Myths And Facts About Boys That Every Girl Should Know [#1]

Myth Number 14: All Boys Who Like Girls Dislike Boys Who Like Boys

Fact: Unless they are, by some undefinable set of standards, ‘cool’. Then it’s ok.

xxxxxx

“…She is everything to me

The unrequited dream

The song that no one sings

The unattainable

She’s a myth that I have to believe in…”

The song plays softly from the car radio, seeping into me like misery. I try to turn it off but nothing makes it go away. I look up again to concentrate on the road, see it turn a sharp corner ahead. The seat is so comfortable I feel sleepy, secure. The words turn into a lullaby and I suddenly know the singer refers to me. This knowledge is my seatbelt, and now I look down only to turn the volume up.

Suddenly, the car speeds up without my direction and I am flung headfirst into the corner – but it isn’t a corner anymore. It is a wall. My seatbelt disappears and I am flung forward, out of the seat and into the windscreen, breath driven out of me as my head hits the dashboard –

“OW!” I scream as blinding pain rips through the side of my face and torso, instantly waking me up. I feel someone scrambling to get out of the way as I hold my face. “Motherfucker!”

A young gasp and giggling. “Muuum, Ather swore!”

I sat up in bed, dream fading away as my heart slowed and the pain turned into an ache. I held my face, opening my eyes to see Isaac, Matty and the triplets stealing guiltily from the room.

“You.” I glared at him, inspecting my hands. Blood was coming from somewhere on the side of my cheek and my ribs hurt. I brushed away shock tears.

“No, it was all them, I swear,” Isaac tried to defend himself, just as Pip interrupted, “It was not, Zacky, you threw Jasper on her. You liar.”

I glared at him again. “I knew it. You just can’t help yourself, can you, Zacky?” I rotated my neck gingerly as I got up, straightening the clothes I’d worn to bed, grateful I wasn’t flashing him. I stalked out to the living room and into the bathroom, ignoring everything and everyone.

“Ather, honey, are you ok?” Mum asked me as I re-emerged, hair slightly straighter (well, sort of) and eyes more open. I also stuck a little bit of tissue on the graze on my cheekbone to stop it putting little red smears everywhere. I must have copped a shoe to the head or something. It sure feels like it.

“Yes, I’m fine, no thanks to a certain annoying idiot who thinks they can just throw children at someone who is sleeping and not hurt them.”

“Hmm. Yes. Well, the idiot in question is currently out getting more firewood, so consider him duly punished.”

“What’s so punishing about ferrying bits of wood from one place to another?”

“When I say getting I mean chopping. Out in the cold.”

“Oh,” I said, suddenly happier. “That’s alright then.”

I sat down to breakfast and looked out the window. It was, indeed, bleak and cold-looking. The sky was grey and everything was wet. A low cloud covered the mountains all around us, making the day seem even gloomier.

“Nice day.”

Dad nodded enthusiastically. “Isn’t it? We never get days like this at home, what with the drought – I was thinking a bushwalk would be a great idea, amongst all that beautiful green – ”

“Dad, I was being sarcastic. The only way you’re getting me in those mountains today, and away from our nice warm fire, is if you drag my cold, rotting carcass into the bush and leave it there.”

“Well, if that’s what it takes,” he replied, trying to be funny.

“Ha, ha. Hil-arious, Dad.”

My breakfast finished, I got up from the table and went to get changed. It was warmer than yesterday in the house but still kind of on the chilly side. I swapped my comfy tracksuit pants for other comfy tracksuit pants, slippers and a hoodie. Mmm. Warm.

I heard a tentative little knock on the door and turned around to see Jasper in the doorway. He looked sheepish.

“Sorry for being thrown at you, Athy. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“S’ok, Jasper. No hard feelings.”

“Wanna come play Uno with us?”

I mentally checked my schedule. Nope, nothing better to do. May as well.

“Sure. Who else is playing?”

“Umm… it’s just me and Pip and Timmy and Matty and Dad and Jake so far.”

“Wow… Jake is interacting with humans? Deal me in. Be with you in a sec.”

I grabbed a hair band and tied up my slightly-dirty hair, making a mental note to wash it. Then I went back out to sit on the floor and picked up my cards.

“Ok, suckers, get ready to lose.”

“You wish,” Jake scoffed, throwing down a card on the top of the pile. “This game is mine.”

