Page 47 of How to Kill Your Rival

‘I wasn’t that small,’ Fraser pipes up.

‘Fraser. You were tiny. Like a bloody Borrower.’ Maggie scoops a pile of noodles onto her plate.

‘No, I wasn’t.’

‘It’s a good thing you had that growth spurt,’ I add. ‘We sent you to the fountain and told you to pretend you were a seal. To make as much noise as possible.’

‘You used me to distract the adults.’

‘Yeah. We stole two cans of beer and hid under a table to try it.’ I giggle.

Maggie nods. ‘It was fucking awful. You retched.’

‘I didn’t!’ I say.

‘Did I get any of the beer?’ Fraser asks.

We look at each other.

‘Fraser—’

‘Did I get any of the beer?’

‘You were five,’ I say. ‘Of course not.’

He purses his lips and grabs the wine bottle. ‘Then I’ll be having the last of this.’

‘Hey,’ Maggie squeaks.

‘I’d have preferred the beer,’ he says and tosses a bean sprout at me.

Gaston sighs on the sofa above us.

* * *

We lounge on the couch, stuffed full of food and halfway to fairyland with the drink.

‘Okay,’ Maggie says with a slight slur in her speech. ‘You’ve mentioned James at least four times in the past hour. Spill.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I say.

‘I’m just⁠—’

‘Maggie.’

Fraser looks up from his phone.

Oh no.

His brow crinkles.

‘Don’t go there,’ I threaten. ‘Just yeet that thought right out of your head.’

‘I didn’t say anything,’ he says.

‘Fraser—’

‘Are you screwing James?’ he asks.