fic: One Of England's Finest (4/5)
Tuesday, 3 February 2009 23:19![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
extemporallypart iii.
The next week was an exceedingly uncomfortable one. Spencer and Brendon still ate at the same table every day, but Spencer didn’t seem as inclined to talk. Brendon wasn’t quite sure if he had made up with Ryan yet, and didn’t dare to ask.
"How’s Ryan doing?" He’d asked, rather timidly, the first day Ryan was suspended.
A stormy expression quickly settled across Spencer’s face. "He’s doing," was all he would say from behind his drink glass, before slamming it down on the table.
Brendon jumped a little. Spencer looked briefly sorry, but not enough to apologise; and Brendon knew not to ask any more about Ryan.
--
When Ryan finally returned the next week, Brendon found him at their regular lunch table, calmly eating his pudding first, as always, as though nothing untoward had happened. He seemed oddly unconscious that the boys at the nearby tables were staring at him, and that some of them were making crass remarks. Brendon, from a few paces away, cocked his head, as though looking at him sideways could possibly make him understand Ryan better, then realized that he was concentrating so hard on ignoring all the rest of them that the hand clutching at his spoon was almost white. Spencer was nowhere to be seen.
Brendon decided that Ryan had to be put out of his misery, like, straightaway. Even though he wasn’t quite sure how to go about doing it, he bounced over and put his tray down with a clang. Ryan looked up, and gave him a look of vague disinterest, as though Brendon was someone he’d seen before, in an unfamiliar situation.
"Oh," Ryan said. "It’s you."
Brendon smiled widely. He didn’t even have to force it, either – he’d really missed Ryan. "Yes, me! I missed you, Ryan Ross. Where’s Spencer?"
The tension was back in Ryan’s shoulders. "I don’t know."
Brendon wanted to ask more – usually, Spencer and Ryan were within two-meter radiuses of each other at any given moment, despite the fact that they were in different forms – but the look on Ryan’s expression told him enough and he fell silent, not knowing what to say.
Soon enough, Spencer came along with his lunch tray, which he put on the table, next to Brendon, without bothering to say anything. Brendon was startled – usually Ryan and Spencer sat together, always, but neither of them said a word.
"Um, hello," Brendon said uncertainly. Spencer grunted, and picked his fork and knife and plowed through his fish determinedly. Spencer didn’t even like fish.
Brendon shrugged and looked helplessly at Ryan. Both of them ignored him.
Brendon sighed. Clearly, a week hadn’t been enough for them to make up.
--
The week wore on. One afternoon, Brendon went out of Malory Towers for a walk. It was silly, he knew, to sneak out of school for something as banal as a walk, but he felt like it – and Spencer and Ryan weren’t much fun nowadays, seemingly determined to send each other to Coventry.
The strangest part of the matter was that they still went everywhere with each other, and anyone not in the know wouldn’t have guessed that they were fighting – they seemed as close as they ever were, and on days when any of the other boys seemed inclined to heckle Ryan for his incident with Pete, Spencer would straighten up, summon his most threatening look and the boy in question would back down. They would just refuse to talk to each other, or even acknowledge each other’s presence, it seemed.
Brendon was fed up and frustrated with the both of them, and he didn’t know if this was the first time they’d had such a fight, or if it was something that happened periodically or otherwise. He hoped it was a one-off. He hoped they would eventually make up, and soon.
Eventually he started to relax and look about him. The flowers looked especially pretty today, and the last time they’d all had a walk together Ryan had made Spencer pick them for him, and had put them in his hair and pockets un-self-consciously. When Spencer had laughed at him Ryan merely smirked and pointed out the daffodils that he’d sneaked into Spencer’s pocket, unbeknownst to him. That was when Brendon had started trying to fit the entire flower into his mouth, and Spencer had elbowed him and went, "Disgusting, Urie", effectively forgetting about the flowers in his pocket for another five minutes.
Brendon smiled a little; those had been good times. There could have been more, had they not decided to have their argument.
As he entered a field he thought he saw another figure. Squinting, he realized that it was Jon Walker. "Jon!" he bellowed, and bounded across the field.
As he got closer he realized that Jon was holding something in both hands. "Hey, Walker," he said, and Jon looked up and smiled.
"What’s that?" Brendon asked.
"They’re kittens, I found them wandering around the field. I’ve been looking for their mother, but she’s nowhere to be found."
Brendon looked at the kittens. Both of them were tiny and emaciated, their eyes barely open. It was a safe bet that their mother wouldn’t be returning, wherever she was.
"Oh," Brendon whispered, voice going soft, as though being rambunctious might harm the kittens. "One of them – its paws are damaged." He leaned forward, trying to ignore the heat of Jon’s body, and his aftershave. Stop it, he told himself firmly. This is not the right time. Aha, another voice in his head whispered wickedly. So there is a proper time, then.
Just then, it began to rain again. Jon glanced up at the sky and groaned. "Why," he asked the grey clouds above him, "does it always rain on me when I meet you?"
Brendon strutted a little; he couldn’t help it. "Behold," he declared grandly, "the Rain God."
Jon released a bark of laughter before a raindrop hit his little finger. He looked down again, concerned, one of the kittens mewled with protest and tried to curl up weakly, its paws pushing against its sibling. "We’d better go back," he said, turning around.
"Wait!" Brendon said. As Jon looked at him, Brendon took his blazer off and laid it carefully over Jon’s hands, still cradling the kittens. Then he started running in earnest, looking behind him as Jon laughed and started to run too. They made it back to the school grounds, just as the rain got really heavy.
"Well," Jon said, leaning against a wall, "We made it."
Brendon beamed at him. "Yes, yes we did." There was a pause, and Brendon said, "So what are you going to name them?"
"Dylan for the male one," Jon said firmly. "And Clover for the girl."
Brendon raised an eyebrow. "Dylan, as in up-and-coming poet Dylan Thomas? Good choice."
Jon looked surprised, while Brendon made a sound that could have been described as tutting, had he not been a boy. "Don't be so surprised that I know Dylan Thomas, Walker. I have Learning." Jon caught his eye, and Brendon couldn’t help dissolving into giggles. "Also, Ryan loves him," he admitted. "I never would have figured you for the poetic sort, though."
Jon said loftily, "I'm a photographer, Urie. I have a sensitive soul." Then, he blushed - Brendon found it endlessly endearing - and said, "I've set his poetry to melodies."
"No way!" Brendon said excitedly. "Really?"
Jon smiled lazily, the corner of his mouth quirked up a little. "Yes, really. I play the sousaphone, mostly, but that isn't really good for the music I write so I'm writing it for the trumpet."
