The Art of Being Emily - Katie MacAlister Page 0,50
“Too young? TOO YOUNG? Just what do you mean by that?”
“Maybe 'young' isn't the right word. I just meant that I’d want you to know me a lot better before we...er...did anything.”
“Smart boy,” Brother said, waving a piece of curried chicken at him. “Got a good head on your shoulders. Where did you say you’re going to school?”
“Oxfordshire Agricultural College.”
“He’s going to be a vet; isn’t that nice?” Mom said.
I glared at Fang. “Young?”
“Inexperienced?” he asked.
I thought about it for a minute, then got back into my chair. “It’s better.”
“Good,” Brother said, and smiled at Mom. “You see? There’s never a wrong time to discuss these things.”
I breathed a sigh of relief and picked up my fork. Brother had embarrassed me, but it wasn’t a mortal embarrassment. I had survived it, and Fang didn’t look shocked anymore.
Suddenly Brother looked up and pointed his fork at Fang again. “You include oral sex in that statement, too, correct? She’s too young for that, as well.”
“GAH!” I shouted, then grabbed my plate and Fang’s. “Come on, Fang, we’re going to eat in the library where there are no sex obsessed deranged old people trying to ruin the shreds of what’s left of my life.”
Be back in a mo. Have to get some aspirin. Just thinking about last night has made my headache worse.
I have a head that would kill a normal human, but not me, oh, no—I have to survive so I can relive again and again the horrible calamity of last night.
Where was I? Oh, yeah, the Brother Incident. Fang and I had our dinner in the library, and he actually told me that his dad once threatened to cut off his balls if he got a girl pregnant, so that made me feel better. That I'm not the only one whose father is sex-obsessed, that is, not that Fang's dad threatened to cut off his noogies.
Anyway, we managed to avoid the Sex Fiend for another hour, then off we went to Devon's for the big party.
“I thought you didn't have a car,” I said as we got into a ratty little VW. He held the door open for me, which at first I thought was really romantic, until he explained that it had to be closed from the outside, or else the door would pop off.
“It's my mate's,” he said, gunning the engine. It died twice. He gave me an apologetic little smile. “It needs a bit of work.”
“That's OK. It's awfully nice of you to offer to take me to Devon's.”
“My pleasure.”
Devon doesn't live too far from us, but in an expensive neighborhood. The houses are all set way back off the road, and surrounded by big stone fences with iron gates. You know, the kind of houses that have names.
Devon lived in one called Penhallow, a huge pink stone house with lots of windows and a separate five-car garage. It was really impressive, and I was glad I'd shaved earlier, because it was the sort of place that you don't want to go into with hairy armpits.
“Wow, that's some house,” I said as Fang opened the car door for me. “Dev's dad is a coroner.”
“A coroner?” I asked, smiling to myself when he took my hand. We started up the curved drive toward the front steps. “Isn't that the guy who does stuff with dead bodies?”
“That's right. Dev's dad is a coroner with Scotland Yard. Very important. Gets called in on all the sensitive cases.”
“Oh. Cool. I think. You don't think he brings his work home with him, do you?”
Fang laughed and squeezed my hand. “No, I'm sure he doesn't. You're not nervous, are you?”
Oh, God, how did he know? “No, of course not. Why do you ask?”
“Because you're cutting off the circulation in three of my fingers.”
“Oh.” I loosened my grip on his hand, but I didn't let it go altogether. I'm not stupid! “You should see me when I'm really nervous. You wouldn't be able to feel anything below your elbow.”
He laughed again and rang the doorbell. A group of two guys and two girls came up behind us, calling to him as the door opened. Some guy I didn't recognize greeted Fang and waved us in. The hallway was gorgeous, black and white tile on the floor, a big curved wrought iron staircase sweeping up to the floor above (first or second, I can never keep it straight what they call it here), a huge chandelier, and