'Mum, I swear, I'd rather walk than get on that bus tomorrow!'

Mrs Garrett shook her head in disgust. 'You know, son, some people have no choice but to use public transport. Why I've been known to use it myself on occasion.'

Zach raised his eyebrows. 'But, you have a car.'

'Shut up, smartass. I was making a point.'

'Well, if you'd rather take the bus, I don't mind taking old rusty off your hands.'

Old Rusty was the family's name for the car, and it was a fitting one considering the vehicle had scarcely made it through its last three Ministry of Transport tests. And its Burgundy paint had long since faded under the light of the seemingly unsetting Hillgrove sun. Yes, the single street in this tiny hamlet was not so luxurious to offer such things as garages and private driveways, so people had to make do. 

Apart from the Bulchville's, their gaudy pink mansion was widely regarded as an eyesore on the landscape, and they had all the shelter they needed for their four top-of-the-range vehicles. A fact they'd rub in the Hillgrove residents' faces whenever they got the chance.

'Oh, before I forget,' Mrs Garrett waited until she'd finished chewing. Poor as they might have been, it wasn't an excuse to forget good manners. 'Gregor Bulchville wanted to know if you could help him with his university applications?'

Zach grinned like a wolf and scooped up his worn leather backpack, the same one he'd had for years. 'I bet he does. That slimy ba-' Mrs Garrett's scowl was enough to make him swallow any other unsavoury words he had prepared. 'I meant to say that Gregor only wants to compare his marvellous, otherworldly achievements to mine, and I don't want any part.'

She took another bite of her buttered scone and then sighed. 'I thought you two were friends.'

'Maybe when we were five.'

'How strange, one might have thought you were more than that.' 

Zach missed his mother's meaning, and then it clicked. 'You can't be serious?'

She wiped loose crumbs off her mouth with a napkin as she spotted someone moving outside for the second time this morning. 'Hold that thought.' She held up three fingers and counted down to one before drawing back the kitchen curtains in force.

Zach's shocked squeal was outshone by Gregor's, though. Rotund, stubble chinned and with hair so unkempt, he looked fifty years his age, and to think, he was only twenty.
Mrs Garrett hammered on the glass for no other reason than to show how angry she was at the oaf's behaviour. 

'I can't believe you think I'm in a relationship with that guy!'

'But, why else would he be sneaking around, Zach?'

'Ask him!'

Mrs Garrett scratched her head and stormed out the front door after Gregor and Zach had never been so excited. The woman was not one to trifle with, and now she was chasing the insufferable neighbour across her garden with a sweeping brush. 

Zach pressed his face so close to the window glass his breath fogged it up, and he had to wipe it clear. But, when it happened again, he yanked on the handle to open it.

Naturally, Gregor noticed when Zach cheered. 'Come on; I was only delivering your newspaper.'

Mrs Garrett frowned and brushed the grass at his feet to make him dance. 'We don't have a subscription! And if that is your job, where's your bag?'

'Your son-'

'What about Zach?'

At the sound of them uttering his name like a curse, Zach ran outside and snatched the 'weapon' from his mother before facing Gregor. 'The hell do you want from me?'

'To get even. What else?'

'What's going on between you two?'

'Nothing,' Zach answered far too quickly. 'I think it's like you said, mum. Gregor here must fancy me.'

'Knock it off.' She said with a sweep of her hand.

'Wait!' The Bulchville lad was already beet red and turned redder when he noticed Mrs Garrett walking further into her garden; she'd spotted some discarded trash. And as she passed between her two Rowan trees, her neck jarred backwards to the point she almost flipped. The clear-plastic clothesline hadn't been there this morning. 

'Why?' She croaked, pushing her aching palms against the grass. She was angry, shook up and confused. And as she scraped her knees along the ground, she finally climbed to her feet. 'Why?!'

Gregor's skin threatened to turn purple. 'It-it was just a prank. Your son started it.'

Zach swung a punch and missed by a mile. 'You won't stop, will you, Bulch? I want to be left alone. The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better.'

'Let me get this straight,' Mrs Garrett gasped. 'You two have been pranking each other for how long?'

'A few months-'

Gregor stared from Zach to his mother. 'Your son told my parents I'd been climbing the apple tree next door when I hadn't. They grounded me for days!'

Mrs Garrett shook her head. 'You two are worse than children in a playground.'

'But, Zach-'

'I don't care! It's past time you grew up,' Mrs Garrett closed her eyes, counting to ten. 'Go on home, Gregor and don't you be snooping around my garden again.' 

'You know he'll be back, right? He's like a cockroach.'

She spooled the loose washing line around her hand and gave it to Zach. 'I haven't even gotten started with you yet. Get inside, now.'

'What did I do? Gregor was the one-'

'The fact that you need to ask says it all. You have too much time on your hands.'

Zach shrugged, but instead of moping, he looked her in the eye. 'Sorry. I've just been bored. And when Gregor started messing with me, I couldn't help myself.'

'Oh, bored, is it? Twenty years old, and you're bored. I'll drive if you're not getting the bus to your job interview tomorrow. You'll learn to become a responsible adult even if it drives you mad.'

'Mum, you realise the interview is at Flurbury's Museum Of Odds And Ends, right? I think 'mad' would be a compliment to the place.'

She laughed and patted him on the back. 'Yes, well, we all have to start somewhere, Zach Garrett.'