Free Influence by Stuart Johnstone Page A

unknowing.
    ‘I mean it
must be hard on you guys.’ Robe shrugged in a what you gonna do gesture.
    ‘We deal
with it,’ he said. ‘When she’s at a low ebb I tend to take care of financial
matters, bills, school fees that sort of thing. And Vic does the house chores.’
Lizzie suddenly remembered the envelope stuffed with cash she saw in his bag.
She didn’t want to say sorry again, and couldn’t think of anything else to say
so they sat in silence for a few minutes until Vic returned carrying a small
stereo. He plugged it in and retrieved a tape from a pile in the corner of the
room. Classical music, badly recorded, dramatically filled the room. Some up
tempo number by a long dead composer Lizzie had probably never heard of.
    On the way
home Lizzie had to concede to herself that she had enjoyed the evening. The
role-playing she could take or leave but to spend some time in the company of
people her own age had been nice. The boys had seemed to love the chance to
involve someone new in their game too. Vic had kept his flirting to a minimum
and she had even caught Robe laughing from time to time. The only sour note had
been on her way out of the house. She had passed by, what must have been, their
Father’s office and heard him in there. At first she thought he was arguing
with someone on the phone but then realised that it was a drunken rant with
either himself or some apparition in his intoxicated head. Vic had shown her
out and had, this time, looked a little embarrassed, keeping his voice low. Lizzie
could only imagine what might happen if they had caught his attention. Vic had
hugged her at the door; Lizzie had returned the hug, patting him on the back in
what she hoped felt like a platonic gesture.

Eight
     
     
     
    Vic plagued
Lizzie with questions on their way into school, desperate to know whether she
had enjoyed the role-playing. She admitted that she had been pleasantly
surprised and that she was particularly impressed with how creative he could
be. ‘How come you’re not that creative in English class? I mean you had that
whole story prepared and you must also have been improvising a bit too
depending on what me and Robe did at any time,’ she asked him.
    It was
Thursday morning which meant Robe had no classes before lunch and left Vic with
Lizzie all to himself, however whenever Lizzie was alone with him he seemed
petrified, as if his brother was the source of his courage. The silly flirting
gave way to awkwardness and a tendency to talk relentlessly to fill every moment
blocking any chance of a lull.
    ‘That stuff
is easy, you don’t have to worry about grammar or structure or even whether
anyone else will like it because once you start playing you can just change it
round if it isn’t working,’ Vic was on course in English to achieve the lofty
heights of a B at best, according to the prelims, which is why an evening
filled with Vic’s own compelling, if a little cheesy, creative writing had come
as something of a surprise. ‘It was good fun last night, you know Lizzie, you’re
not like other girls I know,’ he said as they turned off the road into the
school grounds.
    ‘Yeah? What
other girls do you know?’ Vic wanted to respond but he had nothing, Lizzie’s
sour joke lingered in the air. ‘I’m sorry Vic, what I mean is thanks, I had a
good time too, really. Normally magic and dragons and all that aren’t my thing
but you did good Vic. What’s Robe doing with his morning off?’ she said moving
the conversation on.
    ‘He was
still in bed when I left, which is a bit weird normally he’s first one up, I
guess we just played too late last night. You guys have philosophy this
afternoon though right?’ asked Vic playfully kicking a pine cone along the long
driveway into school before a wayward strike sent it off under a bush.
    ‘Yeah, last
class before exams start, kinda scary. Are you all set for finals?’ asked
Lizzie.
    ‘As I’ll
ever be.’ Vic shrugged, his hands thrust into