Chapter 28
“All right, spill.”
“What? Where?”
I look around, horrified that I’ve just stained the fluffy white rug in Chloe’s humungous bedroom with barely-alcoholic mimosas, but there’s no mark on the rug, or on me, and I look back at her, confused.
Evie rolls her eyes, before leaning back on her hand and tossing her hair. “Not the drink, you gumball. You. What’s up with you lately? You’ve been acting super weird.”
The “weird” accusation hits hard, even if that’s not how she meant it, but I’m spared a moment to recover by Nikita letting out a noisy cackle and echoing, “Gumball? What the hell kind of insult is that?”
Evie grunts. “Ugh. Don’t even. It’s off this show my little brothers watch. I guess they can’t call anyone a ‘dickhead’ on TV for six-year-olds. It’s on constantly, there is literally no escape. I keep singing the theme song all the time, too.”
She gives us a little rendition, cracking everyone up, but soon enough the attention turns back to me. Daphne gives me a look that I can only describe as “mumsy”—gentle but firm, and full of concern.
“Come on, gumball,” she says. “She’s right; even after we patched things up, you’ve been really quiet lately and not like yourself.”
“I—”
Crap. First Max, then Jake, and even Anissa figured out why I’d wanted to invite her to the Bonfire Night party. And now this! I need to take acting classes, or something. Practice my expressions in front of the mirror.
Right now, it’s New Year’s Eve, it’s eight o’clock, and we’re all piled into Chloe’s bedroom for a much more low-key affair than Raf’s house party.
We’re armed with a good playlist and mimosas that are more orange juice than prosecco, and they’re all looking at me like this is a very nice, obviously premeditated interrogation.
Then Daphne raises her eyebrows and jokes, “Not to keep rehashing the shitty boy drama, but…is it about Jake? You haven’t mentioned him at all lately. Did something happen?”
And that’s the question that finally makes me dissolve into tears. Daphne cries out wordlessly while Nikita says, “Oh, babe, no! What is it?” and Chloe, next to me, pulls me into such a big hug that she spills half my drink over her lap.
It all comes pouring out of me in huge, gasping sobs. I work my way through half a dozen tissues before I have enough breath in my lungs to tell them the whole story.
And this time, I don’t hold back.
I tell them about The Fangirl Project, about the convention in September and Max showing up in cosplay, and the OWAR watch parties he crashed and how, actually, I’d come to really like the show, Anissa, and all the friends I’ve made in the Discord, but I’ve ruined everything.
I tell them about my parents dragging a divorce out for ages and how I’m sick to the back teeth of it.
And now I’ve lost Jake and Max and it almost cost me my friendship with Daphne after the party, and it’s—
Nikita whistles, long and low. “You’re right, babe, that is a lot.”
Daphne smacks her in the arm.
“Ow! It is! That’s not a bad thing to say, is it?”
“You should’ve just talked to us,” Evie tells me. “Especially to me. You know my mom and dad split ages ago, after he ran off with his mistress from the office. I’ve done the whole ‘family falling apart’ thing—ow, Daphne! Stop hitting us!”
I sniffle; I’d forgotten that whole drama around Evie at our old school years ago, but now I remember some boys teasing her about it and how she’d show up to school with bloodshot puffy eyes. She’s right, I could’ve talked to her about it—she probably would’ve understood.
“I never thought about it,” I admit.
“So all those times you’ve been busy working on your art coursework,” Nikita asks, “you were ditching us to hang out with Anissa?”
“I haven’t been ditching you…” Hmm. “Okay, maybe I was a little bit. But we were working on our coursework, too. It’s just, you know, Anissa isn’t exactly…”
“Normal?” Nikita snorts.
“That’s mean, Nik,” Chloe tells her, but Nikita only shrugs.
“I was going to say ‘your kind of person.’ And—” Something bubbles up in my chest, and I swallow the lump in my throat. “And Chloe’s right, that was mean. Anissa’s great. She’s funny, and kind…She’s just shy, that’s all.”
“And a total weirdo,” Nikita presses.
“Why? Because she likes different stuff than you?” My cheeks feel warm, and Nikita does a double take, but none of the girls are looking at me like I’m in the wrong for calling her out, and I remember my conversation with Max through the bathroom door.
“Why does it matter to you if she likes different stuff? It’s not hurting anyone.
It makes her happy. Why is that such a problem? ”
You could hear a pin drop, and I’m surprised to realize that the others are all waiting for Nikita to answer.
“I—I don’t…Well, I just…” She blinks a few times before saying, “Yeah. Okay.”
