Chapter 7

As the final bell rang, Morgan began to panic. 

‘How will I survive the weekend without seeing him?’

She shifted from foot to foot, biting her nails as he approached. 

“Damien, erm, there’s a party tonight—”

“I don’t do parties,” he interrupted, screwing his face up as though she’d suggested going dogging with a bunch of OAPs. 

“Yeah, have you ever seen us at any of your little parties?” Jay asked, making air quotes around the word parties.

Now he mentioned it, she’d never seen the alternative kids outside of school except for the odd times in coffee shops or supermarkets.

“Well, what do you guys do after school?” she asked.

A couple of them exchanged meaningful looks, as though indicating they didn’t want her hanging out with them. She couldn’t really blame them. Still… it hurt to feel excluded just because of how she dressed.

‘I’ve done that to people so many times,’ she realised.

“Hello, Karma, my new best friend,” she muttered.

“Huh?” one of the other guys asked. Kenny something or other. He was a quiet kid, one with lots of problems. He was always getting in trouble for carrying blades, though he mainly used them to etch graffiti into the tables.

“Oh, I’ve just been feeling the effects of Karma these past few days,” she clarified.

“You believe in Karma?” he asked, looking sceptical.

“I guess so. I never thought about it much before today,” Morgan admitted.

The other guy in the group—Shane—whispered something under his breath about airheads. He was probably one of the least attractive kids she’d ever met, and she’d been less than kind to him in the past. If she was going to become part of their group, she had some serious grovelling to do.

‘And maybe I could learn to value people on qualities other than their looks.’

“I’m just going home.” Damien shrugged.

“Can I come with you?” Morgan blurted without pausing to think. 

“The social convention is that you wait to be invited,” Damien said, making the others snicker. “But since you seem so desperate, I’ll allow it.”

Morgan felt her chest swell and her heart pound at the idea of meeting his family and seeing his house. Her lips curled up into an involuntary smile, one that must have looked horribly dopey because it triggered another round of snickering from his friends.

“Come on, then,” he said, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her along. His house was only a street from her own, in what was considered the posh end of town. It wasn’t posh as such, just not as hopelessly run down as the council estates that made up the rest of Castleborough.

When he opened the front door and walked in, Morgan followed, feeling awkward about being in a new place. Since he took off his boots at the door, she followed suit, leaving her converse underneath the already overfull shoe rack. 

“Mum, Morgan is staying for dinner,” Damien announced, leading her into the kitchen. The way he demanded rather than asking seemed rude, but Mrs. Cross smiled and nodded.

“Hello Morgan,” she said before returning to her task. “Lucy, can you finish making dinner, please? I have a shift at five.”

Lucy, your typical grumpy teenage girl, gave Morgan the once over before complaining. “Why does Damien never have to do chores? It’s so unfair and… masoji—masogan—”

“Misogynistic,” Damien finished for her.

“Go ask Tom to help then,” Mrs. Cross suggested. 

“What? Did someone say my name?” An older guy asked, popping his head around the kitchen door. His eyes almost fell out of his head when he saw Morgan standing in the kitchen. Morgan had this effect on men of all ages, so she was used to it by now. He looked like an older version of Toby, athletically toned with floppy brown hair. The old Morgan would have straightened up and pushed out her chest in his presence.

Tom continued to stare before clicking his fingers. “You’re Morgan Riley. I follow you on Instagram. What are you doing here?”

She took a breath, poised to answer in the most embarrassing way before Damien graciously cut her off. 

“Tom, meet my new girlfriend, Morgan,” he said.

Tom laughed. “No. Seriously?”

Tom looked at Damien then back at Morgan.

“Why?”

“What kind of a stupid question is that?” Morgan snarked before she could filter herself.

Both Damien’s mother and sister chuckled at her response. 

“You tell him, Morgan,” Mrs. Cross said. “Are you vegan?”

“I am now,” Morgan said, trying to smile in a way that was enthusiastic looking instead of forced.

“That reminds me, I’ll show you all the video of what happens to male chicks,” Damien said.

“Oh, please, Damien,” the sister cried in an overly dramatic fashion. “I’m still traumatised by the pig video. I keep having nightmares about little crying piglets.”

“Again, I ask, why are you with him?” Tom asked, but held up his hands in surrender when he saw the sour looks he was getting.

“Maybe we could just imagine what happens to the chicks,” his mother suggested. 

“If you’re willing to have your conscience eased by lies, how long is it before you become the commodity?” Damien asked. He took a deep breath to continue before his mother caved.

“Okay, okay, we’ll watch,” she said, putting down her knife.

As a family—a family plus Morgan—they sat down in the living room, waiting as Damien synced his phone with the smart TV. 

As the video played, Morgan had to look away, grimacing.

‘Maybe Damien and the other vegans have a valid point.’

The sister turned to Damien, burying her head in his chest. 

“Damien, why do you like torturing us?” she whined. “You’re so mean.”

He placed his hands on either side of her head and turned her to face the screen. “Just watch.”

Oddly, while the girl looked horrified by the chicks, she seemed happy to have Damien touching her. 

‘They have an odd relationship,’ she thought.

“I have another one about how the animals in slaughterhouses know they are about to die—” Damien said, taking his hands off his sister to fiddle with his phone.

“We’ll all agree to go vegan,” his Mum said. “No more videos. Please, Damien.”

