Skulduggery Pleasant: Books 10 - 12. Derek Landy

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      “Can you do it for me?”

      Never turned the page, kept reading. “No.”

      “But you’re so much better at maths than I am.”

      “My cat is better at maths than you are.”

      “But it’ll only take you a few minutes to get through the rest of this.”

      Never sighed. “Omen, I hate sounding like a teacher, or a parent, or just a general adult, but if you don’t do it yourself you’ll never learn.”

      “It’s maths, though,” said Omen. “I’m not going to need maths when I leave school.”

      Never closed her book, and raised her eyes. “What are you going to be?”

      “When I’m done with school? I don’t know.”

      “Then how do you know you won’t need maths?”

      “Because whatever I’m going to be, it won’t be a mathematician or an accountant or, y’know, someone who does a lot of sums. I know how to add and subtract and divide … that’s all I need to know. What else is there? What else is important? Is calculating the angle of something really going to be that necessary in my everyday life? Is it?”

      “I’m not doing your work for you.”

      Omen lowered his head to the desk. “But I hate it.”

      “You remember back in First Year, when we became friends? You remember how that happened?”

      “Of course. We started talking, and we just got along.”

      “No, that’s not how it happened at all. I was chatty, amusing and effervescent and you barely said a word to anyone. I was incredibly popular – do you remember that? I had just made a stirring, inspiring speech about my own particular rules that I wanted people to follow regarding my gender-fluidity. I listed the pronouns I was prepared to accept and the times at which I was prepared to accept them. I let people know that everyone was different and that my rules might not be the same as their rules. I was interesting. I was engaging. From that moment on, I had my pick of friends. Do you remember all that? Do you?”

      “I remember you talking …”

      “But, even though I had my pick of friends, I’d watch you in class and think to myself, This Omen kid might be cool. You were always on time, you never took your eyes off the teacher, you always worked so hard … How did that guy become this guy?”

      Omen didn’t say anything.

      “That wasn’t a rhetorical question,” said Never.

      “It sounded like one.”

      “What happened to you, Omen?”

      “I don’t know what you want me to say, Never.”

      “Is it a parent thing, or …?”

      “I dunno. I mean … I don’t really examine why I do things.”

      “Obviously.”

      “But you know how they are. Mum only calls when she’s wondering why Auger isn’t answering his phone. Dad … well, Dad never calls. I … I suppose when I started here I thought I could become someone new. Like, someone they’d approve of.”

      “And?”

      Omen shrugged. “I realised I couldn’t do it. I tried working hard, but nothing changed. I wasn’t suddenly the smartest kid in the class. I was still me.”

      “How hard did you work, though? I mean, how long did you give it?”

      “Ages,” Omen insisted.

      “And why did you stop?”

      “Well, like, it was really difficult.”

      Never sighed, and looked away for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “There’s nothing actually wrong with you. I mean, you know that, right? Your parents are obsessed with making sure Auger is ready to fight the King of the Darklands, whoever the hell he is. So yeah, you get ignored. But you’re still a worthwhile person. You’re decent, you can occasionally be funny and you have a good heart. It’s why people like you.”

      Omen’s eyes widened. “People like me?”

      “Probably, yeah.”

      “Wow. Do you know who?”

      “No. We don’t have a club. We don’t have badges or go to meetings. I’m just assuming other people like you because, well, because I cannot be the only one, I swear to God.”

      “Thanks, Never. You’re cool, too.”

      She frowned at him. “I know.”

      The door opened, and Auger stepped in, smiling when he saw Omen looking up.

      “What’d you do this time?” Auger asked. “Hey, Never.”

      “Hi, Auger,” Never said, giving a little wave.

      “I missed a class,” Omen said. “By accident. Don’t tell Mum and Dad.”

      “Dude, if I told them half the stuff you got in trouble for, you’d never be able to leave the house. I thought Miss Ether supervised on Wednesdays.”

      “I’m the only one in detention,” Omen said, “so she told me to get on with it and then she left.”

      “Never, what are you doing here?”

      Never shrugged. “Keeping him company.”

      Auger smiled another one of his dazzling smiles. “You’re a class act, you know that?”

      “Yes, I do.”

      “Why do you want Miss Ether?” Omen asked.

      Auger gave a quick one-shouldered shrug. “Nothing important. Just have to check something with her. Homework stuff. Anyway, try and stay out of trouble, you two.”

      And then he was gone.

      Never looked at Omen. “What do you think’s going on?”

      “I bet he’s on another adventure,” Omen said.

      “Me too. Like the time with the substitute teacher who turned out to be a serial killer, or all that possession stuff last year. Hey, you think he’ll ever invite the two of us along? I mean, you are his brother, and we are best friends.”

      “Are we?”

      “Aren’t we?”

      “Well,” said Omen, “you’re my best friend, but am I your best friend?”

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