time he said the word "you" he punctuated it by poking Charlie painfully in the chest. "You are staying in your room. You are staying out of my way. And you are not telling mom and dad. Got it?"
Charlie shrugged. "Got it." This was pretty much how he had expected this weekend to go.
Don stood for a moment, glaring at him. "Well?" he said.
Charlie sighed, turned and retreated to his bedroom. Once there, he flopped on the bed. It wasn't such a horrible thing, being confined to his room. He had an essay to write for his literature course that he could work on. Or he could plow through his math book. And his mother had bought him a copy of Buckminster Fuller's biography, which he was itching to read.
But after a couple of hours, Charlie grew bored. He opened the door to his room. There was no sound from downstairs. It was probably safe for him to venture out, as long as he stayed on the second floor. He snuck out of his room and down the hall to the solarium.
From here he could see the driveway. Don was there, as was Paul and a couple other of guys Charlie assumed were Don's friends. They were standing behind Paul's truck, trying to unload a keg of beer. Where it had come from, Charlie couldn't guess.
Charlie hated Paul. Paul was always trying to think of new and exquisite ways to torture him. Charlie basically considered him an over-grown preschooler and couldn't imagine why Don spent so much time with him. Maybe it was just because they had been friends for so long. They had known each other since Little League baseball.
Paul spotted him. He nudged Don and pointed to the solarium. Don scowled and started in the house, followed by Paul. Charlie quickly scooted back to his room.
The door burst open and Don stood there, his large frame filling the doorway. Paul's face was visible behind him, grinning like an idiot. "I thought I told you to stay in your room," Don said.
"I was just in the..." Charlie started, quietly, staring at his hands.
"I don't want you running around the house tonight. Just stay in your room, okay?"
"Okay," Charlie said quietly.
Don left, but was back just a few minutes later. "Here, you can have this." He tossed a bag of potato chips at Charlie. "Okay? Just stay in here."
Charlie shrugged. Paul pushed past Don and came into the room. "And, here, this should keep you busy. You can do my homework," Paul said. He tossed a textbook at Charlie. It slid off the bed onto the floor.
Charlie bent over to pick it up and saw the cover. Pre-Calculus. "I did this when I was eight," he muttered.
"What was that?" Paul roared. "What did you just say?" He charged at Charlie and slugged him three times in the arm in rapid succession.
Don grabbed Paul and began shoving him out the door. Charlie caught Don's expression. He was snickering at Charlie's comment. Charlie felt a little better all of a sudden despite his aching arm.
"Come on, don't worry about it," Don said. "Let's just get the keg inside."
"Watch it, freak," Paul said, pointing a finger at Charlie as Don pulled him into the hallway.
Charlie looked at Paul's book and contemplated his options. He wondered, if he did all the homework and got it all correct, would they accuse Paul of cheating? He didn't honestly think that Paul brought home straight A's.
He had a wonderful vision of Paul being hauled before an academic review board. A row of men in suits, all glaring at Paul who looked scared and helpless. "And how, exactly, did you manage to get everything correct, including the extra credit? Did you hire someone? And if so, who?"
Paul would be terrified, unable to force his feeble brain to come up with a plausible excuse. "It was my friend's little brother!" he would stammer, sweat streaming down his face.
"Ha! A likely excuse!" they would say. "You are expelled! Go flip burgers at the Burger Barn! It's all you'll ever be good for!"
And then Paul would be dragged out while everyone laughed at him. It was a nice fantasy. But, in the end, Charlie just left Paul's book alone. He could do his own damn work.