"Trumpet melodies," Brendon murmured. And then – he didn’t know why, or how he got the guts to do it, but he leaned forward and kissed Jon.
He noted, somewhat absent-mindedly, as he leaned forward, that the kittens, getting more and more squashed between Brendon and Jon, as they moved closer, seemed to have fallen asleep.
Jon let out a startled squeak, and Brendon had about half a second to think oh no I’m doing this wrong, I shouldn’t even be doing this at all before he opened his mouth, half to speak, and Jon licked his way into Brendon’s mouth, and he felt something warm curl and uncurl in the base of his belly, just slightly, and he couldn’t help but smile against Jon’s mouth.
Just then, a clap of thunder resounded against the sky and Brendon and Jon looked up, reminded that they weren’t actually in the building yet. They looked at each other, and sprinted the rest of the way to the school. Jon broke off at the entrance, saying, "I'm bringing the kittens to -" and gestured meaninglessly.
Brendon touched his mouth, and said, "You do that."
With a nod, Jon was gone. Brendon leaned against the banister, at the foot of the stairs, and caught his breath. Well, he thought.
--
The next day Brendon couldn’t stop smiling, and once or twice he drifted out of the classroom on dream-clouds, completely failing to pay attention during classes when he thought of Jon. This was bad, and he almost always got caught, since he was seated in front, but Brendon didn’t care. It was silly and he was acting like a girl, but he couldn’t stop smiling and touching his lips. He was floating, practically.
Ryan and Spencer, however, didn’t notice. Brendon had no doubt that at most times they would have been on him in an instant, but these days they were putting more effort into ignoring each other than paying attention to him. Brendon decided not to worry about that – if they’d found out, possibly they would disapprove. Well. Ryan wouldn’t disapprove on principle, and Spencer said he didn’t care – but both of them were indubitably wary of Jon Walker, even if he’d eventually gotten them to admit that the Cobra rumours were nothing but a pile of lies.
--
"Pass the salt, please, Brendon," Spencer said at lunch, even though the salt cellar was right next to Ryan, and about the same distance from Brendon as it was to Spencer, since they were sitting next to each other.
Brendon shrugged and passed it along, stretching as he did so. His shirt – untucked at the time – lifted to reveal his back, just as Jon Walker passed by, and smiled at him. Brendon jumped a little and felt oddly bare, sitting down just as Spencer tugged at Brendon’s shirt and Ryan glared at Jon. Brendon went red and looked down – he hadn’t exchanged a single word with Jon since yesterday, when they’d rescued the kittens. And kissed, Brendon thought. Never forget the kissing. He smiled again. As if anyone could forget.
"So!" Brendon said, desperately trying to change the subject, as well as clear his head: "You heard about Jon’s kittens? Let’s go see them, after we finish lunch!" He hoped he’d made it clear enough that both of them were included in the invitation.
After a beat, in which it was clear they didn’t want to speak at the same time, because it would mean acknowledging each others’ presence, Spencer said, "That sounds like fun."
Ryan said in his flattest, most vicious monotone, "Dylan and Clover are ridiculous names."
Brendon slumped down in his chair. Honestly, the both of them were impossible.
--
When Brendon was young, he fought with his siblings all the time. And when he was really young, more often than not the fights would end in Brendon crying. Other than that first time when he’d cried and cried and really meant it, when the rabbits they kept were called family pets instead of his pets, he resorted to crying as a defence, to make his older sisters look bad, and hopefully feel guilty. They’d drop their dolls and look uneasily at each other, before racing over to him and hugging him. As they grew older Brendon learnt that crying wasn’t necessarily the most manly defence, and they learnt to walk away and ignore him – but once Kara had gotten so sick of his crying she’d walked over and punched him in the stomach, before glaring at him, her hands clenched into fists on her hips. Brendon’d expected cuddles – so he was surprised. It didn’t hurt much, but the shock of it made tears continue to leak out the corner of his eyes, while he’d stopped wailing.
That was his family, though, and even when their sibling feuds burst into violence that shocked Brendon, he still knew it would pass over as quickly as they came, soothed by their sermonizing father who always made them pray extra hard during bedtime.
The point of it all was that Brendon didn’t understand this long, drawn-out passive-aggressive warfare between Ryan and Spencer, wherein they continued doing almost everything together, but with Brendon as a shield against each other. As if they might kill each other, if left alone – or as if it would kill them to talk to each other. Spencer, for some reason, was unquestionably angry with Ryan, but not because of what he did – or at least, that’s what he said, but Brendon doubted Spencer was the type to deny that he was angry over it.
It made Brendon’s head hurt, and throughout their spat he could feel the tension between the both of them building up rather than abating. He knew it was complicated, the shared history between Ryan and Spencer making the labyrinth of their relationship tangled up in itself so that he could never hope to navigate it – and yet. Even he could tell that things between them were changing, in some inexorable way.
At least half-term was coming up soon. Brendon assumed they’d all spend time together, but at least Mrs. Smith would preside over their lunches. Being their only referee wasn’t just hard; it was enough to drive anyone to the madhouse.
--
It was half-term, and Brendon felt absolutely miserable.
It wasn’t because he was homesick and had no friends – that was a problem that had been more or less solved, a few weeks ago, but that he had friends that currently weren’t talking to each other.
All right, he did feel a little homesick, too. It was unavoidable – all the parents that inevitably swarmed onto Malory Towers at half-term only served to remind him of the fact that his parents were in China miles and miles away, preaching to the natives there. He was proud of them, really – he just wished they weren’t quite so self-sacrificing at times. His Uncle Frank was coming over to pick him up for a day out, but he was arriving later, and, well – it just wasn’t the same.
Anyway, that wasn’t the most immediate problem. Spencer and Ryan weren’t talking, and it was absolute hell.
Right now, they were in Brendon’s dorm, while everyone else was on the school grounds below, eating trifle and showing their parents around. Brendon felt rather depressed. He might have felt a little out of place with all those boys and their parents below, but the sun was shining and there was trifle, and up here the chilliness between Spencer and Ryan was enough to make hell itself freeze over, and hell was not a concept Brendon took lightly. He coughed nervously.
"What say you all to us going down for that jolly good trifle?" Brendon offered tentatively.
Both of them crossed their arms and tossed their heads disdainfully, without bothering to reply from where they were sitting, one each on Brendon’s side.
Even when they weren’t talking to each other, Brendon thought, they were still ignoring him! How’s that for unfair, he thought.
