That morning I woke up unexpectedly in a good mood. I felt energized. It was past eight, Jeremy must have left the house, and maybe Lucas was already downstairs. This time I would convince him.

Simon and Phil were more than thrilled about the idea of a fully paid trip to Canada. I hadn't told them about Lucas yet. Well, I told them I had fun. But I hadn't told them that I had found our singer.

Every time I mentioned the band, those two whispered to each other and tried to change the subject. I knew they wanted to quit, but once they heard Lucas's voice, they would bite their hands rather than say goodbye to our guaranteed future as stars.

I decided to put on some pants and a T-shirt. Showing up in my underwear ran the risk of us jumping each other again, and my mind would be too distracted to stay focused on its goal.

I went downstairs. I didn't hear any singing, no noise except for the clinking of tableware. Maybe he was doing the dishes.

The clinking grew louder as I approached the kitchen.

I peeked in.

A teaspoon was swirling around inside a steaming cup, held by two slender fingers.

Well, thank goodness I didn't come down in my underwear.

Spaghetti guy's daughter had already arrived and was sitting on a chair, with an open book on the kitchen table and a bored face. The first thing you noticed about her face wasn't that she was bored, but that her eyelids were colored completely black, and there was a line of eyeliner under her eyes, also black; and lipstick on her lips, which, guess what? Was black.

She was wearing a leather jacket from which dozens of chains dangled, which surely had a purpose, one I couldn't find; and very tight and shiny leggings, the kind you need a whole jar of talcum powder to get into.

Ah, both the jacket and the leggings were black. I was starting to recognize a pattern.

Since I had been staring at her for twenty seconds without her lifting her head and noticing me standing there at the door, I considered the idea of quietly stepping back and pretending I had never been there, but at the first step, her dark eyes snapped up to me.

She looked at me with what I could only call disgust, but soon it turned into confusion.

"You're not Jerry." She said it as if it were a question. "Thomas?"

"Drake. I'm the third twin, they let me out of the cage on odd days."

She blinked. She had very long eyelashes. I don't think they were natural.

"Ah. You have a sense of humor. You must not feel very comfortable here."

That was, let's say, an understatement.

The girl went back to stirring her steaming cup and lowered her eyes to her book as if the conversation was over.

Was it over? God, I don't know... girls are strange.

"Uhm... you're Isabelle?"

"And you must be a detective." She turned the page with long black and sharp nails. They couldn't be real either, could they? I saw a girl in class tear off a nail once, and I was disgusted for at least half an hour, before someone told me it wasn't a real nail.

"Uh, okay. So... I'll go back upstairs."

I left the kitchen and headed for the stairs, just in time to hear the front door open.

I recognized Lucas's grunts even before I saw him appear in the doorway.

When he saw me, his tired look turned into irritation. "You're an idiot. Are you even counting your absences? You know you could fail the year if you miss too many days?"

"I don't give a fuck about school, you don't need a diploma to make music."

His beautiful blue eyes narrowed at me. "You're a real idiot."

He started taking off his faded brown windbreaker, already walking towards the kitchen.

Oh. The kitchen.

"OH! Yeah, um... didn't you say the Smiths aren't supposed to find out you're working instead of your mom?"

"So what?" He didn't even stop.

"So there's a new Smith sitting in the kitchen. And I don't think she'll leave anytime soon."

He turned to look at me, puzzled, then came out with a long "Ooooh...". He walked confidently towards the door while still struggling with the zipper.

"Hey, Rue."

The girl looked up from her book for a second. "Hey, Lucas."

I watched as they greeted each other, fist against fist.

"How's your mom?"

"So-so." He replied. "Yours?"

"Pretty good. If my dad would stop sending his lawyers after her, she'd be even better."

Lucas laughed. He hung his jacket on the back of a chair and opened the cabinet under the sink to get gloves. The girl, on the other hand, went back to reading her book.

"You know each other."

Isabelle didn't even bother to look at me. "Seriously, you have a career ahead of you. You should apply for the FBI."

What a nice girl. "I thought it was a secret that you work here."

Lucas already had his sponge and soap in hand. "Rue always arrives in the morning when she comes here, it would have been hard to hide from her."

"Rue?"

This time the girl looked at me. I couldn't tell if there was condescension or just a lot of irritation in her eyes. 

“Isabelle is a ridiculous name. I hate it. No one calls me that. Everyone calls me Rue.”

Well, I hadn't heard her called anything other than Isabelle until that moment.

"Anyway, I'd never rat on Lucas. It's bad enough that a guy has to drop out of school because he was born in a disadvantaged situation, when the top 1% of the population of this country holds 25% of the entire Canadian wealth. We just need Stephanie and my father, from their privileged life, to feel entitled to take away the only source of support for an entire family, just because they feel cheated. And they would, I warn you. If they were to find out about Lucas, his mother would be fired in an instant."

Lucas didn't comment on any of this. He kept his back to us as he scrubbed the kitchen.

I pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down. It seemed like it was going to be a long conversation. "Did you drop out of school?"

A grunt of assent followed, with a clear implication of not wanting to talk about it.

Alright. He hadn't pushed me when I didn't want to bring up my own stuff. It was better to change the subject.

"The other two members of my band will be here for Easter. You'll hear us play, your jaw will drop to the floor, and then you'll beg me on your knees to take you as a singer."

"Drake, you're really annoying."

Isabelle/Rue tilted her head to look over her shoulder. "You sing?"

"Yes. In the shower." He chuckled.

