The Wolf's Confession

Marcus had put Edinburgh first, and nobody knew.

Not his dad. Not his mum. Not even Ethan. He'd done it months ago, on his own, sitting up in bed with his heart going so hard he thought he might be sick. Edinburgh first. Cambridge second, as the backup. Then he'd shut the laptop and never said a word about it to anyone.

His dad was still waiting to hear from Cambridge.

A-level results came out, and by dinner Marcus's mum had already rung four people to tell them.

She'd cooked enough for ten. She always did that when something good happened. She also did it when something bad happened, so the only way to tell which one it was, was to look at her. She was beaming.

"So?" his dad said, sitting down. "All of them?"

"All of them," said Marcus. "Four A-stars."

His dad nodded. He didn't smile. He just nodded, slowly, and then he served Marcus first, before anyone else at the table. That was as close as Wei Chen ever got to saying well done.

Ethan kicked him under the table.

"Ow. What was that for?"

"Checking you're real." Ethan didn't even look up. "Four A-stars. You're not a person, bro. You're a machine."

"You got three."

"I got three and I've got friends. Big difference."

"I've got friends."

"You've got two friends, and one of them is Sophie, so that's basically your mum."

Marcus kicked him back. He missed and hit the table instead, and had to pretend the noise he made was a cough. Their mum didn't even look up. She'd given up telling them off about it when Marcus was about four.

Ethan was twenty-three and he still lived at home, and nobody in their family thought that was weird. In their family you didn't move out unless you were getting married or moving to another country, and even then you rang every single day. Ethan had a job in the city, a car he wouldn't stop talking about, and the room down the hall that they'd shared until Marcus was eleven and finally begged for his own. Ethan still brought that up. He'd probably bring it up at Marcus's wedding.

"Cambridge should be in touch any day," his dad said. "You'll want to get organised. Reading list. Accommodation. These things go fast."

Marcus stopped eating for a second. Then he made himself start again.

"Yeah," he said. "I know."

He didn't say anything else. He could feel Ethan looking at him across the table. He didn't look back.

His dad had a saying. He'd had it Marcus's whole life. Do it properly, or don't do it at all. He'd said it about homework, about piano practice, about the way Marcus held his chopsticks when he was five. He'd said it once about a 74 on a maths test when Marcus was eight, and then he hadn't said anything else to him for five whole days. Marcus had never got under ninety on anything since.

He wasn't a bad dad. Marcus knew that. He worked long hours, and when he got home the first thing he asked about was school, because school was the one thing he could actually help with. He'd come to England with nothing and built everything they had, and he wanted his sons to have more than he'd had. He just didn't know how to say that. So he said it about marks.

"Any girls in your year I should know about?" his mum asked.

Marcus nearly choked on his food.

"Mum."

"What? I'm only asking. You're a handsome boy. Somebody must have noticed."

"Nobody noticed. I was revising."

"He was revising," said Ethan, thrilled. "For two years. With the door shut. Mum, nobody's ever noticed him. He doesn't leave his room."

"Shut up, Ethan."

"I'm on your side!"

"How is that being on my side?"

"I'm explaining to Mum why you're single. It's called support."

Their mum's phone started ringing. She looked at the screen, and she lit up.

"It's your Pò pó."

Both brothers sat up straight without meaning to. Their dad put his chopsticks down. Their mum answered on video and held the phone out so everyone was in the shot.

Pò pó was on her sofa in Shanghai. She was always on that sofa. She was ninety, and she ran the entire family from it, on two phones, and somehow she always knew everyone's news before their own parents did.

She didn't say hello. She never said hello.

"Results?" she asked, in Mandarin.

"Four A-stars, Pò pó," said Marcus.

"Four." She held four fingers right up to the camera. "Good boy. Your cousin Wen only got three. Don't tell her I told you." Then her eyes moved. "Ethan."

"Hi, Pò pó."

"You've put on weight."

"I haven't put on weight, it's the angle—"

"The angle doesn't eat your dinner." She looked at their dad. "Wei, you're too thin. Eat more." She looked at their mum. "Your hair looks nice."

"I just washed it, Mā."

"Then wash it more often." She turned back to Marcus. "And Cambridge?"

"We're waiting to hear," said his dad, before Marcus could say anything.

Pò pó didn't answer straight away. She looked at Marcus for a long moment. She'd always been able to tell when something was wrong with him, even from the other side of the world.