Brendon couldn’t help it; he rolled his eyes and got up. “I forgot my record, it’s still in the common room – I’ll go get it.” As he hurried out of the room he thought, vaguely, that this was the first time Spencer and Ryan had been left alone after their fight – they went home separately nowadays without bothering to wait for each other, and Brendon assumed they must stay in both their rooms while they were at home. Still, they were ignoring each other, so it should be fine, he reasoned.
As he hurried up the stairs back to his dorm, he thought he heard shouting. Brendon froze, then braced himself. As it turned out, Spencer was the one doing the shouting. Ryan was listening to him with narrowed eyes and a face that was getting increasingly redder; then he opened his mouth. Brendon hadn’t even known Ryan’s voice could contain that much inflection – he was a little shocked.
"That’s why I didn’t tell you, I just knew you’d be like that!
"
Spencer looked even more furious. "You mean angry that you didn’t tell me a single thing? I had to find out along with the rest of the school, Ryan, how do you think that felt like? I told you, I don’t care what you do with Pete Wentz or anyone else – you’re just, I don’t know, MY BEST FRIEND –" Spencer got so furious he went over to Ryan and they started shoving against each other angrily, Ryan pulling at Spencer’s hair – and it was only after a few seconds that Brendon realized that they were kissing.
Stunned and unsure of what to do, Brendon stayed in the doorway and continued watching them kiss (angrily, it seemed), and then Spencer and Ryan started mumbling into each other’s mouths unintelligibly. Only they seemed to be able to understand what the other was saying.
Brendon finally decided that he didn’t care about the sin of boys kissing – pushing any thoughts of his kiss with Jon Walker out of his head as he did so – it was just plain disgusting to see his best friends kiss.
He alerted Spencer and Ryan to his presence by clearing his throat discreetly; they paid him no mind. He edged into the room and went to sit on his bed; they continued kissing. Brendon looked at them, horrified – would they never stop? Finally he threw a dirty sock at them, it landed on Spencer’s shoulder. Only then did they jump apart, a line of spit lengthening between their mouths as they did so. Eurgh, Brendon thought. He reclined against his bed, and waggled his eyebrows at them.
"Ew, Urie. That is repulsive," Ryan said, picking the sock off Spencer’s shoulder with his index and thumb.
"Glad that’s settled," he remarked, hoping his voice didn’t sound too hearty. Thankfully, it didn’t. "Also, do not ever do that in front of me again, chaps. Now can we go for trifle downstairs now, and be charming to Spencer’s parents?"
"Um, sorry," Spencer mumbled. "Yes, trifle," he said, face all red. Brendon realized that Spencer was flustered – that was a definite first, he’d never seen Spencer flustered in the month he’d known him, and would have made fun of him had it not been so obvious that he was over the moon. Ryan, however, leaned gently against Spencer, touching his mouth and grinning dazedly. Brendon was pretty sure that he’d never seen Ryan smile that hard before, either. Neither of them made any move to go.
Brendon rolled his eyes and stomped over, taking each of them by the hand.
"Honestly, let’s go." He led them out the dorm. "Hurry up, or the trifle will be all gone." He bounced a little on the balls of his feet as he walked between them, so they probably knew how happy he was for them, and just plain happy they weren’t fighting any more.
By the time they reached the stairs, Ryan and Spencer had both managed to shake Brendon off and walked in front of him, shoulders bumping every step of the way. When they reached the landing Spencer reached over and straightened Ryan’s tie, which was askew from the way Spencer had tugged it earlier.
--
When they emerged into the sunshine, Brendon heard a voice call:
"Oh, there they are!" He saw Mrs. Smith hurrying towards them.
"Boys, where have you been?" she asked. "I’ve been looking simply everywhere for you! In the end, I had to make conversation with the Headmaster to pass the time, and he’s simply the dullest person on earth – can’t even tell me anything interesting about the both of you, unlike your Miss Asher, now there’s a lady -"
Ryan and Spencer were clearly only half-listening. Brendon watched as Ryan’s fingers flitted lazily over Spencer’s collarbone, on the pretext of adjusting his collar.
Spencer’s mother did not miss the motion, either. "Is everything all right?" she asked shrewdly. Ryan jumped apart from Spencer slightly, as though his fingertips had been singed.
"Oh, yes," Spencer said dazedly, shielding his eyes against the sun, "Everything’s all right."
Mrs. Smith beamed, and patted his hand. "I’m so glad that you boys have made up," she said, an arch expression on her face. Brendon took that as his cue to leap up and go searching for trifle for them all.
--
After half-term, the Jon Situation, as Brendon had taken to renaming it in his head, had not changed. Jon never did anything much to him – they weren’t thrown together either, so maybe that was it – possibly he just wanted to be friends. Brendon didn’t know how he felt about that.
Still, whenever the met and talked, in the hallways, Jon was never anything but friendly, and as a person who didn’t have many friends, Brendon treasured that very much. He didn’t really want to ruin it by asking, do you like me? In that way? Also, he wasn’t a girl.
There was that one time, Brendon thought, when William had, for some strange reason Brendon never really found out, dragged Brendon over to their lunch table and coerced him into taking a seat opposite Jon, risking Ryan’s extremely vicious eyes. Although, to be perfectly honest, William hadn’t seemed much bothered (“Pssh,” he said, tossing his head, “He’ll get over it. If not, sucks to him.”).
As a result, Brendon had spent an entire hour with Jon Walker and his crowd, also known as the Cobra crew for some unknown reason – he didn’t believe in those rumours, of course. Anyway, they were nothing but nice, and Brendon had enjoyed himself perfectly, even forgetting to be self-conscious halfway through, losing himself in a conversation about music with Jon and William. Little Adam Siska had been there, too, next to a boy whom Brendon knew only as the Butcher. They’d smiled at each other as he sat down.
In fact, Brendon admitted to himself, he only really got self-conscious when he stopped talking and looked across the table, and saw Jon looking at him with his dark eyes, and Brendon couldn’t stop looking back. It’s just that his bone structure is interesting, that’s all, Brendon told himself fiercely, willing himself not to blush too noticeably. He conveniently ignored the fact that he actually had no idea what bone structure was, it was just a term his mother used when trying to decide if Brendon favoured his mother or father in terms of looks more.
The next time he looked up, he caught a flash of something in Jon’s eyes, and Jon dropped his eyes immediately. Brendon was a little startled, but did his best to ignore it and asked Jon to pass him the pepper. Their fingers brushed, slightly, as Jon shoved it over the table.
Brendon looked down at his meal and realized that he had somehow finished his main course and only had his pudding left, so he didn’t actually need it. He blushed bright red and hoped that no one would notice.
--
"So," Spencer said, when Brendon returned to their table, "How was it?"
