Jeff Character Analysis

First day of school holidays. First day he must man the boat alone while the men go down. Old enough now, he must take his place. Just like his brother before him, he must fill the gap Uncle Nick left.

There were things that no one would teach you—things about the water. You just knew them or you didn’t and no one could tell you how to read it. How to feel it. Miles knew the water. He could feel it. And he knew not to trust it.

He used to feel sorry for the abs when he was young. The way they pulsed and moved in the tubs, sensing the bright light and heat. But he couldn’t think about them like that now. He was only careful not to cut or bruise them, because once abs started to bleed, they kept on bleeding until all the liquid inside was gone. They just dried up and died.

It was fully formed, more than half a yard long, maybe only days away from being born. It would have survived if Jeff had just let it go, let it slide off the back of the boat. It had made it this far, battling its siblings, killing and feeding off them. Waiting. It would have been born strong, ready to hunt, ready to fight.

Then they heard Dad yelling from inside. Yelling at them, at everyone. Yelling at no one. And Miles could hear the words. They came through the brown walls, through the air, and cracked open the night: “I never wanted you.”

And it nearly made Harry cry now, the way Miles’s eyelid was all purple and cut—the bruise on the side of his face coming up bad. Harry put his hand in his pocket and felt for the sock that held his leftover money. He pulled it out.

“You should take this,” he said. “You might need it.”

Miles shook his head. “You keep it,” he said and he tried to smile.

…Harry didn’t see him come back. There was just the backpack with some clothes left by the door of the trailer and inside, near the top, were some chocolates and the bright orange dart gun from his Bertie Beetle goodie bag.

…he looked so young and small, like no time had ever passed by since he was the baby in the room and Joe had told Miles to be nice to him and help Mum out. And Miles had thought he wouldn’t like it. But Harry had a way about him. A way that made you promise to take care of him.

He just kept starting at Harry. And his hand moved away from Harry’s hair, moved down to the string around his neck. And he cupped it in his palm—a white pointer’s tooth.

“It’s his,” he said, and his face went pale. “His.”

He let the tooth go. He stared down at Harry.

“She was leaving, because of him. Because of you.”

First day of school holidays. First day he must man the boat alone while the men go down. Old enough now, he must take his place. Just like his brother before him, he must fill the gap Uncle Nick left.

There were things that no one would teach you—things about the water. You just knew them or you didn’t and no one could tell you how to read it. How to feel it. Miles knew the water. He could feel it. And he knew not to trust it.

He used to feel sorry for the abs when he was young. The way they pulsed and moved in the tubs, sensing the bright light and heat. But he couldn’t think about them like that now. He was only careful not to cut or bruise them, because once abs started to bleed, they kept on bleeding until all the liquid inside was gone. They just dried up and died.

It was fully formed, more than half a yard long, maybe only days away from being born. It would have survived if Jeff had just let it go, let it slide off the back of the boat. It had made it this far, battling its siblings, killing and feeding off them. Waiting. It would have been born strong, ready to hunt, ready to fight.

Then they heard Dad yelling from inside. Yelling at them, at everyone. Yelling at no one. And Miles could hear the words. They came through the brown walls, through the air, and cracked open the night: “I never wanted you.”

And it nearly made Harry cry now, the way Miles’s eyelid was all purple and cut—the bruise on the side of his face coming up bad. Harry put his hand in his pocket and felt for the sock that held his leftover money. He pulled it out.

“You should take this,” he said. “You might need it.”

Miles shook his head. “You keep it,” he said and he tried to smile.

…Harry didn’t see him come back. There was just the backpack with some clothes left by the door of the trailer and inside, near the top, were some chocolates and the bright orange dart gun from his Bertie Beetle goodie bag.

…he looked so young and small, like no time had ever passed by since he was the baby in the room and Joe had told Miles to be nice to him and help Mum out. And Miles had thought he wouldn’t like it. But Harry had a way about him. A way that made you promise to take care of him.

He just kept starting at Harry. And his hand moved away from Harry’s hair, moved down to the string around his neck. And he cupped it in his palm—a white pointer’s tooth.

“It’s his,” he said, and his face went pale. “His.”

He let the tooth go. He stared down at Harry.

“She was leaving, because of him. Because of you.”