We continued to put down, pick up and collect piles of cards as the game went on, punctuated by cries of dismay, laugher and “Uno!” Only when the first game ended (John coming out of nowhere with a wild card and a blue Draw Two), did we hear the front door slamming and see Isaac walk through the room in only jeans, boots and a flannelette shirt.

“Zack, come play Uno!” Matty called to him, reaching out to grab his jeans as he walked to his and Jake’s room. Isaac almost tripped, but stopped.

“Not unless everyone who’s playing says they want me to as well,” he said, looking at me. I felt suddenly uncomfortable.

“I do,” Matty and the triplets chorused. Jake and then John said it soon after, until it was just me.

“Come on, Athy, don’t be a party-pooper,” admonished Pip.

I was forced to nod reluctantly. “Alright. I want you to.” Isaac nodded in return and started to sit down. “But only so I can kick your ass.”

He sniffed, and pulled a hanky out to blow his nose. “Whateber.”

I felt a bit bad for probably being the cause of the blocked nose, but one touch of the graze on my head reminded me and the righteous anger slipped back into place.

John dealt. “Alrighty, kids, prepare to lose again.”

“No way,” Isaac said, “It’s alright, guys, I’m here now. You won’t have to suffer through him winning again. I’m going to.”

I snorted, always a lady. “I think not.”

We kept playing, Matty and the triplets yelling in abject despair every time they were skipped or had to pick up even a single card, convinced it would set them back years of strategy. At one point, out of sheer desperation, Timmy decided to change the rules.

“You can so put a red Draw Two on a Wild Card! Jasper did it!”

“Yeah – because whoever put the Wild Card down said the colour was red.”

“So why can’t I do it?” he whined.

“Because Pip said the colour was yellow this time, buddy. You can only put yellow cards down, remember?” Isaac said, placating. “Or another Wild Card.”

“But I don’t have one of those.”

“That means you have to pick up, dummy,” Pip told him.

Timmy just pouted and did exactly that. “This is a stupid game.”

“A stupid game, yes…” said Isaac, laying down his last card. “A stupid game that I just won!”

The others groaned but I just grinned. “No, you didn’t, retard.”

“I did too. No cards, see?”

“You didn’t say Uno.”

He just stared at me. “Yeah… yes I did, I swear it.”

I turned to the others. “Did you guys hear him say Uno?”

They slowly shook their heads. “I don’t think so…” said Jake just as slowly.

“I did! Swear to God! You have to believe me!”

Now everyone was sharing in my grin, watching as he tried to cover up his mistake. “No you did-unt,” sang Jasper, pushing the pile of cards towards him. “You’re so dumb, Zach. Everyone knows you have to say Uno when you only have one card. It’s the rules.”

Isaac looked dumbfounded that his little brother was being so condescending. “Damn it!”

I smirked again, then patted him on the shoulder with mock sympathy. “Don’t worry. I forgot how to play Duck, Duck, Goose once. It was just as embarrassing.”

He just shook his head.

Mum stuck her head in the door. “Hey kids, want to go rent a video?”

“Yeah!” The triplets and Matty all yelled, getting up and abandoning the card game. Renting videos here is exactly that. Videos. We don’t have a DVD player, and the VHS works, so it means a lot of old movies.

Funnily enough, the kids love them.

“Ather, Isaac – would you take them? I don’t want them walking there on their own,” Mum said, not so much asking as assuming we would.

I groaned. “Do I have to? Why can’t Jake, he’s old enough - ” I looked around for someone to pin it on but Jake had disappeared suddenly. He is annoyingly good at that.

Isaac was nodding. “It’s ok. I’ll take them.”

He was so accepting and mature about it that I instantly felt childish. Curse him. “Fine. I’ll go.”

We went to change into ‘wet weather’ clothes and the most waterproof shoes we had. After getting money off parents we all left, traipsing down the hill toward the other hill and then the other one that eventually led to the one general store in town. It’s sort of a combined supermarket, newsagency, video store, internet café and town souvenirs place.

“Ather! Come cross the bridge!” shrieked Pip as the others ran ahead to cross a little bridge over a creek that was on the way. Isaac had hidden under there, waiting until he heard footsteps above him before leaping out and doing the whole ‘Troll under the bridge’ thing.

It was kind of cute, in an annoying way.

I went to also cross the bridge, thinking Isaac had moved from underneath because I couldn’t see him. I checked, just in case, and he wasn’t.