"It was good!" Brendon said enthusiastically. "You could’ve joined us, there was enough room at the table –" Ryan snorted.
"What?" Brendon said, indignantly.
"Nothing," Ryan said smoothly, "I just would’ve preferred to stay with Spencer, that’s all." They looked at each other, and Brendon would have bet anything in the world that their fingers were laced together, under the table.
"Honestly," Brendon said, rolling his eyes, "Stop acting like you’re the only ones around!"
Spencer looked at him and smirked, not bothering to move the arm that disappeared under the table. He jerked his head at the table where Jon was sitting with all his friends.
Brendon stared at him, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I was with… a whole tableful of other people? And your point is…?"
Spencer only smirked further. Ryan made a noise that Brendon couldn’t quite decipher – disgust at his inability to read Spencer’s mind? Contentment at holding hands with Ryan under the table?
Honestly, Brendon’s friends were complete sociopaths.
--
Brendon ducked down into the water and did a quick flip by himself in a corner of the pool, checking to see first that no one was looking. He did it again, then sighed. It simply wasn’t as fun as when he did it at home, with his older siblings making fun of him. He wished someone would do somersaults in the pool with him.
Malory Towers, despite being situated by the sea, also had a heated indoor pool. It was there that Brendon having gym class, together with everyone else. Their teacher, Mr. Hurley, hadn’t arrived yet, and everyone was fooling around in the pool with their friend.
Everyone except Brendon, that was.
Brendon sighed to himself again. At least all the fourth formers took their gym lessons together. Most of the time he’d be hanging out with Spencer, but Spencer had sprained his hand the week before and as a result, was now sitting disgruntledly to the side nursing his bandaged appendage.
Someone entered the arena, and Brendon looked up. All the boys fell silent momentarily, expecting to see Mr. Hurley, their gym teacher.
It was Jon. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, probably unused to having everyone pay such rapt attention to him.
"Uh, hey everyone. Mr. Hurley sent me to say that he’s held up at the moment and he won’t be coming in today. I’m supposed to make sure you all complete twenty laps after warming up properly…" he broke off, realizing that he probably had little to no hope of making boys a few years younger than him heed him. "How about you all just have fun in the pool splashing each other, or something. I’m supposed to make sure none of you drown."
The boys all sent up a whooping cheer as Jon waved his hand in a kingly manner, yes thank you thank you I am pleased to be your benefactor, then settled down on one of the beach chairs next to Spencer. Brendon narrowed his eyes and watched Jon say something to Spencer. He couldn’t hear Spencer’s reply to Jon either, but the catty expression with which it was delivered needed no interpretation. Brendon thought he saw Jon’s smile slip, just a little.
Brendon’s heart sank. Ever since Brendon’d told them about the midnight feast, Ryan and Spencer had only grown more suspicious towards Jon and his friendly attitude towards Brendon. And that was just ridiculous – Jon didn’t deserve this. Maybe it was relatively unheard of for a sixth-former to befriend someone in the fourth form out of the blue, but Jon wasn’t – he was nice, and he wanted to be Brendon’s friend. He thought about their kiss, and the way Jon had kissed back. Maybe something more. That thought was running into dangerous territory, so he shook his head and swam over.
He tried to stay underwater for the entire stretch. Two paces away from the edge of the pool, though, he couldn’t hold his breath any longer and his head popped up. Jon looked slightly startled, but Spencer crossed his arms and shot him a look that said, I saw you coming from a mile away.
"Hello, chaps!" Brendon wheezed, pulling himself up the edge of the pool. "How’s it going?"
Brendon hoped he wasn’t being too wishful when he thought he saw Jon brighten up. "We were talking about Spencer’s injury," Jon said. Brendon laughed, slicking his hair back, while Spencer blushed bright red. "Ryan and Spencer were horsing around when Ryan tripped and landed on his hand!" he announced gleefully. Brendon tried not to think about the exact circumstances of their horsing around, for he had been thankfully absent – and they had been terribly oblique about disclosing them.
"Thanks a lot," Spencer said sourly.
"So if he tries to tell you he broke it doing something incredibly heroic, then that’s just not true," Brendon said, hauling himself out of the water and hopping up beside Spencer to sling an arm around him. "Ergh," Spencer said, shoving at him, "you ass. Get off me, I’m all wet now."
"That’s what she said!" Brendon said gleefully, ignoring the fact that it was Ryan and Spencer who’d taught him that joke.
Jon laughed easily, crinkles forming at his eyes. He was such a nice guy, Brendon thought. How could anyone not like him? "I wouldn’t have thought Ross had enough body mass to break Spencer’s hand," he said.
Spencer’s eyes narrowed again. Even though mocking Ryan was his number-one favourite activity – a tendency that had only grown stronger since they had become booooyfriends, as Brendon liked to term them – laying into anyone who said anything that smacked of criticism towards him came a close second. He’d opened his mouth and Brendon had steeled himself for the inevitable deluge when someone called:
"Jon, Jon!"
Jon looked up, immediately alert. Soon Brendon, too, saw what the problem was : from the deep end of the pool there was a boy thrashing around wildly – only the top of his head and his arms were visible. Siska, Brendon thought wildly, Adam Siska. Little Siska was younger than most of the boys in his form, having come to Malory Towers a year early, but he’d settled in well and was liked by all. Most of the boys stood where they were in the shallow end, mouths agape.
Those nearer to him tried to tow him ashore, but could not manage to get close enough, due to his flailing arms. Brendon looked on, horrified.
Jon stood up, took his shoes and jacket off, and dived into the pool. Eventually he managed to wrap his arms around the still wildly flailing Siska, keeping the younger boy’s head above water at all times, and climbed out of the pool with a slightly blue-lipped and gasping Siska who seemed, nevertheless, mostly all right. The boys cheered wildly as he did so, and Brendon put two fingers to his mouth for a startlingly loud whistle that made almost everyone jump, and stare at him. For once, Brendon didn’t mind.
"Jolly good, Jon!" He called. Even Spencer looked mildly impressed, for once.
Brendon thought he saw Jon blush, or perhaps that was just the exertion from hauling Siska from the pool. In any case, Jon soon ducked his head and began to ask Siska if he was all right, and eventually insisted on bundling him to the Infirmary "just so Matron can have a look at you."
Brendon elbowed Spencer. "What?" Spencer said, looking as though he knew what Brendon was going to say already. Just then, Jon turned around to look at Spencer and Brendon, giving them a little wave. Brendon looked – really looked – at Jon, with his wet shirt clinging to his chest and damp hair falling into his eyes, and he bit his lip and didn’t say anything for the remaining ten minutes of lesson.
part v.