Her tone was so pleading, as though Damien was likely to tie them to chairs Clockwork Orange style and force anti-meat propaganda upon them. Most parents she’d met would just tell their kid to get stuffed.

“Come on, you can watch me play Day of Dragons,” Damien said, pocketing his phone. 

“Oh Damien, this is why you are going to be a virgin forever,” Tom teased him.

“Hey, I’ve had girlfriends,” Damien argued.

“Your hand doesn’t count,” Tom continued to jibe.

“Don’t listen to him,” Damien spoke gently to his hand. “Our relationship is both real and magical.”

Morgan couldn’t help but giggle as she followed him to his bedroom.

“You seem close with your sister,” she commented. Oddly close. 

“Stepsister. I’m an only child,” he said.

“Oh.” Morgan frowned.

“Yes, Lucy obviously has a crush on me, but my Mum and Gary say its normal for girls her age. I just have to ignore it,” Damien explained. 

Morgan nodded. It seemed a little weird to her, but she wasn’t about to quiz him any further and risk offending him. Maybe it was normal, who knew? Her mother had never once shown interest in remarrying, so stepsiblings weren’t in her future.

While Damien fiddled around on his computer Morgan looked around his room. It was the exact opposite of hers; dark, dank and with a funky smell she couldn't quite identify. With the windows closed and the blinds pulled down, it was hardly surprising. She was always having to force Toby to air his room out.

As she looked over at Damien, she imagined what his reaction would be if she tried to force hygiene upon him. Picturing his 'death stare,' she decided against it.

She looked at his book collection, surprised by the selection. He had Kafka, Nietzsche, J.R.R. Tolkien, and a load of books without titles that could be diaries. 

When she returned to him at his computer there was nowhere to sit, so she lingered for a minute before sitting on the floor.

"Go ask Tom for his spare chair," Damien demanded. "His room is the next one to the left."

The thought of knocking on the attractive older brother’s door and asking for a chair made her uncomfortable, but she found she couldn't say no to Damien when she opened her mouth to protest, and nothing came out. 

Feeling awkward, she shifted down the hallway and knocked on Tom's door. He opened with a smile and hung out of the doorframe.

"Morgan Riley," he said.

"Can I borrow your spare chair, please?" she asked. 

Tom fetched the chair but kept his hands on the wooden frame as he passed it over. 

"You really want to sit and watch Damien play a computer game?" he asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. It was understandable, considering she never allowed Toby to ignore her in favour of FIFA. Ignoring your partner to play a game was plain rude. 

'Only I'm not really his girlfriend. He's punishing me,' Morgan thought.

She rolled her eyes and shrugged, trying to indicate her unwillingness to discuss her relationship.

"If I had a girlfriend as hot as you, I'd pay attention to you, not a silly game," Tom said.

"Oh, I wonder what Katie would say about that," Damien asked, appearing in the doorway. He waved his phone as a recording started to play.

Tom's voice uttered the words, "If I had a girlfriend as hot as you, I'd pay attention to you, not a silly game," over and over as Tom tried to grab the phone from Damien's hand.

Tom jumped and missed. In a panic, he rugby-tackled Damien to the ground, pinning him and then sitting on him as he deleted the video. 

"Ha," Tom said as he dropped the phone by a red-faced, sweaty Damien. 

Morgan wanted to throat punch Tom. Seeing the older, stronger lad hurt her precious Damien made her insides curl up in anger.

'Pure, unadulterated rage,' she thought. 'All I need now is coffee.'

Damien rolled his eyes as he sat up. "He's gonna regret that."

Morgan wondered what he'd do as she followed him back to his computer, dragging the wooden chair behind her.

He alt-tabbed out of his game and opened his Google documents, bringing up the video Tom deleted moments ago.

"He's too dumb to realise google phones autosave everything to the computer they are synced to," Damien said. "That's what you get for being a lame poser with an Apple phone."

Morgan nodded, flushing with shame over the Apple phone burning a hole in her pocket.

"You're not going to send it to his girlfriend, are you?" Morgan asked, laughing. She figured he deserved it after pinning Damien to the floor.

"Watch this," Damien said. He created a post on his social media, tagging Tom.

Within seconds Tom was pounding on the door.

"Damien, you prick! Take that down right now or I'm gonna…" Tom cried as he pounded on the locked door. “I’m gonna kill you!”

Morgan and Damien exchanged smiles, giggling quietly.

"Damien, seriously man, take it down, quick," Tom said, his tone becoming whiny. "Come on, man, she's going to see it."

"Damien, don't be a dick," he continued.

When Damien opened the door, Tom fell backwards into the room as he'd been leaning on the door. He had this strained, desperate look on his face.

"Please, Damien?" he asked. "If she sees that she'll..."

"What? Dump you? I would," Damien said.

"I'm begging you," Tom whined, pressing his palms together in prayer. "Please, Damien."

"Are you going to join the rest of the family in going vegan?" Damien asked. 

Tom let out a sharp sigh. "Yes, whatever you want, just quick, before she sees it."

Damien shrugged, tapped at his keys and said, "Done."

Morgan noticed the way Tom didn't look at her as he left. He seemed embarrassed, probably about flirting with her so openly while clearly loving his girlfriend. 

'What a nob,' she thought.

"Dummy," Damien said. "I set the post so only he could see it."