Lisdalia by Brian Caswell Page B

started on my Maths, and he sat there staring at the TV, with a cup of coffee in his hand, just expecting me to drop everything and jump … Oh, I should have just done them.”
    â€œAnd what did you do?” She could have guessed. The same thing I always do before I’m grounded.
    â€œWhat do you reckon? I said I had all this work to do, that I wouldn’t get finished before ten-thirty as it was … and d’you know what he said?” Tanja shook her head obediently. “He looked at me and said, ‘Your mother cooked the meal, you could at least wash the dishes. Do you expect her to do them?’ I asked what about Tony or John, they could be a few minutes late for the damn gym and no one was likely to die, but I might as well have been speaking in Russian … or Japanese. He just got that stubborn look on his face and said, ‘Wash the dishes’, like he was the Pope or something. So I asked him why he couldn’t do them himself for once. And I got grounded.”
    Tanja smiled and put her arm around my shoulder like the big sister I always wished I’d had. “You know, kid, for a little genius, you can be incredibly thick.”
    I turned to look at her. “Do you think I was wrong?”
    She smiled again. “Not wrong … just stupid.” I could feel a lecture coming on, but with Tanja you couldn’t avoid the lectures any more than the sick jokes. “How many times have you had the same argument?” She didn’t even expect a reply, so I didn’t offer one. “And did you ever win? Of course not!” She loved to answer her own qustions. “So, stupid. In fifteen minutes you could have finished the dishes and got on with your homework. No hassles, no arguments … and you wouldn’t have to miss Michael’s big race on Saturday.”
    Saturday!
    I’d forgotten the swimming comp. It was Michael’s first important race since he’d joined the club, and I’d promised to be there. I’d have to tell him as soon as he arrived. Another downer.
    I stood up. “You mean give in? But he was wrong. I shouldn’t have to do them if I’ve got work to do. The boys never do a thing.”
    â€œSo, you shouldn’t have to do them. I shouldn’t have to turn up to school five days a week dressed like a dork. I keep telling them blue isn’t my colour, but you don’t see me turning up in a Metallica T-shirt and my 501s, do you? There’s no point. And there’s no point in standing up to your father when it comes to ‘women’s work’. Who ended up with her hands in the soapsuds?”
    I could see where it was leading, but I couldn’t avoid it.
    â€œMe. Who else?”
    â€œSo, you got grounded and you did the dishes. Real intelligent.” I hated it when she was right.
    â€œI suppose you want me to end up like my mother.” I sat down again. Tanja got me so frustrated.
    â€œI don’t want you to ‘end up’ like anything. But if you’re going to spend your life spitting into the wind, you’d better learn to duck.”
    For a moment, she looked across at Shane Thomas; one of the handball player’s tennis balls had rolled a little too close to him, and he was measuring the distance, seeing if he could manage to throw it right over the roof of the admin block. High school hadn’t changed Shane “the Pain” a bit.
    Tanja turned back to me, a grin on her face. “You could try accidentally smashing a few plates. It did wonders for me. They only ever ask me to do them in an emergency now.”
    She made me smile in spite of myself. “I tried that.”
    â€œYeah? And what happened?”
    â€œI got grounded.”
    She pulled a face, a real Tanja-special. “Tough break.”
    Shane Thomas launched the ball. It arced high into the air, but failed to clear the roof and bounced back, hitting Chris Walker in the back of the