The next week was an exceedingly uncomfortable one. Spencer and Brendon still ate at the same table every day, but Spencer didn’t seem as inclined to talk. Brendon wasn’t quite sure if he had made up with Ryan yet, and didn’t dare to ask.
"How’s Ryan doing?" He’d asked, rather timidly, the first day Ryan was suspended.
A stormy expression quickly settled across Spencer’s face. "He’s doing," was all he would say from behind his drink glass, before slamming it down on the table.
Brendon jumped a little. Spencer looked briefly sorry, but not enough to apologise; and Brendon knew not to ask any more about Ryan.
--
When Ryan finally returned the next week, Brendon found him at their regular lunch table, calmly eating his pudding first, as always, as though nothing untoward had happened. He seemed oddly unconscious that the boys at the nearby tables were staring at him, and that some of them were making crass remarks. Brendon, from a few paces away, cocked his head, as though looking at him sideways could possibly make him understand Ryan better, then realized that he was concentrating so hard on ignoring all the rest of them that the hand clutching at his spoon was almost white. Spencer was nowhere to be seen.
Brendon decided that Ryan had to be put out of his misery, like, straightaway. Even though he wasn’t quite sure how to go about doing it, he bounced over and put his tray down with a clang. Ryan looked up, and gave him a look of vague disinterest, as though Brendon was someone he’d seen before, in an unfamiliar situation.
"Oh," Ryan said. "It’s you."
Brendon smiled widely. He didn’t even have to force it, either – he’d really missed Ryan. "Yes, me! I missed you, Ryan Ross. Where’s Spencer?"
The tension was back in Ryan’s shoulders. "I don’t know."
Brendon wanted to ask more – usually, Spencer and Ryan were within two-meter radiuses of each other at any given moment, despite the fact that they were in different forms – but the look on Ryan’s expression told him enough and he fell silent, not knowing what to say.
Soon enough, Spencer came along with his lunch tray, which he put on the table, next to Brendon, without bothering to say anything. Brendon was startled – usually Ryan and Spencer sat together, always, but neither of them said a word.
"Um, hello," Brendon said uncertainly. Spencer grunted, and picked his fork and knife and plowed through his fish determinedly. Spencer didn’t even like fish.
Brendon shrugged and looked helplessly at Ryan. Both of them ignored him.
Brendon sighed. Clearly, a week hadn’t been enough for them to make up.
--
The week wore on. One afternoon, Brendon went out of Malory Towers for a walk. It was silly, he knew, to sneak out of school for something as banal as a walk, but he felt like it – and Spencer and Ryan weren’t much fun nowadays, seemingly determined to send each other to Coventry.
The strangest part of the matter was that they still went everywhere with each other, and anyone not in the know wouldn’t have guessed that they were fighting – they seemed as close as they ever were, and on days when any of the other boys seemed inclined to heckle Ryan for his incident with Pete, Spencer would straighten up, summon his most threatening look and the boy in question would back down. They would just refuse to talk to each other, or even acknowledge each other’s presence, it seemed.
Brendon was fed up and frustrated with the both of them, and he didn’t know if this was the first time they’d had such a fight, or if it was something that happened periodically or otherwise. He hoped it was a one-off. He hoped they would eventually make up, and soon.
Eventually he started to relax and look about him. The flowers looked especially pretty today, and the last time they’d all had a walk together Ryan had made Spencer pick them for him, and had put them in his hair and pockets un-self-consciously. When Spencer had laughed at him Ryan merely smirked and pointed out the daffodils that he’d sneaked into Spencer’s pocket, unbeknownst to him. That was when Brendon had started trying to fit the entire flower into his mouth, and Spencer had elbowed him and went, "Disgusting, Urie", effectively forgetting about the flowers in his pocket for another five minutes.
Brendon smiled a little; those had been good times. There could have been more, had they not decided to have their argument.
As he entered a field he thought he saw another figure. Squinting, he realized that it was Jon Walker. "Jon!" he bellowed, and bounded across the field.
As he got closer he realized that Jon was holding something in both hands. "Hey, Walker," he said, and Jon looked up and smiled.
"What’s that?" Brendon asked.
"They’re kittens, I found them wandering around the field. I’ve been looking for their mother, but she’s nowhere to be found."
Brendon looked at the kittens. Both of them were tiny and emaciated, their eyes barely open. It was a safe bet that their mother wouldn’t be returning, wherever she was.
"Oh," Brendon whispered, voice going soft, as though being rambunctious might harm the kittens. "One of them – its paws are damaged." He leaned forward, trying to ignore the heat of Jon’s body, and his aftershave. Stop it, he told himself firmly. This is not the right time. Aha, another voice in his head whispered wickedly. So there is a proper time, then.
Just then, it began to rain again. Jon glanced up at the sky and groaned. "Why," he asked the grey clouds above him, "does it always rain on me when I meet you?"
Brendon strutted a little; he couldn’t help it. "Behold," he declared grandly, "the Rain God."
Jon released a bark of laughter before a raindrop hit his little finger. He looked down again, concerned, one of the kittens mewled with protest and tried to curl up weakly, its paws pushing against its sibling. "We’d better go back," he said, turning around.
"Wait!" Brendon said. As Jon looked at him, Brendon took his blazer off and laid it carefully over Jon’s hands, still cradling the kittens. Then he started running in earnest, looking behind him as Jon laughed and started to run too. They made it back to the school grounds, just as the rain got really heavy.
"Well," Jon said, leaning against a wall, "We made it."
Brendon beamed at him. "Yes, yes we did." There was a pause, and Brendon said, "So what are you going to name them?"
"Dylan for the male one," Jon said firmly. "And Clover for the girl."
Brendon raised an eyebrow. "Dylan, as in up-and-coming poet Dylan Thomas? Good choice."
Jon looked surprised, while Brendon made a sound that could have been described as tutting, had he not been a boy. "Don't be so surprised that I know Dylan Thomas, Walker. I have Learning." Jon caught his eye, and Brendon couldn’t help dissolving into giggles. "Also, Ryan loves him," he admitted. "I never would have figured you for the poetic sort, though."
Jon said loftily, "I'm a photographer, Urie. I have a sensitive soul." Then, he blushed - Brendon found it endlessly endearing - and said, "I've set his poetry to melodies."
"No way!" Brendon said excitedly. "Really?"
Jon smiled lazily, the corner of his mouth quirked up a little. "Yes, really. I play the sousaphone, mostly, but that isn't really good for the music I write so I'm writing it for the trumpet."