"You laugh, but I told you that when we'll be rich and famous, you'll beg me to forgive you for being such an idiot."

"You have a fixation on this begging and praying thing. Do you have any fetishes you haven't told me about?"

"Besides sticking my dick in people’s asses real good, I'd say no. And, while we're at it, have you thought about my proposal?"

He turned his neck just enough to see me, but didn't stop his incessant scrubbing. "If your proposal doesn't involve you getting on all fours with only socks on... I'm afraid not."

"I'm still here, you know?" The girl was looking at me with a raised eyebrow, then shifted her gaze to Lucas.

I wasn't used to having females around; maybe that wasn't a suitable conversation topic.

From what I knew, girls didn't talk about sex like guys did.

I wasn't well-versed enough in dealing with the opposite sex to know how to handle it, so I let Lucas take the lead. He cleared his throat and pretended not to notice.

Okay. Pretend it is, then.

The raised eyebrow pointed back at me. "Are you gay?"

"Yes."

And for some reason, this seemed to bring her a pinch of joy, as if it were her personal victory. Her previously expressionless lips curved for the first time.

"Ah. Interesting."

With eyes lost in space and that strange little smile, she went back to stirring the spoon in her cup, although by now the sugar must have melted for quite a while.

"What? Does it bother you that we're gay?"

"Hey, hey... I never said I was gay." Lucas interjected.

"Well, your mouth was around my dick yesterday."

"And I kissed a girl the day before. There's not just gay and straight. I'm pansexual."

"Yeah, right, pan-what... pancake? You’re not one of those who obsess over this shit, are you? If you're male and you like sucking dick, you're gay. Period."

"WHAT THE FUCK KIND OF BIPHOBIC BULLSHIT IS THAT?" Lucas shouted. He hadn't seemed like someone who shouts the day before. "Just because you don't know what to do with a tit doesn't mean the whole world feels like you."

"Woo, hey, calm down, Lu, I was just saying."

At this point, I think an aneurysm exploded in his brain, from the look on his face. I've never been very good at diffusing tension; I was more the type to piss people off.

I tried again. "Hey, you are free to go around saying you're a cupcake, or whatever you like. What did you say it was?"

Lucas stared at me as if he wished he had a gun and a big red target on my head. He didn't answer.

The girl took another sip from her cup. "Um. Pansexual."

"And what does that mean?"

This time the offended one decided to answer. "It means that the next time you want someone to suck you off, you'd better stick your dick in a vacuum cleaner, because I'm out."

He slammed the sponge into the sink and marched out of the kitchen. He couldn't really leave, as he had to work; and, in fact, I heard the squeak of the broom closet opening.

"What a sensitive guy."

Isabelle pulled the chair back to the table and set her cup down. She looked at me with her bored expression. "You're an idiot."

"Oh come on, he got offended for nothing."

"Mh-mm. Idiot." Then she went back to reading without looking up at me again.

I left the kitchen and went in search of the hurt fella. I had to keep quiet, that's what I had to do. I couldn't risk him disliking me, not with everything at stake.

I found him bent over in the gym, polishing the equipment with a murderous vigor, as if he had been personally wronged by it.

"Um..."

"If another word comes out of that mouth, I swear I'll punch you."

Hmm. Alright. I couldn't do much then.

But it turned out there was no need to talk. Lucas stood up and pointed the degreaser spray at me. "It's already hard enough having to deal with homophobes and bigots, but when someone who SHOULD understand what it's like to be discriminated left and right joins in... I really feel like hitting someone."

"I wasn't discrimination you! I was just saying that..."

"...that I'm too much of an idiot to understand myself. I need you to come and tell me how I really feel."

"Okay. You're twisting my words."

"I’M TWISTING YOUR WORDS??"

It wasn't the right thing to say. Oh boy, he was really getting pissed off.

"OK, fine! It's just that I don't think all these names and labels are necessary. But you do whatever you want!"

"Are these supposed to be your apologies?"

We went on for a while. Lucas wasn't one to let it go. And I wasn't one to let it go either, even though at one point I wasn't even sure what we were arguing about anymore.

"OK, you know what? FUCK YOU." He pushed me towards the door, making me stagger. "I came out to my mother KNOWING she was going to take it badly because I didn't want to hide anymore, and I already have to hear all the shit she throws at me. I really don't need yours too."

One last attempt. I would give it my all: "Ok. Listen. I'm sorry."

This had a slightly more positive effect than my other attempts, but not by much.

"Whatever..." He turned to go back to polishing the tools.

"Oh come on, Lucas. I'm not a smart guy. I say a lot of bullshit, cut me some slack."

He knelt in front of the weights and sprayed them with the product. He shook his head to himself.

"Forget it. It's not you. I'm pissed off because of my own stuff."

"What happened?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Everything? Take your pick: shitty life, shitty job, shitty family. Take your pick."

"Why do you cover for your mother if you can't stand her? I thought you were doing her a favor."

Finally, he turned around. He had a strange expression, kind of remorseful, or like he felt guilty.

"No... It’s not that I can't stand her. It's just... you know how it is. She always manages to say the worst thing at the worst time."

Actually, I wasn't sure how it was, but I still made a mh-mh of understanding.

"And then, you know... It's a big passion of mine not to end up on the streets, that's why I cover for her too."

Before I could start planting the wonderful seed of our future success in his ear again, Lucas went back to focusing on his task, his shoulders a little more slumped.

"Now leave me alone to work."