Chapter 12
Twelve
Now
‘Callie! Come and watch!’
Callie trudged in, already cringing. Her stepdad sat in his armchair, remote ready to unpause. Hannah was sprawled across the rug, legs kicking in excitement.
‘It’s the assault course one,’ Hannah said, grinning.
‘Great,’ Callie muttered, sinking onto the sofa. This had been such a fucking humiliating day. She’d had no intention to relive it with a viewing. She never watched anything she was in if she didn’t have to. But her mother was insisting on ‘supporting her.’
And there Callie was, on screen, helmet askew, cheeks flushed.
‘Oh, good grief,’ she said. ‘Why was I already sweating?’
Brian tried not to laugh.
Hannah had no such restraint. ‘You look like you’ve been in the shower.’
Then came the first challenge: a sort of oversized obstacle course that Callie remembered as hard but manageable. On screen, though, the editors had leaned into chaos. Fast cuts, comic music, her slipping in the mud in a way she absolutely had not thought was that dramatic/hilarious at the time.
‘That did not happen like that,’ Callie said, pointing accusingly at the screen.
Brian made a small, sympathetic noise. Christine didn’t even pretend to care about her mortification. ‘Replay that bit.’
‘No!’ Callie grabbed a cushion and held it to her face, peeking over the edge. The slow-motion close-up of her slide appeared anyway. Hannah wheezed with laughter.
‘This is brilliant,’ Hannah said. ‘I’m gonna make a TikTok about you and use this bit.’
‘Don’t make TikToks about me,’ Callie warned weakly.
Hannah laughed like that was a very good joke.
On screen, Callie reached the final obstacle and scrambled over it with a wild, involuntary yell that genuinely did sound like a startled farm animal.
‘Right,’ she said, ‘I’m not watching any more.’
‘You are,’ her mum said, tugging her back down gently. ‘You did brilliantly.’
‘Yeah, you’re hilarious,’ Hannah added.
Her stepdad shot Hannah a look. ‘Enough.’ Then he glanced at Callie. ‘She’s actually very proud of you.’
That familiar, strange feeling cropped up again in Callie. This was her family. Only, it wasn’t. Callie focused very intently on the stitching in the cushion next to her.
The post-challenge interview was next. They’d chosen the bit where she rambled about “letting the mud help you”, which she was fairly sure had made sense at the time but now sounded like nonsense spoken by a woman who’d had her oxygen restricted.
‘Oh, come on,’ she groaned.
Hannah sat up and pressed her back to the sofa next to Callie’s legs. ‘My friend group chat says you suit the mud,’ she offered.
Finally, the credits rolled. Callie shot up at once. ‘Right. I’m done. I survived the real thing, I’ve survived the edit, and now I’m leaving.’
Her stepdad muted the TV. ‘Preview for next week looked dramatic.’
‘No doubt,’ she said, escaping towards the kitchen.
Behind her, she could hear Hannah already rewatching her favourite moments, narrating gleefully to their mum. Callie supposed she should have been used to embarrassment by now. She’d made a career out of it, after all.
But she’d never been quite so aware that people she knew might be watching this. People she’d grown up with. People whose opinions had once mattered so very much.
Back Then
Callie watched the bus pull off, taking Emma with it. As it rounded the corner, Callie tried to head home. But somehow, her legs took her a different route.
The bakery was shuttered properly now, but Callie knew where she might find Mae.
Callie headed around the back of the building. Mae was sitting on an upturned crate, her apron in her lap, pulling the ties into tight little knots.
‘Hi.’
‘Hello,’ Mae said, with the quickest of glances at her before turning back to her knots.
Callie stepped closer, hands shoved in her jacket pockets. ‘Are you alright?’ she asked.
Mae didn’t look up. ‘I’m busy.’
‘With what?’
Mae’s fingers paused for half a second, then kept going. ‘I’m tired.’
Callie blinked. ‘OK.’ She paused. ‘You’re acting weird.’
Mae’s shoulders lifted defensively. ‘I’m not acting weird.’
‘You are.’ Callie moved a step closer. ‘I thought… I don’t know. I thought you’d ask how it went.’
Mae finally looked at her properly then. ‘You didn’t tell me you were going out with her, that she’d asked… or you asked…’
Callie swallowed. Emma had found her on Instagram and DM’d her a few days ago. They’d been chatting. Today had been the first real date, though.
‘Yeah. I know. I should’ve. I was… nervous.’
Mae looked surprisingly thrown by that, like Callie had announced she had a second bumhole.
Callie pushed on. ‘I’ve never gone out with a girl before. I didn’t know what you’d say.’
Mae’s jaw tightened. ‘Why would I say anything?’
‘I don’t know,’ Callie admitted. ‘But you didn’t exactly look thrilled when you saw us.’
Mae’s eyes dropped to the apron again. ‘I just wasn’t expecting it.’
‘Neither was I.’ Callie laughed once, sharply. ‘I know I tell you everything. Except… this.’ She exhaled. ‘I should have.’
Mae didn’t respond.
Callie didn’t like that. Hated it, in fact. ‘Can you tell me what’s going on instead of pretending everything’s normal?’
‘I am normal,’ Mae said stiffly.
Callie stared at her. ‘You were off with Emma today.’
‘I didn’t have anything to say to her.’
‘It’s not like you’ve never met her. You spoke to her last week.’
‘That was different.’
‘How?’
Mae pulled the apron strings tight, the fabric bunching. ‘She was a waitress last time. You know what you’re supposed to say to a waitress. “Please.” “Thank you.” “Do you have any sugar packets?” It’s different now.’
‘How?’ Callie asked once more.
‘She’s… in your life,’ Mae stuttered.
Callie froze. ‘It was only a first date.’
Mae opened her mouth, closed it, and shook her head. ‘Forget it.’
‘No,’ Callie insisted. ‘You’re judging me.’
Mae’s head whipped to look at her. ‘Judging you?’ she asked, incredulous. ‘Why would I judge you?’
‘I don’t know!’ Callie threw up a hand. ‘But you’re acting like I’ve done something…. Emma’s nice. And she likes me. And I like her. And if you can’t deal with that—’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Mae cut in, too fast.
‘Then what is this?’ Callie demanded. ‘Because you’re looking at me like…’
Callie couldn’t finish the sentence. The end of it frightened her too much.
A long moment stretched. Mae didn’t speak. Then she stood abruptly, the crate wobbling beneath her. ‘We open early tomorrow,’ she said, voice thin. ‘I need to get things prepped.’
‘It’s Sunday! You’re not even open!’
But Mae was already moving towards the door at a pace.
Callie stayed where she was, the evening air suddenly too cold on her skin.
Something was wrong. And Callie couldn’t understand it. They’d always talked about everything. Boys, school, future plans, everything.
So why couldn’t they talk about this?