“Gianni, sit down, the weather’s on.”
He sat back down. “Geez Christ.”
We ate the rest of our dinner in silence and fear, hoping Dad wouldn’t live up to his promise. He had before. I spent one dinner crying because I couldn’t leave the table after he hit me. I nearly choked on my potatoes that night. He wasn’t always like this. Sometimes, he joked around with us and we all had a peaceful dinner. It really depended on the day he had, how much he had to drink or how much money he lost at the TAB.
I was still eating when Abby started to clear the table. I was probably the slowest eater in the world. While the others scoffed their meal down in five minutes, it normally took me twenty minutes just to eat a bowl of pasta. It was a horrible curse to have while living in the Romanelli household. It meant I was always stuck drying the dishes. In my books, that was the worst job to do.
It was double the work. Drying, then putting the items away and because it was the longest job ever, usually the others fled the scene and left me by myself in a long, uncomfortable silence with Dad. And, I hated that more than drying!
I preferred to wash, though Carla rushed to the sink first and never let anyone else have a turn. If the chores were rotated, maybe I wouldn’t create a stink whenever we had to do it, but they weren’t and it was the same repetitive thing every night.
Carla was already at the sink, fidgeting with the taps to get the right temperature. It was the cue I needed and I had to make a quick getaway before anyone noticed. I walked slowly through the lounge room, sneaking into my bedroom, grabbing my book, and then I hurried through the corridor — not too fast to make it noticeable but kind of like the cha-cha. One, two, quickly shuffle along and repeat the steps again until I was safe in the toilet and I could relax. It was a technique I had perfected and knew very well.
I pulled my pants down and sat on the seat. I didn’t have to do anything but I had to pretend I was, in case one of my sisters came barging in. Just as I was really getting into the novel Carla called out my name.
“What?” I yelled back.
“Come and dry!”
I groaned as softly as I could. I swear I hated drying!
“I can’t, I’ve got cramps!”
“It’s amazing how every night, when it’s time to do the dishes, you suddenly have cramps!” Carla screamed.
I tried not to laugh. “It’s not my fault, I can’t digest food properly!” That was true. Most of the time I did suffer from cramps — either period pain or concerning my bowels. Sometimes the pain was so sharp, I lost my breath. Tonight though, I really couldn’t be bothered.
“Whatever! You’re just lazy!”
Lazy…the one word I hated with a passion. Carla knew it too, hence the reason she said it. I wasn’t lazy. Okay, I didn’t do much around the house but I had better things to do than to waste my time vacuuming the carpet or doing the beds. I was not a maid, nor was I going to be the perfect housewife, preparing meals and doing the household chores. I couldn’t see that in my future and even if I didn’t end up becoming successful in the writing industry, I still wouldn’t clean. I would hire a maid and let them do the jobs I truly hated and refused to do.
I thought I would ignore the comment this time. Usually I would snipe back and defend myself but Dad was already in a bad mood and if he got involved, that was it. I wouldn’t be allowed to go out. I could still hear Carla bitching about me though and it was getting me angrier. My sisters always did it in front of Dad, just so they could get me into trouble.
Ten minutes later, after I heard the final dish being put into the cupboard, I flushed the toilet, to give it the final affect, and then headed into my bedroom to get ready for bowling. I was a bit hesitant about leaving Mum on her own with Dad but I couldn’t call Sav and cancel. He was already on his way and besides I needed to go out. I was so angry; if I stayed I knew there would be more trouble.
The car beeped at exactly seven-thirty. As Abby and I went outside, my legs started to tremble. I had expected to see Zia’s car parked outside the gate, but it wasn’t. There was a van instead and there was only one person I knew who drove a van. Bob Tammurello — Brayden’s dad.
“Abby,” I squeaked, grabbing her arm.
“I know.”
“I can’t believe Brayden’s here. Sav didn’t even tell me he was coming.”
“Just relax!”
“Relax? How can I? How do I look?”
She laughed at me. “You look great.”
“Hi,” we said, getting into the van in the last row. Tessa and Sav were sitting in the middle, with Brayden in the front with his dad. Brayden smiled at me and I wished I had ice to cool me down.
We arrived at the bowling centre within ten minutes, which were ten whole minutes of small talk and the nervous fluttering in my chest. I didn’t speak to Brayden once. I didn’t want him to think the kisses meant anything but I didn’t know how to act around him.
We paid for the game and received our shoes, walking up to the lane. As I was putting on the bubble-toe footwear, thinking the red and black stripes would have looked better on a clown instead of on my small feet, Brayden walked past me and casually thumped me on the arm.
“Ouch!” I said, hitting him back. It didn’t really hurt, but I thought I would boost his ego a little bit. Besides, it was a way to start a conversation with him.
“Did that hurt?” he asked.
“Yeah it did.”
“Sorry,” he said laughing.
“Shut up,” I said, going to hit him again. He moved away from me, still laughing.
“You’re such a girl,” Sav said.
“Well, I am a girl; didn’t your parents ever teach you the differences?”
“Ha ha, you’re funny.”
“Yeah I think I am,” I said, walking up to Tessa and Abby who were typing in our names on the computer.
“Who’s going first?” I asked them.
“Can’t you read?” Abby snickered.
“Shut up bitch.”
“Brayden’s going first, then Sav, you, me and Tessa.”
“Okay then, sounds good.”
I was hopeless at bowling. I had only played it a couple of times and I really sucked the last time I did.
Brayden picked up a ball and rolled it down the lane, hitting eight pins. Pretty good, I thought. I would be lucky if I even hit one. Brayden had another turn and received a spare. He sat down next to me and we watched as Sav ran down like a professional bowler, swinging the ball high in the air, and then released it down the lane. I tried not to laugh at him. He seemed as if he knew what he was doing. I was sure he was going to get a strike, yet he only knocked five of the pins right down the centre. The rest would be harder to get as there were two on one side and three on the other.
“I called Lizzie today,” Brayden said.
“Oh did you? What did she say?” I asked, pretending to be interested in the game and trying to conceal my despair. I knew I shouldn’t be upset but I was.
“She’s going to call you so we could make plans or something. Maybe watch a movie?”
“Sounds good.”
“You spoke to Vinnie today, huh?”
“Yeah, how do you know?”
“Well, he rang me this morning