"Trumpet melodies," Brendon murmured. And then – he didn’t know why, or how he got the guts to do it, but he leaned forward and kissed Jon.
He noted, somewhat absent-mindedly, as he leaned forward, that the kittens, getting more and more squashed between Brendon and Jon, as they moved closer, seemed to have fallen asleep.
Jon let out a startled squeak, and Brendon had about half a second to think oh no I’m doing this wrong, I shouldn’t even be doing this at all before he opened his mouth, half to speak, and Jon licked his way into Brendon’s mouth, and he felt something warm curl and uncurl in the base of his belly, just slightly, and he couldn’t help but smile against Jon’s mouth.
Just then, a clap of thunder resounded against the sky and Brendon and Jon looked up, reminded that they weren’t actually in the building yet. They looked at each other, and sprinted the rest of the way to the school. Jon broke off at the entrance, saying, "I'm bringing the kittens to -" and gestured meaninglessly.
Brendon touched his mouth, and said, "You do that."
With a nod, Jon was gone. Brendon leaned against the banister, at the foot of the stairs, and caught his breath. Well, he thought.
--
The next day Brendon couldn’t stop smiling, and once or twice he drifted out of the classroom on dream-clouds, completely failing to pay attention during classes when he thought of Jon. This was bad, and he almost always got caught, since he was seated in front, but Brendon didn’t care. It was silly and he was acting like a girl, but he couldn’t stop smiling and touching his lips. He was floating, practically.
Ryan and Spencer, however, didn’t notice. Brendon had no doubt that at most times they would have been on him in an instant, but these days they were putting more effort into ignoring each other than paying attention to him. Brendon decided not to worry about that – if they’d found out, possibly they would disapprove. Well. Ryan wouldn’t disapprove on principle, and Spencer said he didn’t care – but both of them were indubitably wary of Jon Walker, even if he’d eventually gotten them to admit that the Cobra rumours were nothing but a pile of lies.
--
"Pass the salt, please, Brendon," Spencer said at lunch, even though the salt cellar was right next to Ryan, and about the same distance from Brendon as it was to Spencer, since they were sitting next to each other.
Brendon shrugged and passed it along, stretching as he did so. His shirt – untucked at the time – lifted to reveal his back, just as Jon Walker passed by, and smiled at him. Brendon jumped a little and felt oddly bare, sitting down just as Spencer tugged at Brendon’s shirt and Ryan glared at Jon. Brendon went red and looked down – he hadn’t exchanged a single word with Jon since yesterday, when they’d rescued the kittens. And kissed, Brendon thought. Never forget the kissing. He smiled again. As if anyone could forget.
"So!" Brendon said, desperately trying to change the subject, as well as clear his head: "You heard about Jon’s kittens? Let’s go see them, after we finish lunch!" He hoped he’d made it clear enough that both of them were included in the invitation.
After a beat, in which it was clear they didn’t want to speak at the same time, because it would mean acknowledging each others’ presence, Spencer said, "That sounds like fun."
Ryan said in his flattest, most vicious monotone, "Dylan and Clover are ridiculous names."
Brendon slumped down in his chair. Honestly, the both of them were impossible.
--
When Brendon was young, he fought with his siblings all the time. And when he was really young, more often than not the fights would end in Brendon crying. Other than that first time when he’d cried and cried and really meant it, when the rabbits they kept were called family pets instead of his pets, he resorted to crying as a defence, to make his older sisters look bad, and hopefully feel guilty. They’d drop their dolls and look uneasily at each other, before racing over to him and hugging him. As they grew older Brendon learnt that crying wasn’t necessarily the most manly defence, and they learnt to walk away and ignore him – but once Kara had gotten so sick of his crying she’d walked over and punched him in the stomach, before glaring at him, her hands clenched into fists on her hips. Brendon’d expected cuddles – so he was surprised. It didn’t hurt much, but the shock of it made tears continue to leak out the corner of his eyes, while he’d stopped wailing.
That was his family, though, and even when their sibling feuds burst into violence that shocked Brendon, he still knew it would pass over as quickly as they came, soothed by their sermonizing father who always made them pray extra hard during bedtime.
The point of it all was that Brendon didn’t understand this long, drawn-out passive-aggressive warfare between Ryan and Spencer, wherein they continued doing almost everything together, but with Brendon as a shield against each other. As if they might kill each other, if left alone – or as if it would kill them to talk to each other. Spencer, for some reason, was unquestionably angry with Ryan, but not because of what he did – or at least, that’s what he said, but Brendon doubted Spencer was the type to deny that he was angry over it.
It made Brendon’s head hurt, and throughout their spat he could feel the tension between the both of them building up rather than abating. He knew it was complicated, the shared history between Ryan and Spencer making the labyrinth of their relationship tangled up in itself so that he could never hope to navigate it – and yet. Even he could tell that things between them were changing, in some inexorable way.
At least half-term was coming up soon. Brendon assumed they’d all spend time together, but at least Mrs. Smith would preside over their lunches. Being their only referee wasn’t just hard; it was enough to drive anyone to the madhouse.
--
It was half-term, and Brendon felt absolutely miserable.
It wasn’t because he was homesick and had no friends – that was a problem that had been more or less solved, a few weeks ago, but that he had friends that currently weren’t talking to each other.
All right, he did feel a little homesick, too. It was unavoidable – all the parents that inevitably swarmed onto Malory Towers at half-term only served to remind him of the fact that his parents were in China miles and miles away, preaching to the natives there. He was proud of them, really – he just wished they weren’t quite so self-sacrificing at times. His Uncle Frank was coming over to pick him up for a day out, but he was arriving later, and, well – it just wasn’t the same.
Anyway, that wasn’t the most immediate problem. Spencer and Ryan weren’t talking, and it was absolute hell.
Right now, they were in Brendon’s dorm, while everyone else was on the school grounds below, eating trifle and showing their parents around. Brendon felt rather depressed. He might have felt a little out of place with all those boys and their parents below, but the sun was shining and there was trifle, and up here the chilliness between Spencer and Ryan was enough to make hell itself freeze over, and hell was not a concept Brendon took lightly. He coughed nervously.
"What say you all to us going down for that jolly good trifle?" Brendon offered tentatively.
Both of them crossed their arms and tossed their heads disdainfully, without bothering to reply from where they were sitting, one each on Brendon’s side.
Even when they weren’t talking to each other, Brendon thought, they were still ignoring him! How’s that for unfair, he thought.
