Chapter 1

I was far too young when it first started.

It's hard to imagine now, but I had no idea whatsoever. I can't recall the day of the week, but I was sitting at the counter in the diner, trying to get my homework finished. I knew Mum was going to make me do it at home later, and I wanted the evening free to watch TV.

As I stared numbly at the maths equations I vaguely heard Melanie talking to me as she strolled past, arms laden with what were undoubtedly fat soaked plates of more-or-less hot food, bound for some suckers over by the windows. It wasn't a bad diner, but it wasn't the best either. Not for the first time, I wished that Mum didn't have to work here, and, more importantly, from my admittedly selfish perspective, that I didn't have to spend my afternoons here waiting for her to get off, and give me a ride home.

As Mel strolled back, arms empty now, I stopped and listened properly, hoping against hope that I could impress her. Older, taller, and very, very blonde, Melanie was a teenage boy's dream. Unfortunately, her boyfriend, who was big, dark, and menacing, thought of her as his personal property, and I didn't want to mess with him. Oh, who was I kidding? It wouldn't matter if the competition was zero, I still wouldn't get anywhere near her. As if that wasn't enough, Mum would slap me on the back of my head every time she caught me staring at her. Mum wanted me to find a nice girl. I kept insisting that Mel was nice. Mum kept slapping me.

"I never noticed that before, Joe."

"Noticed what?"

"Back in a sec." I was confused now, and waited patiently as she disappeared out the back, and returned with arms loaded again. "Hold up your hand," she demanded as she passed. "No, not that one, dippy, the left one."

"Oh." I held my other hand up, but I knew what she was talking about now. I'd heard it all before.

"Yeah, that one. Wow. Soon. Wait there, would ya?"

"Like I'm going somewhere, Mel?" It was strange I guess, but these disjointed conversations were common in the diner. Unless it was really quiet, the waitresses didn't have time to chat, and you got solitary sentences in passing. She eventually returned, carrying a single plate.

"He never said anything about frigging mushrooms," she scowled. "Hold on, gotta give this back to Neil-boy. Put your hand back down, Joe." There was always a chance of a real confrontation when this happened. Neil didn't take any shit from the waitresses, or the customers. Or God, so far as I could tell.

"Luck, Mel. You need it." She disappeared again. We had those swing doors, like the ones into operating theatres on TV, big wooden things with round windows. I could hear Neil yelling in no time, but Mel was used to him. Eventually, she returned with another plate. It looked identical to the load she took in, and I assumed that Neil just scraped the mushrooms off and pushed the rest on to a clean plate. It certainly wouldn't be the first time.

"He's a fuckface!" Mel whispered with a smile as she passed again. I was impressed. Language like that was forbidden at my home, and Mel knew I'd laugh. "A dumb fuckface! I still want to talk to you."

"You know, Mel, you have the best vocab' around. I wish you were in my English class."

"I don't! Well, except it's full of men, isn't it?"

"Half full, Mel, and they are boys." I blushed then, to my shame.

"Uh huh."

I returned my attention reluctantly to the book, and Mel was right next to me before I noticed her again.

"Can I have a proper look?"

"Oh look, Mel, I've heard all the jokes before."

"I wasn't going to joke, Joe. I just want to look. Oh. You know, that's kinda cool, isn't it?"

"Cool? I don't think so."

"Does it, well, work?"

"Huh? Of course it works. It's a finger. See? I know it's an extra one, but it works just the same as the other ones."

"Hmmm..."

"What?"

"Well, oh, I shouldn't ask that. Never mind."

"No, go on. I don't mind."

"You do."

"Not."

"Where's your mother?"

"That was your question?"

"Nah, just want to check. She was out back of the kitchen last I saw."

"She probably still is. But why do you care?"

"Secrets. Listen, you're left handed?"

"You know that. You watched me guessing answers in this book."

"Yeah. Two questions. Tell me to shut the fuck up if you don't want to answer."