Chapter Nineteen #2
‘Pretty sure we’re not.’ I knew she was still buying weed, because sometimes when I got home from school I could smell it underneath her incense, a scent that no amount of patchouli could disguise.
But what could I say? She’d been told what effect it would have on the trial, and it was her choice.
Confronting her would only result in an argument, so I’d buried my head in the sand and hoped she would stop by herself.
‘Hey, do you want to go to the beach?’ I said.
Kira looked apologetic. ‘I have to get back tonight.’
‘Yeah, my brother’s home for a few days, so I should bounce,’ Freddy added.
‘I’ll come,’ Orwell said. But heading to the beach as the sun set, just me and Orwell, would be the rotten cherry on top of the stale cake as far as I was concerned.
‘Actually, I’m pretty tired. We should do it soon, though – all of us.’
‘For sure.’ Kira enveloped me in a hug and whispered, ‘You were gorgeous and brilliant up there, and I’m so proud of you.’
I thanked her and said goodbye to my friends, then stayed to have a chat with Mrs Elliot, who said all the things I had hoped Mum would say.
Then I stepped outside, into the cool evening air, the sun a low, glowing ball, amber and peach flames settling over the water.
I strode the five minutes to the beach, took off my uncomfortable shoes and walked across the sand until I reached the smooth, flat rock that locals called the Alperwick Seat.
Nobody was on it right now, the beach close to being deserted, so I sat down, and felt calm for the first time that evening.
I was gutted Ethan hadn’t turned up, and that Mum had been so uninterested, but I had my copper quill.
It was proof that something I’d written had been noticed, and I had my writing – my characters and my worlds – and nobody could take those from me.
Today was a milestone, but it also felt like possibility – that one day my writing, my escape, might lead to more.
‘George.’
I jumped. I’d been daydreaming, unaware of anyone approaching, but I knew instantly who it was.
I didn’t turn around, but waited for Ethan to sit beside me.
His warmth was irresistible, even though I was still angry.
I looked at him, and saw his tired, sad expression in the final rays of the sun.
I inhaled, and got a strong whiff of vodka.
‘Are you drunk?’ I couldn’t hide my shock.
‘Not me.’ He ran a hand through his hair.
‘Sarah just … I don’t know, she’s been drinking since lunchtime, maybe – secretly, at school.
I was on my way out, and I found her at the top of the stairs.
She almost fell down them, she was so drunk.
I got her into her room and she threw the bottle at me. ’
‘Oh shit,’ I whispered. ‘What happened?’
‘I made her drink water, eat some toast, then waited for Mum to get home.’
‘You told her?’
‘Yeah.’ He frowned. ‘I wasn’t about to handle that one by myself. What if she’d passed out and been sick? Mum’s looking after her, but I was already too late to get to the awards ceremony. I’m so sorry, Georgie. I wish I’d seen you.’
I flung my arms around his neck. ‘I’m so glad you told your mum. You shouldn’t have to deal with it by yourself.’
He pressed his hands against my back, flattening the label inside my dress. ‘I don’t know why we can’t get her to see sense.’ He puffed out a breath. ‘Tell me about your speech. What did you say?’
‘I got “cornucopia” and “fucksticks” into it.’
He pulled back. ‘You did not.’
‘I did.’ He smiled, the sadness banished from his eyes for a moment. ‘I wish you’d seen it.’
‘You could recreate it for me?’
I shook my head. ‘No.’ His face fell, and I added, ‘I will if you want, what I can remember, but not right now.’
‘What do you want to do, then?’
I looked at the final, burnished streak of red on the horizon, the cliffs rising above us on either side of the bay, the silhouette of S. E. Artemis’s abandoned house and the stars starting to twinkle overhead.
‘Dance with me.’ I pulled my iPod touch out of my bag, my eighteenth birthday present from Mum, and handed him one earphone. I put the other in my ear and scrolled through to the song I loved right then, that I’d been playing on repeat for weeks.
There were those first, perfect guitar strums, then the opening line of ‘Hey, Soul Sister’ by Train filled my right ear, and Ethan grinned.
He put his arms around my waist, and I snaked mine around his neck, careful to avoid the earphone wire.
We swayed on the sand, Ethan taller than he usually was because he still had his shoes on and I didn’t.
I pressed my cheek to his chest, relishing his warmth and the cold sand slipping between my toes.
We sang along, moving in time together as the final slice of sun dipped and winked out, letting the night sky take centre stage.
The song ended, and Ethan bent his head to mine and kissed me.
‘Thank you for coming to find me,’ I said.
‘Don’t thank me. You deserved more from me tonight.’
‘I’ve got you now. You and my blanket of stars.’
His smile was sad, and I was relieved when he turned away. We looked up as an impossible number of stars shone above us, almost as if they were turning on one by one just for us, a natural glitter ball for our sandy dance floor, right there in the middle of Alperwick Bay.