The Fragile Ordinary. Samantha Young

the lingering smell of Chinese food hit me as I stepped into the narrow hallway. I followed him, dodging the several pairs of shoes that were strewn in the hall near the entrance.

      As we passed an open doorway, I glanced in and saw two women lounging on a couch. There were empty Chinese takeaway containers on the coffee table in front of them. One of the women was thin with wispy fair hair. Her neck was bent at an awkward angle, and it appeared she’d fallen asleep. The other woman met my gaze as I passed. I got an impression of pale skin and dark hair, but we were moving too quickly down the hall for me to observe anything else.

      “Tobias, where are you going?” The woman’s voice rang out just as he put his hand on the knob of a door around the left-hand corner at the end of the hall.

      “Room,” he called back. “I told you I have an assignment to work on.”

      “Well, I’d like to meet your friend. Where are your manners?”

      He shot me an exasperated look like it was my fault. If only he knew I was even less inclined to meet the person I was guessing was his mother. The less I knew about Tobias King, the better. He gestured for me to go back the way we’d just come, and I drew to a halt at the sudden appearance of the tall brunette from the couch. She had big, sad, dark eyes and chin-length dark hair, pale skin and freckles across her nose that, along with her trim, slender physique, made her look too young to be the mother of an almost seventeen-year-old boy. Appearance-wise there was very little of her in Tobias. I wondered if he took after his dad. And then I wondered where his dad was.

      She looked at Tobias and raised an eyebrow.

      He sighed heavily, as if she were forcing him to do something unpleasant. “Mom, this is my English presentation partner, Comet Caldwell. Comet, my mom.”

      “Hi, Mrs. King,” I said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

      “Call me Lena, please.” She spoke with a Scottish accent muddled by an American one.

      “Okay.” I smiled, but it faltered as her gaze drifted over me in an assessing manner and I suddenly realized I should have perhaps dressed more conservatively for coming to Tobias and Stevie’s flat. I was wearing a dark green velvet skirt with a black-and-green striped top with arms that were tight at the wrist and then puffed out in balloon sleeves. On my feet were green flats with an oversize yellow bow on the front.

      Not giving away her thoughts, Lena turned to her son. “Carole is worn-out. Try to keep it down.”

      “Where’s Kieran?” Tobias asked.

      If I remembered correctly, Kieran was Stevie’s little brother. He was around six or seven years old.

      “In Carole’s room reading. I’ll keep an eye on him. You just get your homework done like you promised.”

      “That’s what Comet’s for,” he said.

      Ass.

      His mum seemed to think it was a crappy comment, too. “Don’t you leave all the work to Comet. Promise.”

      “I could make that promise, Mom, not keep it and you still wouldn’t do jack about it. That’s what you’re good at, right? Being a liar and doormat.” He didn’t wait for her to answer, just turned and bulldozed his way into the room behind us.