Safe, right?

Wrong.

I thought he’d gone ahead with the kids, who were shrieking their way up a hill. I crossed the bridge slowly, watching the water trickle underneath me, slowly wearing away at the rocks and moss that shaped the tiny waterway. I got so hypnotised that I didn’t notice the crunch of shoe on ground behind me, nor hear the deliberately quietened breathing.

Not until it was too late, anyway.

“Aaaaaah!” I screamed for the second time in twenty-four hours as Isaac grabs me from behind and goes to roughly shove me off the bridge.

I could feel his hand still holding onto my arm where he grabbed me, holding me on, and for a moment thought I was ok. Then, horrified, I felt my feet give way underneath me as I lost my balance, and I fell forward. Off the bridge.

Or so I thought.

I gasped and closed my eyes, not wanting to see what came next, but instead of feeling the icy cold of the water three feet below us I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist and I came to an abrupt halt.

“Shit, Ather,” Isaac said as he pulled us both to safety using the one and only handrail, “You can’t just get scared, can you? You have to almost fall off a bridge too.”

My heart was racing but I still managed to breathe and glare at him at the same time. “If you didn’t insist on constantly hurting me or scaring me or throwing children at me, that wouldn’t be a problem, would it?! Is it that hard to just leave me alone?!”

He at least had the grace to look sheepish. “Sorry.”

“Whatever.”

I turned to walk off the bridge and felt him grab me by the upper arm again. Rage and confusion welled up inside, making me splutter, “What the hell? Did you just not listen to a word I said?”

He let go, looking straight at me. “Yeah, I did, but you weren’t going to look at me just because I asked you to. I meant it, ok? I really am sorry. I don’t mean to keep on hurting you.”

“Um. Ok, then. Apology accepted.” I wasn’t expecting him to be so serious. It was odd. Normally he’s so sarcastic or aloof.

“Good,” he said, smiling. Then he cocked his head. “I can’t hear the others anymore. We should probably catch them and re-leash them before they do anyone damage. We don’t want to get sued by someone claiming their eardrums are permanently out of it.”

I laughed, something totally at odds with my mood a couple of minutes before. “Good point. Race you?”

I didn’t give him too much time to be confused at my mood change and took off. I made it over the bridge ok – a shock in itself – but only made it halfway up the sleep incline of the street before he caught up with me.

“Damn… these… hills…” I puffed as he slowly drew ahead, grinning.

“Come on, Kitty, put your back into it,” he called over his shoulder. Argh! I hate that nickname so much!

I pushed harder, slowly closing the gap, but by the time I got close we had made it up and he had beaten me.

“God… dammit… I coughed, shocked at how exhausted I was just from one sprint up a hill. “I set myself up for that one.”

“Yep,” Isaac replied, only just out of breath. “Can you see the others?”

I saw a flash of pink – Pip – in a window and nodded in that direction. “Sort of. Let’s try there.”

They were indeed in the store, poring over chocolate. I went to check out what magazines they had while Isaac supervised the candy and video-getting. Most of them were his siblings anyway, I reasoned.

They didn’t really have anything good, but I was desperate for something to read, so I picked up the latest Kerrang! just for the sake of it. I took it to the counter just as the others were coming back with their choices.

Behind the counter was a guy maybe a tiny bit older than me and Isaac, with short brown hair and, from what I could tell, a good body underneath his winter shirt. He was, I thought as he scanned our stuff and put it in a bag, quite hot, actually. I hoped he hadn’t noticed me checking him out.

We exchanged pleasantries as Isaac handed him the money our parents had given us, and he gave back the change with a look I couldn’t quite place. The kids grabbed the bag and ran out as we followed, slightly slower.

“I can’t believe you bought Kerrang!” Isaac told me as we walked out. “That’s almost as gay as that guy in there.”

“What?” I asked, surprised. Then it dawned on me. The look. I burst out laughing. “He was totally checking you out, too.”

“Shut up. That’s not the point. You bought Kerrang!”

“You got checkout by the only gay guy for a hundred kilometres. That is totally the point.”

Isaac just rolled his eyes. “It could have been worse. He was wearing a Killswitch Engage shirt, if you didn’t notice.”

I gave him a Look. “Oooh, Isaac’s in looove,” I teased, laughing as he struggled to find the right words.

“I am not gay; I can prove that to you right now. I just don’t have a problem with guys that are. As long as they don’t hit on me, and they’re cool, it’s fine.”

