Saving from Monkeys by Jessie L. Star Page B

jovial tone, but only just as Elliot continued to make no move to welcome them.
    "Cinders is probably scared we'll tip over our drinks and she'll have to clean them up," the shortest one guffawed and the other two joined in like he was the height of amusement as opposed to just plain old repellent.
    I ignored them, instead watching with mounting confusion as Elliot's expression hardened. What was up with him?
    And then, for the first time, I actually properly considered what his life was like now he was at uni. I'd just sort of assumed that it'd be the same as it was when he lived at home; that he'd be doing the same idiotic things with the same idiotic friends, but I reluctantly acknowledged just how unfair that was. My life had changed completely when I came to uni, why couldn't his have to?
    It certainly seemed that he didn't have much to do with these guys anymore, a thought reinforced as he said, "You tip over your drinks, you'll be ones cleaning it up." His tone was grim and the mood shifted abruptly from 'boys against girl' to 'boys against boy' which, from my perspective, was not actually an improvement.
    I was used to Elliot's friends' patronising comments and, mostly, they just flowed on past me. I couldn't remember Elliot being too bothered about the things they'd said to me growing up, but he certainly looked bothered now.
    His change of heart was something I wanted to commit some time to thinking about, but there were other considerations that demanded more prompt attention. Namely the hulks next to us whose trunk-like necks actually seemed to be swelling with outrage the more they thought about their erstwhile friend's dismissive treatment of them.
    I really, really didn't want things to get to that stupid, macho stage that made nights out such a pain so I kicked Elliot's shin under the table to turn his scowl away from them and onto me. Then I sat up straighter and said, in my best ditzy, admiring voice, "Didn't you guys win the school championship in rugby? Maybe pretend your drinks are rugby balls and try not to fumble them then we'll all be happy."
    It turned out I wasn't very good at the 'ditzy, admiring' stuff and my words came out sounding pretty sarcastic, but it looked like only Elliot had noticed.
    "That's good thinking." I found myself being patted again and, although I tried to smile at the perpetrator, I was fairly sure I'd just bared my teeth. "Hey, maybe you should give up the domestic arts to be a diplomat."
    OK , not going to lie, that one stung a bit. Their chortles reinforced that the comment had been meant as a joke and that they had absolutely no faith in the idea that I would ever be anything other than a cleaner. I hadn't used any of the 'domestic arts' in years, except to clean my own room, but their words still spoke right to all my fears about never escaping that life.
    There was no way I was going to let myself be bested, however, and I kept my voice disgustingly perky as I replied, "Oh us cleaners are always diplomats. Weren't you the one I spent half an hour negotiating with to put your pants back on when you were strutting your stuff outside Mrs Sinclair's study that time?"
    "Probably," the other boys said in unison and, for a second, I saw the spark of their old friendship.
    "It was the night after the championship," the unfortunate looking one shrugged. "It was a pants off kind of occasion."
    "Speaking of the championship, where's our captain, oh captain?" The one I'd called Flopsy looked around. "Shouldn't be hard to spot him, he's about 100 metres taller and wider than everyone else here."
    "Good luck with that," Elliot said stiffly. "He'll be shacked up somewhere with his girlfriend."
    "Oh yeah? We heard there was a chick in the picture." Cottontail laughed as if he doubted what he'd heard could be true. "What's she like?"
    "She's cool, good fun." Elliot could’ve just been being polite, but I didn't think so and I begrudgingly had to allocate him a couple of good guy points.