Brendon couldn’t help it; he rolled his eyes and got up. “I forgot my record, it’s still in the common room – I’ll go get it.” As he hurried out of the room he thought, vaguely, that this was the first time Spencer and Ryan had been left alone after their fight – they went home separately nowadays without bothering to wait for each other, and Brendon assumed they must stay in both their rooms while they were at home. Still, they were ignoring each other, so it should be fine, he reasoned.
As he hurried up the stairs back to his dorm, he thought he heard shouting. Brendon froze, then braced himself. As it turned out, Spencer was the one doing the shouting. Ryan was listening to him with narrowed eyes and a face that was getting increasingly redder; then he opened his mouth. Brendon hadn’t even known Ryan’s voice could contain that much inflection – he was a little shocked.
"That’s why I didn’t tell you, I just knew you’d be like that!
"
Spencer looked even more furious. "You mean angry that you didn’t tell me a single thing? I had to find out along with the rest of the school, Ryan, how do you think that felt like? I told you, I don’t care what you do with Pete Wentz or anyone else – you’re just, I don’t know, MY BEST FRIEND –" Spencer got so furious he went over to Ryan and they started shoving against each other angrily, Ryan pulling at Spencer’s hair – and it was only after a few seconds that Brendon realized that they were kissing.
Stunned and unsure of what to do, Brendon stayed in the doorway and continued watching them kiss (angrily, it seemed), and then Spencer and Ryan started mumbling into each other’s mouths unintelligibly. Only they seemed to be able to understand what the other was saying.
Brendon finally decided that he didn’t care about the sin of boys kissing – pushing any thoughts of his kiss with Jon Walker out of his head as he did so – it was just plain disgusting to see his best friends kiss.
He alerted Spencer and Ryan to his presence by clearing his throat discreetly; they paid him no mind. He edged into the room and went to sit on his bed; they continued kissing. Brendon looked at them, horrified – would they never stop? Finally he threw a dirty sock at them, it landed on Spencer’s shoulder. Only then did they jump apart, a line of spit lengthening between their mouths as they did so. Eurgh, Brendon thought. He reclined against his bed, and waggled his eyebrows at them.
"Ew, Urie. That is repulsive," Ryan said, picking the sock off Spencer’s shoulder with his index and thumb.
"Glad that’s settled," he remarked, hoping his voice didn’t sound too hearty. Thankfully, it didn’t. "Also, do not ever do that in front of me again, chaps. Now can we go for trifle downstairs now, and be charming to Spencer’s parents?"
"Um, sorry," Spencer mumbled. "Yes, trifle," he said, face all red. Brendon realized that Spencer was flustered – that was a definite first, he’d never seen Spencer flustered in the month he’d known him, and would have made fun of him had it not been so obvious that he was over the moon. Ryan, however, leaned gently against Spencer, touching his mouth and grinning dazedly. Brendon was pretty sure that he’d never seen Ryan smile that hard before, either. Neither of them made any move to go.
Brendon rolled his eyes and stomped over, taking each of them by the hand.
"Honestly, let’s go." He led them out the dorm. "Hurry up, or the trifle will be all gone." He bounced a little on the balls of his feet as he walked between them, so they probably knew how happy he was for them, and just plain happy they weren’t fighting any more.
By the time they reached the stairs, Ryan and Spencer had both managed to shake Brendon off and walked in front of him, shoulders bumping every step of the way. When they reached the landing Spencer reached over and straightened Ryan’s tie, which was askew from the way Spencer had tugged it earlier.
--
When they emerged into the sunshine, Brendon heard a voice call:
"Oh, there they are!" He saw Mrs. Smith hurrying towards them.
"Boys, where have you been?" she asked. "I’ve been looking simply everywhere for you! In the end, I had to make conversation with the Headmaster to pass the time, and he’s simply the dullest person on earth – can’t even tell me anything interesting about the both of you, unlike your Miss Asher, now there’s a lady -"
Ryan and Spencer were clearly only half-listening. Brendon watched as Ryan’s fingers flitted lazily over Spencer’s collarbone, on the pretext of adjusting his collar.
Spencer’s mother did not miss the motion, either. "Is everything all right?" she asked shrewdly. Ryan jumped apart from Spencer slightly, as though his fingertips had been singed.
"Oh, yes," Spencer said dazedly, shielding his eyes against the sun, "Everything’s all right."
Mrs. Smith beamed, and patted his hand. "I’m so glad that you boys have made up," she said, an arch expression on her face. Brendon took that as his cue to leap up and go searching for trifle for them all.
--
After half-term, the Jon Situation, as Brendon had taken to renaming it in his head, had not changed. Jon never did anything much to him – they weren’t thrown together either, so maybe that was it – possibly he just wanted to be friends. Brendon didn’t know how he felt about that.
Still, whenever the met and talked, in the hallways, Jon was never anything but friendly, and as a person who didn’t have many friends, Brendon treasured that very much. He didn’t really want to ruin it by asking, do you like me? In that way? Also, he wasn’t a girl.
There was that one time, Brendon thought, when William had, for some strange reason Brendon never really found out, dragged Brendon over to their lunch table and coerced him into taking a seat opposite Jon, risking Ryan’s extremely vicious eyes. Although, to be perfectly honest, William hadn’t seemed much bothered (“Pssh,” he said, tossing his head, “He’ll get over it. If not, sucks to him.”).
As a result, Brendon had spent an entire hour with Jon Walker and his crowd, also known as the Cobra crew for some unknown reason – he didn’t believe in those rumours, of course. Anyway, they were nothing but nice, and Brendon had enjoyed himself perfectly, even forgetting to be self-conscious halfway through, losing himself in a conversation about music with Jon and William. Little Adam Siska had been there, too, next to a boy whom Brendon knew only as the Butcher. They’d smiled at each other as he sat down.
In fact, Brendon admitted to himself, he only really got self-conscious when he stopped talking and looked across the table, and saw Jon looking at him with his dark eyes, and Brendon couldn’t stop looking back. It’s just that his bone structure is interesting, that’s all, Brendon told himself fiercely, willing himself not to blush too noticeably. He conveniently ignored the fact that he actually had no idea what bone structure was, it was just a term his mother used when trying to decide if Brendon favoured his mother or father in terms of looks more.
The next time he looked up, he caught a flash of something in Jon’s eyes, and Jon dropped his eyes immediately. Brendon was a little startled, but did his best to ignore it and asked Jon to pass him the pepper. Their fingers brushed, slightly, as Jon shoved it over the table.
Brendon looked down at his meal and realized that he had somehow finished his main course and only had his pudding left, so he didn’t actually need it. He blushed bright red and hoped that no one would notice.
--
"So," Spencer said, when Brendon returned to their table, "How was it?"
