Half Brother by Kenneth Oppel

didn’t know a lot about what seventeen-year-olds did on Friday nights, but I guessed there’d be dancing and girls and making out.
    David was wearing a really cool orange shirt with the collar way open. Jennifer had this tight dress with a crazy design all over it and a thick green belt. There was lip gloss on her lips. She looked fantastic, and I felt a surge of excitement and hope. She’d done that for me. She’d dressed up for
me
because she liked me and wanted me to think she was pretty. Maybe I was wrong, but that was my assumption. Scientists had to have assumptions.
    In her hand was a portable record player in its pink plastic case. She saw me looking at it and said, “I didn’t know if you had a hi-fi in the rec room, so I brought mine.”
    “We don’t actually have a rec room,” I said.
    “You don’t have a
rec room?”
she said, looking horrified.
    “Isn’t that against the law or something?” David said, shaking his head at his sister.
    “The basement’s unfinished.” I lowered my voice. “It’s kind of gross. It’s where Dad keeps all his experiments that go wrong.” I put my arms out and took a few clunky Frankenstein steps.
    Jennifer and David laughed. I saw Dad glance over from talking to Dr. Godwin, but I didn’t think he’d heard what I said.
    David tapped the army surplus satchel hanging from his shoulder. “Jennifer picked out some albums, and I brought some
real
music.”
    Jennifer rolled her eyes.
    “We can play them upstairs in my room,” I said.
    “I’ve got the new ABBA album,” she said. “It’s really good.”
    “Can’t wait,” I said.
    “Liar,” said David, shaking his head in disgust.
    “They do that cool ‘Waterloo’ song.” A couple of nights ago I’d heard it on the radio for the first time.
    Jennifer’s face completely lit up. “That’s got to be my favourite song!”
    “We’re going upstairs to listen to some music,” I told Mom.
    She broke off from talking to Mrs. Godwin long enough to smile and nod and say she’d call when dinner was ready.
    I was really relieved they’d brought a turntable and records—I’d been worried about what we were going to do all evening. I didn’t want them to think our place was boring. Especially since we didn’t have a rec room. Good thing Mom had gotten me to tidy up my room in case we ended up there. The whole time I was tidying I kept thinking of whatwould make me look coolest, and I’d left out little things that I thought were interesting. My cross-country ribbons on the bulletin board, my camera, some artistic black and white photos I’d developed recently.
    “Where’s Zan?” Jennifer asked as we walked upstairs.
    “In his suite, with Peter.”
    “Can we go visit him?” she asked.
    “Probably not a good idea. We’d just get him all excited.” I could see Zan making a run for the door and getting into the living room and jumping on the dinner table. Dad would freak out.
    “What time does he go to bed?” David asked. “Usually about eight,” I said. “Beddy-bye time for little chimps,” Jennifer said. I chuckled. “Yep. Beddy-bye for little chimps.” “He is so cute,” she said.
    I led them into my bedroom and helped Jennifer find an outlet for her record player. We were down on our hands and knees, underneath the desk, and I was aware of how close she was to me, her arms and shoulders and hair. I’d imagined her in my bedroom lots of times—and the things we might get up to—and it made me blush to think of it right now. She passed me the cord and I plugged it in and backed out.
    “Is that Old Spice?” she said, sniffing.
    “Hmm?” I said.
    “I didn’t know you were shaving,” David said mockingly.
    “Tarzan shave every day,” I said in my Tarzan voice, and when I saw Jennifer’s eyebrows lift skeptically, I said, “Twice a day—me very hairy,” and she laughed.
    David spread the albums out on the floor. I knew which ones were his. Pink Floyd, The Who, Led Zeppelin.