Free The Prince of Two Tribes by Sean Cullen Page B

unreasonably mean to Brendan. But anyone who has a sister will not find fault in my portrayal of Delia, for they’ll know I am more than likely not being harsh enough.
    Sisters can be extremely annoying. I have a sister who is never satisfied until she’s driven me slightly mad. When we were children, she used to sneak into my bedroom and glue my pyjamas to my bedsheets. Very annoying. Then there was the time she mailed me to France. What can I say? I’m a very deep sleeper. I woke up in the mail-sorting office in Paris. The supervisor almost choked on his croissant.
    Surely, my sister was an extreme and sadistic case. (She is currently in prison serving five years for mail fraud.) But the stakes are high for Brendan, and a nosy sister is the last thing he needs. He is keeping a lot of balls in the air, and those balls are of different weights and sizes. Every once in a while, another ball is tossed to him and he must react swiftly or risk dropping everything. Sometimes he has to pass one ball under his leg or behind his back …
    All right. I’m exhausted with this juggling metaphor. Shall we continue? Let’s throw some more balls at Brendan.

EVISCERATION
    The next day, Sunday, Brendan awoke to find BLT tapping at the window. The temperature had dropped and snow had fallen overnight, the first of the season. Christmas was just over a week away. He let the tiny Faerie in out of the cold.
    “About time!” BLT grumped.
    “It’s not like you feel the cold, anyway,” Brendan pointed out.
    “Not the point!” She shook snow off her wings and burrowed under his duvet, refusing to respond to his apologies.
    It was one of those rare days when both his mother and father were home. He joined them for breakfast at the kitchen table while listening to them making their plans for the day.
    “We have to get the tree put up,” his mother said, referring to her to-do list on the table in front of her. “And I need you to get the decorations out of the bins in the basement.”
    “Absolutely, dear,” his father answered absently. He was preoccupied by the highlights from last night’s game on SportsCentre. The tiny TV on top of the fridge held at least half of his attention. “Decorations.”
    “Hey, Dad,” Brendan interrupted. “Did they win?”
    “Lost in a shootout.”
    “Bummer.”
    “They played hard, though.”
    “Sure.” Brendan shook his head. Part of being a Toronto Maple Leafs fan was hoping against hope that this season would be better than the last, though it rarely was. Still, you stayed with your team through the good and the bad. When they actually did win, the victory would be worth waiting for. That was his father’s philosophy, at least. Brendan thought it sucked to be a Leafs fan, but his father had left him no choice. He’d been indoctrinated since he was a baby. 29
    “What have you got on for today, Brendan?” his mother asked.
    “I’m gonna try and get together with Harold and Dmitri. And maybe do some Christmas shopping.”
    “That’s good. They were really down when you didn’t show up yesterday.” His mother raised an eyebrow. “Friends are important, Brendan. And not just girlfriends, either.”
    “Mu-um.” Brendan was pleased that his mother seemed to be buying the girlfriend ruse, which might give him a little more time to work with Greenleaf and Kim in the days before the Challenges. “Where’s Dee?”
    “She said she had some errands to run. Probably shopping at the mall with her friends. She left a few minutes ago.” His mum stood up and put her coffee cup in the sink. “I’m going to take a shower and then we’re going to get a tree.” She waited for her husband to respond. “Edward?”
    “Hmm?” His father tore his eyes from the television. “Oh, okay. Fine. I’m ready any time.”
    Satisfied, Mum kissed Brendan on the forehead and went upstairs, leaving him alone with his father. Brendan chewed his toast, watching the game highlights in silent companionship