"It was good!" Brendon said enthusiastically. "You could’ve joined us, there was enough room at the table –" Ryan snorted.
"What?" Brendon said, indignantly.
"Nothing," Ryan said smoothly, "I just would’ve preferred to stay with Spencer, that’s all." They looked at each other, and Brendon would have bet anything in the world that their fingers were laced together, under the table.
"Honestly," Brendon said, rolling his eyes, "Stop acting like you’re the only ones around!"
Spencer looked at him and smirked, not bothering to move the arm that disappeared under the table. He jerked his head at the table where Jon was sitting with all his friends.
Brendon stared at him, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I was with… a whole tableful of other people? And your point is…?"
Spencer only smirked further. Ryan made a noise that Brendon couldn’t quite decipher – disgust at his inability to read Spencer’s mind? Contentment at holding hands with Ryan under the table?
Honestly, Brendon’s friends were complete sociopaths.
--
Brendon ducked down into the water and did a quick flip by himself in a corner of the pool, checking to see first that no one was looking. He did it again, then sighed. It simply wasn’t as fun as when he did it at home, with his older siblings making fun of him. He wished someone would do somersaults in the pool with him.
Malory Towers, despite being situated by the sea, also had a heated indoor pool. It was there that Brendon having gym class, together with everyone else. Their teacher, Mr. Hurley, hadn’t arrived yet, and everyone was fooling around in the pool with their friend.
Everyone except Brendon, that was.
Brendon sighed to himself again. At least all the fourth formers took their gym lessons together. Most of the time he’d be hanging out with Spencer, but Spencer had sprained his hand the week before and as a result, was now sitting disgruntledly to the side nursing his bandaged appendage.
Someone entered the arena, and Brendon looked up. All the boys fell silent momentarily, expecting to see Mr. Hurley, their gym teacher.
It was Jon. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, probably unused to having everyone pay such rapt attention to him.
"Uh, hey everyone. Mr. Hurley sent me to say that he’s held up at the moment and he won’t be coming in today. I’m supposed to make sure you all complete twenty laps after warming up properly…" he broke off, realizing that he probably had little to no hope of making boys a few years younger than him heed him. "How about you all just have fun in the pool splashing each other, or something. I’m supposed to make sure none of you drown."
The boys all sent up a whooping cheer as Jon waved his hand in a kingly manner, yes thank you thank you I am pleased to be your benefactor, then settled down on one of the beach chairs next to Spencer. Brendon narrowed his eyes and watched Jon say something to Spencer. He couldn’t hear Spencer’s reply to Jon either, but the catty expression with which it was delivered needed no interpretation. Brendon thought he saw Jon’s smile slip, just a little.
Brendon’s heart sank. Ever since Brendon’d told them about the midnight feast, Ryan and Spencer had only grown more suspicious towards Jon and his friendly attitude towards Brendon. And that was just ridiculous – Jon didn’t deserve this. Maybe it was relatively unheard of for a sixth-former to befriend someone in the fourth form out of the blue, but Jon wasn’t – he was nice, and he wanted to be Brendon’s friend. He thought about their kiss, and the way Jon had kissed back. Maybe something more. That thought was running into dangerous territory, so he shook his head and swam over.
He tried to stay underwater for the entire stretch. Two paces away from the edge of the pool, though, he couldn’t hold his breath any longer and his head popped up. Jon looked slightly startled, but Spencer crossed his arms and shot him a look that said, I saw you coming from a mile away.
"Hello, chaps!" Brendon wheezed, pulling himself up the edge of the pool. "How’s it going?"
Brendon hoped he wasn’t being too wishful when he thought he saw Jon brighten up. "We were talking about Spencer’s injury," Jon said. Brendon laughed, slicking his hair back, while Spencer blushed bright red. "Ryan and Spencer were horsing around when Ryan tripped and landed on his hand!" he announced gleefully. Brendon tried not to think about the exact circumstances of their horsing around, for he had been thankfully absent – and they had been terribly oblique about disclosing them.
"Thanks a lot," Spencer said sourly.
"So if he tries to tell you he broke it doing something incredibly heroic, then that’s just not true," Brendon said, hauling himself out of the water and hopping up beside Spencer to sling an arm around him. "Ergh," Spencer said, shoving at him, "you ass. Get off me, I’m all wet now."
"That’s what she said!" Brendon said gleefully, ignoring the fact that it was Ryan and Spencer who’d taught him that joke.
Jon laughed easily, crinkles forming at his eyes. He was such a nice guy, Brendon thought. How could anyone not like him? "I wouldn’t have thought Ross had enough body mass to break Spencer’s hand," he said.
Spencer’s eyes narrowed again. Even though mocking Ryan was his number-one favourite activity – a tendency that had only grown stronger since they had become booooyfriends, as Brendon liked to term them – laying into anyone who said anything that smacked of criticism towards him came a close second. He’d opened his mouth and Brendon had steeled himself for the inevitable deluge when someone called:
"Jon, Jon!"
Jon looked up, immediately alert. Soon Brendon, too, saw what the problem was : from the deep end of the pool there was a boy thrashing around wildly – only the top of his head and his arms were visible. Siska, Brendon thought wildly, Adam Siska. Little Siska was younger than most of the boys in his form, having come to Malory Towers a year early, but he’d settled in well and was liked by all. Most of the boys stood where they were in the shallow end, mouths agape.
Those nearer to him tried to tow him ashore, but could not manage to get close enough, due to his flailing arms. Brendon looked on, horrified.
Jon stood up, took his shoes and jacket off, and dived into the pool. Eventually he managed to wrap his arms around the still wildly flailing Siska, keeping the younger boy’s head above water at all times, and climbed out of the pool with a slightly blue-lipped and gasping Siska who seemed, nevertheless, mostly all right. The boys cheered wildly as he did so, and Brendon put two fingers to his mouth for a startlingly loud whistle that made almost everyone jump, and stare at him. For once, Brendon didn’t mind.
"Jolly good, Jon!" He called. Even Spencer looked mildly impressed, for once.
Brendon thought he saw Jon blush, or perhaps that was just the exertion from hauling Siska from the pool. In any case, Jon soon ducked his head and began to ask Siska if he was all right, and eventually insisted on bundling him to the Infirmary "just so Matron can have a look at you."
Brendon elbowed Spencer. "What?" Spencer said, looking as though he knew what Brendon was going to say already. Just then, Jon turned around to look at Spencer and Brendon, giving them a little wave. Brendon looked – really looked – at Jon, with his wet shirt clinging to his chest and damp hair falling into his eyes, and he bit his lip and didn’t say anything for the remaining ten minutes of lesson.
part v.