"You look tired," she said. "Are you sleeping?"

"I'm sleeping, Pò pó."

"He's not," said Ethan. "He walks round his room at all hours. I can hear him from my room."

"Because you snore. You snore so loud the neighbours have complained."

Pò pó said something sharp to Ethan in Mandarin that made him shut up immediately and made their mum laugh behind her hand. Then Pò pó told them she had to go, because she was playing mahjong with the women from the third floor, and they cheated, so she was going to cheat more. She hung up without saying goodbye. She never said goodbye either.

"She's going to tell the whole family now," said their mum. "Your aunties in Toronto will know before we've finished eating."

"She's going to tell them I'm fat," said Ethan.

"You are a bit fat, Ethan."

"Mum."

Marcus laughed, properly, for the first time since they'd sat down. Ethan saw him laughing and grinned and kicked him again, but gently.

Marcus's phone buzzed. He checked it under the table. His dad saw, and didn't say anything, because of the four A-stars.

It was Sophie.

FOUR?? marcus. FOUR. im so proud of you i could actually cry

Then:

ok jamie's cousin is having a party. end of summer thing. you're coming. don't even try to bail. you need a social life that isn't flashcards

He smiled at his phone before he could stop himself. He'd known Sophie since they were six. She'd sat down next to him on the first day of primary school and she'd never moved. She was the only person who could call him boring and make it a compliment.

Jamie's came through straight after.

party. you're coming. no excuses mate. i'll drag you there myself

He would, too. Jamie had once carried him home on his back in Year 10, after Marcus sprained his ankle playing football. All the way, in the rain, singing. Marcus had wanted to die.

He typed back: Fine. I'll come for an hour.

Sophie: two hours

Marcus: An hour and a half.

Jamie: why is he negotiating like it's a hostage situation

Sophie: two hours or i tell your mum you promised ethan you'd go to the gym with him

Marcus: Fine. Two hours.

"Who's that?" his mum asked.

"Sophie and Jamie. There's a party. At Jamie's cousin's."

His dad made a small noise. It was the noise he made about parties. It meant a waste of time, but fine, as long as it doesn't get in the way of anything important. Marcus had been understanding his dad's noises since he was about four.

"Go," said his mum, before his dad could say anything. "You've earned it. Have fun. And eat something there. Don't just drink."

"I won't just drink."

"Everyone just drinks," said Ethan. "Go on, nerd. Try talking to a human being for once."

After dinner, Marcus helped his mum clear up, because in their house nobody left the table without carrying something. She washed and he dried. For a while she didn't say anything. Then she bumped him with her elbow.

"You're quiet," she said.

"I'm always quiet."

"You're quieter than usual." She didn't look at him. "Is it Cambridge?"

Marcus took a second too long to answer.

"I'm just tired," he said.

She gave him the look she gave her Year 11s when they told her the dog had eaten their homework. She'd been a teacher for twenty years. She knew when someone was putting on a show. But she didn't push it.

"Okay," she said. "Go to bed early, then."

He went up to his room and shut the door and lay down on his bed.

He could hear Ethan down the hall on the phone to someone, laughing too loudly. He could hear his mum and dad in the kitchen, talking quietly in the mix of Mandarin and English they used when they thought nobody was listening. He heard his own name once. He heard Cambridge twice.

He opened his emails and read the one from Edinburgh again. He'd read it about forty times. Conditional offer. The condition was his results, and he'd smashed them. They'd be confirming his place any day, the same way his dad thought Cambridge would.

Except Edinburgh was his first choice. Cambridge was the backup. And the only person in the world who knew that was him.

He still didn't know how to tell them. Every time he tried to imagine the conversation, he got as far as his dad putting his chopsticks down, and then he couldn't think past it.

He'd go to the party. He'd stay exactly two hours, because he'd promised. He'd let Sophie introduce him to people, and he'd let Jamie drag him round, and he'd get one drink and hold it the whole time so nobody tried to give him another one. Then he'd come home and sleep, and then he'd work out how to tell his dad.

That was the plan. He was good at plans.

He fell asleep with his phone still in his hand, and Sophie's last message still on the screen.

two hours chen. im timing you.

The last thing he heard before he went under was his dad's voice, low, coming up the stairs from the kitchen.

Cambridge.