“As long as they’re cool? What does that even mean?” I said, wondering what he meant by ‘prove it’.

“I dunno… just cool.”

“Right…”

“Ok, I know it doesn’t make any sense. It’s just… I don’t know, sort of a vibe. Like, if they’re comfortable with it and there’s boundaries and stuff, whatever. I don’t care. It’s when they’re insecure, and act overly gay, or make a big deal of it or whatever that it gets annoying. You know?”

“Sort of,” I said, beginning to understand. “So if they act like they should get special treatment because of it, it’s not good…”

“Yeah, exactly. I don’t expect special treatment ‘cause I’m not gay so why should they get it? It’s just stupid. I don’t get why people are so hung up about it. Who even cares?”

“As long as they don’t hit on you.”

“Well, yeah. Sexual harassment is sexual harassment no matter how you swing. Also PDA should be discouraged. That’s my one point of prejudice, I can’t stand seeing guys make out.”

“Haha. Good point, I guess.” It was weird hearing Isaac talk like this. I just expected him to have a problem with gay guys the way a lot of straight guys do. He keeps surprising me.

It took a significantly shorter time to get back to the house because of the smaller amount of steep hills. I decided to forgo the bridge this time, not willing to take any chances. I thought I’d got through to Isaac but you never know with guys.

We walked in to find the video already playing, the four younger ones firmly ensconced on chairs or the couch. There were static-y lines over the screen and no sound which indicated someone was fast forwarding it.

“Have… You… Got… What… You… Paid… For? Phone!” they all chorused, watching the screen as an ancient video piracy ad ran across it. It was, I thought, the best part about DVD. Apart from the ‘Warnings’ about piracy and stuff, there wasn’t fifty thousand previews to work your way through before you got to the Feature Presentation.

“Hey,” Isaac said as an old ratings ad flashed past, “I have that movie! It’s absolutely brilliant.”

“Which one?” I asked, trying to figure it out but getting nowhere.

“Ransom,” he said, “You know, Mel Gibson…”

“Um, no…”

“You haven’t seen it?!” he asked me incredulously. “Unbelievable. Well, you’re in luck. It’s in my DVD case that I brought. Our portable player should be in the car. I’ll make you watch it later on.”

“Great…” I said, not really looking forward to it at all. Isaac’s movie taste is of the more twisted psychological horror movie type of genre. You know, Saw, Se7en, Hostel…

Once the kid’s movie had finished – I love Home Alone – I decided to get my schoolbooks out and at least attempt some English. I’d brought some of my Art major with me – it’s made up of a lot of smaller parts – so I thought I may as well try that too.

I hadn’t got far into it before being once again press-ganged into making tea, though. The walk had taken longer than I expected, so it was nearly dinner time.

“Curse this need for people to eat,” I muttered as I chopped up broccoli.

Dinner was over sooner rather than later, so Isaac jumped up and went to get their portable DVD player, ostensibly from the car. He returned holding a bright green CD case and what looked like a laptop bag.

“Coming?” he asked, tipping his head toward another room to point the way. I got up to scrape my plate, slightly reluctantly, not convinced it was going to be the experience Isaac assured me it was.

“Alright,” I said, following him, and sat down as he set up the player. “This better be good.”

“Oh, it is. It has Gary Sinise in it. You know, Mac? CSI New York?”

“Oh, ok. Um, cool.”

Much to my surprise, it was. Good, I mean. There was a very edge-of-the-seat aspect to it which meant a lot of gasping and mouth-covering. Isaac just sat there, looking at me and either smirking or shaking his head.

In fact, I was really enjoying it, right up until the part where Mel Gibson screams into a phone “GIVE ME BACK MY SON!” and Isaac takes the opportunity to reach over suddenly and grab me on the knee, hard, making me jump about four feet in the air!

I screeched in shock, as much from slightly painful impact (he hit me hard) as being scared.

Isaac burst out laughing, practically collapsing back on his seat and gasping for air. He kept miming toward my face, spluttering with mirth. “You… you shoulda… ahahahaha… you shoulda seen your f-face.”

“Shut up,” I snarled. “That was not funny.”

“Actually,” he said, still grinning broadly, “Yes it was.”

“Was not,” I muttered, watching the screen once again.

This was it, I decided. It is on. I’m done taking his crap.

Time to dish out some of my own.