Sam’s dad muttered all the way home, short grumpy sentences that sounded like he was going to write them down in a letter and send them to Sam’s principal.
“Are they going to come to the barbecue?” Nicole said, sounding nearly as terrified as Elaine.
“No. And it would be better if you stayed away from his son, all three of you.”
Sam screwed up her nose. She’d been hoping to meet the Sanderson kid and tell him he’dnevermake her cry. Also, he still might have a huge water gun. “Why?”
“Because I said so. With a dad like that, I can only imagine…never mind. Just stay away.”
They reached their gate and Sam ran forward to open it.
“Dad, are we in trouble?” Nicole asked.
“No, lovely girl, I just don’t think you and the Sanderson boy should be friends, okay?”
Their dad didn’t say stuff like that often, that’s how Sam knew he was serious. She promised she’d stay away and now the Sanderson boy was spying on them. She nudged Nicole. “Look, the neighbour kid is watching us.”
Nicole stared at the gate in horror. “We’re not supposed to be near him! Make him go away.”
“Okay.” Sam cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hey, weird boy! Go away.”
The sandy-haired kid ducked lower behind the fence.
“I can still see you. Piss off!”
Nicole elbowed her. “You don’t need to be mean.”
“I’m not! Dad said we shouldn’t hang around him, remember?”
Her twin nodded gravely.
“Then I need to make him go away.” Sam picked up a fat water balloon, weighing its squishy body with her palms. “Hey, weird kid, leave or I’ll chuck these at your head.”
“Don’t!” The boy shot up and suddenly they were looking at his face. His eyes were the same hot coffee color as his dad’s but his skin and hair were pale. Sam had learned about color contrast from her dad. Their new neighbour was very contrast-y. His dark eyes made his skin look paper-white and his sandy hair platinum. Loose cherry blossoms adorned his hair like pearl drops. Sam couldn’t stop staring. He was very…she didn’t know a better word.Pretty.
“What are we going to do?” Nicole asked in a stage whisper.
Sam lowered her ammunition onto the ground so it wouldn’t accidentally burst and make her look stupid. “What’s your name?”
“Scott Fitzwilliam Sanderson,” he said in a weird voice, all sing-song and fancy.
Sam frowned. “Where are you from?”
“London. London in England.”
Sam nodded. She knew England. That was where Mr Bean was from. She walked closer to the fence and saw Scott Fitzwilliam Sanderson was wearing a button-down shirt and a little tie. He looked like one of those ads where kids dressed like grownups and sold car insurance.
Scott Fitzwilliam Sanderson frowned at her. “What’s your name?”
Sam decided to use one of her favourite bossy lines from TV. “I’ll ask the questions here. Why are you spying on us?”
“I’m not! I wanted to know what you were playing.”
“Water balloon hopscotch. Nicole invented it, now piss off.”
‘Piss’ was one of Sam’s favourite words. She like the hardness of the P and the hiss of the s. She tried to say it as much as possible, though saying it wasn’t as fun when it made Scott’s face fall. Still, they weren’t supposed to be his friend.
Nicole nudged her again. “Maybe if he hangs out with us, he’ll be nice.”