Chapter Two
"Terrence? You're late."
Terrence hung guiltily in the front doorway of the apartment, putting his key away. Mom stood before him, a reproachful look on her face.
"You're early," he countered.
Mom quirked an eyebrow at him. "Terrence, you know you were to come straight home after school," she reprimanded, standing aside so her son could enter. She shut the door after him. "You're only taking four classes. You should have been home two hours ago. Did you go to the mall?"
"No," Terrence replied, more defensively than he would have liked. He glanced over at the couch; Mac was sitting there, pretending to watch TV. He tried to scrape up a plausible-sounding excuse. "I um...I was... Studying," he blurted, which was basically true. "In the school library." Which was an outright lie.
"Terrence, you can study here," Mom replied, still standing over him, arms folded.
"Well..." Terrence was faltering.
"Have you seen the library at Tillman?"
Terrence and Mom looked curiously at Mac, who had spoken. "That library is huge," went on the eight-year-old.
Mom unfolded her arms and planted her hands on her hips instead. "Mac, when have you been to Tillman?" she asked.
Mac shrugged. "Their library is better than the one at my school," he explained, "and they let students from other schools check out books. And it's nicer than the public one. I go there sometimes. But it's huge. I was lost in there for an hour the first time I went." He threw Terrence a prodding look.
Unfortunately the thirteen-year-old didn't get the hint and just blinked stupidly at his little brother, having no idea what he was on about.
Mac cleared his throat. "I'm sure Terrence was just looking for a book," he added.
Terrence was silent.
"And got lost," growled Mac.
Ding. "Huh? Oh! Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah I got lost." Terrence smiled winningly at Mom, who looked suspiciously back and forth between her two sons for a moment, then threw her hands up into the air and turned to go to her bedroom.
"All right, Terrence," she said over her shoulder as she walked down the hall, "you can study in the Tillman Library after school, but for heaven's sake, ask a grownup for help when you get lost. I don't want a repeat of the Winchester House to happen anytime soon." She entered her bedroom and closed the door behind her.
Terrence hesitated, casting Mac an uncertain look. He managed to turn it into a scowl and started to retreat to his room when Mac spoke up again, stopping him.
"Pretty stupid, Terrence. Way to tick off Mom, breaking your house arrest like that."
"Hey shut up, brain tumor," Terrence shot back. "I had stuff to do."
"Like goofing off at the mall?"
"I wasn't at the mall!" Terrence told him. "And I wasn't goofing off! I was doing...school stuff."
"For two hours?"
"I didn't even know it was that long, okay?" Terrence shrugged off his backpack and dragged it along behind himself on his way to his room. Before he shut the door behind himself he heard Mac mutter: "I guess somebody's never heard of a watch."
Terrence dug around in the drawer of his bedside table, pulled out a long gold box, and opened it. Inside was the watch his grandparents had given him for his birthday last summer; he'd never worn it. This was probably a good time to start. For once, Mac had a good idea. He sat on his bed to set the time. He couldn't afford to get home any later than necessary: the music class was about forty minutes long, and if he practiced for maybe half an hour every day it would be a little easier to convince Mom that he was just studying in the Library. Of course, when he got home, he'd have to study for real, and she might get suspicious when he seemed to be studying all the time. Maybe he could just pretend to be playing computer games or something. Terrence strapped the watch on once the time was set and lay back on his bed, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. Doing homework in secret when he was supposedly playing video games. That's just crazy. Besides, it hadn't fooled her last time. Crud.
When he had made the decision to do better in school he had expected the extra homework, but he had never seen the mind games coming. No wonder high school kids are so messed up, he thought.
Bedtime found Terrence hunched over the bathroom sink, threading floss through his braces. When the orthodontist had told him that the cleaner he kept the horrible things the sooner they'd come off, he'd made a vow then and there that he would keep them so clean they'd be in mint condition when he was done with them. By the time Mac came in to brush his own teeth Terrence was fighting to replace the rubber bands. Stupid overbite. Stupid braces. He'd already completely shredded one toothbrush.
Mac had learned quickly that the optimal time to brush his teeth was while Terrence was occupied with his orthodontia; that way the older boy wouldn't be able to shove him into the sink or try to make him choke on his toothbrush. Quickly, keeping an eye on Terrence, Mac squirted toothpaste onto his toothbrush and started scrubbing.
But Terrence was getting faster at replacing the rubber bands. He leaned on the sink and leered down at Mac, who spat quickly and hastily reached for his cup.
"Hey," said Terrence, and Mac cringed. "Thanks for helping me lie to Mom before."
That was unexpected. Mac blinked at Terrence, his mouth full of water. He spat into the sink. Did his brother just thank him? Then Mac frowned. "You shouldn't be lying to Mom," he said boldly, putting his cup back. "And you should be coming straight home after school. You're grounded. What were you doing?"
"None of your business, pitstain," Terrence replied, turning on the water; and in a lighting-fast grab, Mac was locked under his left arm while his right fist busied itself with a sharp noogie.
"Quit it, you jerk!" yelled Mac, his voice drowned out by the combination of the bathroom fan and the running water. Mom, in her room with the door shut, would never hear him. Terrence knew the tricks of his trade well. After a few moments Terrence let him go, wet one hand under the running water, and spattered Mac with it. Laughing, he went to his room.
All was as it should be.