Chapter 10: Zane
I’d got Brock invited to Bleeker’s party. That was step one. And it was so far going well.
He was fitting in well. Not that I’d have called Bleeker’s party a particularly exclusive one, and the guest list reflected that. It was basically whoever Bleeker had enthusiastically invited on the spur of any moment, in addition to the core Pops.
People wandered around, chatting and yelling and laughing. Some were drinking, some weren’t. Some were dancing, some weren’t. Some were hooking up, some weren’t. But everyone was having a good time.
Thea was there with her new boyfriend. I saw them engaged in some overly-enthusiastic vertical dry-humping. I almost suggested they get a room. Had it been anyone else, I would have. But I knew Thea and she’d think it was proof I was pining after her. And I wasn’t. I wasn’t even lying to myself this time. When I saw them, I felt nothing but the normal amusement I felt at anyone else in that situation…as well as a weird urge to talk to Charley.
Instead of calling Charley, I focussed on my promise to her.
Find out more about Brock.
On the surface, I couldn’t see what the two of them had in common.
Brock needed a tutor in every subject just to get a C average. Charley was one of the smartest kids in our school and rolled her eyes at the smallest suggestion of ignorance.
Brock didn’t watch any movie without a half-naked girl in it. Charley didn’t care how naked anyone got as long as there weren’t any structural inconsistencies.
Brock was living life large, soaking up being in the spotlight. Charley’s dream was sitting at home and not having to deal with the greater human population. If there were a hoard of cats and dogs, then all the better. Naturally, Brock was allergic to all fur.
But otherwise, he seemed like a decent guy.
I guess.
He had the whole party in stitches as he regaled them with some story from footy training. Girls giggled super obviously – like Jesus, just throw yourselves at him already. The guys all nodded in agreement with whatever came out of his mouth. He never missed a beat, everyone liked him, and he even had fake modesty down.
Someone that apparently perfect? He had to be hiding something.
He wasn’t even that great.
In fact, he was kind of annoying.
His laugh was too loud.
He was so self-centred that he just kept talking while everyone fawned all over him, no matter if anyone else had anything to say.
He was too tall. Like, was it really necessary to be seventeen and over six foot? Who even was that tall? Other than Jett…
His hair was too shiny. And not greasy shiny, but like lustrous shiny. Charley assured me only the most pedantic of haircare routines achieved such radiant results.
And he was handsome. Why was he so handsome? No one needed to be that handsome. There had to be enough subjectivity in the world that he didn’t need to be objectively handsome.
But I kept all that to myself.
I laughed as loud as the rest. Grinning in approval when Brock looked at me as Jory clapped Brock on the back. I lifted my beer to Brock and nodded.
Yep. Great joke. Well done. You could totally be one of us.
Gag me.
Brock wasn’t even that funny.
And what kind of name was Brock anyway?
The stupid kind, that’s what.
Brock.
It screamed douche.
No self-respecting dude let people call him Brock. He shortened it. Or went with whatever nickname had stuck in junior school. His last name was Davidson. Davo at the very least. I mean, come on. It wasn’t that hard; Australians made nicknames out of everything and the old shorten the word and add an ‘o’ thing was our default. It never failed to meet approval.
Unlike Brock.
“Stupid name,” I muttered.
“What, mate?” Bleeker asked, nudging me.
I looked at him and tried to think of anything I could have been thinking about other than how stupid Brock’s name was. I looked at the beer in my hand.
“Moo Brew,” I said and held it out to him, hoping that covered it.
He frowned. “Moo Brew? What’s wrong with Moo Brew?” He looked at his own can in confusion.
I could get into this. I hoped. “I mean, I can understand if it was Roo Brew, right? But Moo Brew? What’s that mean?”
“Why would Roo Brew make more sense?”
“Well, it’s more Aussie.”
Bleeker nodded. “Not wrong. Isn’t it German, though?”
“I thought it was done here?”
“Where’s it from?” he asked, peering at the can.
I shrugged and had a look at my own can. “Tassie, I think.”
“Yeah. Says there.”
We banged heads as we tried to look at the same can, then laughed.
But as much as I could just talk about whatever with the boys, I never felt quite right. I never felt quite… Whole was the wankiest word ever. But it was kinda like that. I felt like something was missing. Something that had me making excuses and pushing outside, had my phone in my hand as I took a sip of my delicious if lost opportunity named Moo Brew.
“You’ve reached the den of inequity. How may I direct your call?” was how she chose to answer the phone.
“Hey, hey Charley!” I said with a chuckle.
“I hope you didn’t drive,” was her sardonic reply.
I shook my head. “Nope. Eden volunteered to pick me up.”
“You mean your parents volunteered her?”
“That one.”
“Don’t you have a party to wow?” She sounded busy but was obviously not busy enough to tell me she was busy. “What are you doing calling me?”
“I was thinking of you.”
“You were?” I didn’t know why she sounded so surprised. I thought about her a lot.
I nodded. “I was.”
“What made you think of me?”
I had no idea. The usual things. That would sound stupid to say though. “Brock’s here.”
“Who?”
“Brock.”
There was a pause. “Oh, right yeah. Brock. How is…Brock?”
“He’s…” a total goober, way too shallow and arrogant, and not good enough for you… “good. The boys think he’s hilarious.”
“A glowing recommendation, by all accounts.” I could hear the smile in her voice.
I was grinning like an idiot. “What about my recommendation?”
“What about it?”
“Does it count?”
“Does it count after I already told you I like him?” she scoffed.
I nodded. “Yeah. Girls like being validated right?”
Charley snorted. “I’m going to give you a pass on that one because you’re drunk and I have to hope you don’t actually mean it.”
“No!” I cried. “That’s not what I meant.”