I blink back at her. We are in a blinking match of epic proportions. I have no idea who’s winning.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” she repeats. “Yeah, you’re right. It…shouldn’t matter? I was mean?” Even though she phrases them as questions, she looks sincere; just awkward.
“And?” says Daphne.
Nikita rolls her eyes, but says, “And…if you want to bring Anissa along to Thursday morning Costa debriefs, I won’t make digs at her or…be mean. I’m not saying I get it, and she is kind of weird, but…yeah, whatever. If you’re cool with her, I am.”
Chloe makes a funny squeaking sound.
Evie says, “Me too. I’m okay if she wants to hang out. As long as it’s not all fandom stuff.”
“It’s not.”
“Is she a witch?” Daphne whispers, wide-eyed and deadly serious.
“I don’t know! Well…I never asked. No? That’s not really a thing, is it?”
“That’s not really a thing,” Nikita says.
“It totally is. Her nan—the Irish one—is a psychic,” Evie says knowledgeably. “I remember her saying in primary school. Her nan’s still got a website and stuff, she does readings online and seances.”
Nikita snorts, but her skepticism seems a little shakier now. She tells me, more softly, “Hey, you do you, Cerys. If Anissa doesn’t want to hang out with us, no worries, that’s up to her. It’s not like you have to pick and choose, or anybody’s giving you an ultimatum.”
I must look surprised, because all four of them laugh.
“Yes, God forbid you have other friends,” Evie deadpans. She waggles her fingers at me. “It’s us or nothing, or I’ll curse you.”
This time, it’s Nikita who gives her a light backhanded swipe on the arm, while Daphne shudders. “Don’t even joke about that sort of stuff, it creeps me out!”
“I actually think it’s pretty cool,” Chloe mumbles. She gives me a squeeze, her arms still wrapped around me from earlier. “And Anissa’s hair looks much better these days. Good for her.”
“Listen,” Daphne says. “I swear, any time I bring up boy drama, I hear it, I do, but…can we just go back to the Jake stuff for a second? It was a big deal! This is your best friend we’re talking about, the love of your life, who apparently fancies you back based on his wild overreaction to you kissing another guy…
although frankly, if he’s that pissed off, you’re better off without him.
What a jealous, sad little boy. I can’t believe he’s just cut you out of his life like that!
He never seemed like that kind of guy when you talked about him.
Even if he is butthurt about you kissing his friend—”
“Did you really kiss the cosplay guy?” Evie interrupts. “Have you got pictures?”
I nod and reach for my phone. As much as I appreciate where Daphne’s coming from with the Jake slander, I am—for once—more comfortable talking about Max instead. I still want to hope that maybe, somehow, there’s a chance to repair what Jake and I had.
This is just our act three conflict before the end of the movie. All good rom-com heroines need to think they’ve lost the man before they get the grand gesture, don’t they? And this is Jake. We’ve been too close for too long to let this go.
I find the Brayden Brown selfie from Comic Con and point Max out, explaining, “Except obviously he doesn’t have long white-blond hair like that. Although his hair is a little long. And—”
“Is this him?”
Daphne’s shoving her phone in my face now, and I realize it’s a photo of the soccer team Max plays on, a shot of him kicking the ball. When I just stare, she says, “Jake tagged the team in his profile.”
Before I can confirm or deny, Evie’s snatched it, and pokes her tongue out over her teeth as her jaw drops.
“Cerys, you’ve been holding out on us! Look at his legs! Look at his butt!”
“I can’t say I’ve ever noticed his butt…”
“Too busy ogling his pointy ears,” she teases, and I flush—not because she’s right this time, but because that’s exactly the sort of thing I was worried about them saying.
But the general consensus is that, yes, Max is hot in that edgy, interesting, Adam Driver–esque way, even if they also find the cosplay thing strange, and stare at me too hard when I say things like “pauldrons” and “bandolier.”
“So is it like…” Chloe’s eyes go wide, suggestive, and she’s blushing when she whispers, “Role play?”
“Oh, no, that’s LARPing. Live action role play.”
Again, they stare at me, and I realize I’ve become someone who knows what LARPing is.
“Kinky,” Nikita deadpans.
“Omigod not that kind of role play!” I cry, laughing, realizing I’ve misunderstood. “I thought you meant like when people go to those renaissance fairs and get dressed up and pretend they’re actually an elf warrior or something. Not like that.”
“Hmm, I don’t know,” Daphne murmurs, taking my phone to look again at the Brayden Brown selfie. “The wig’s kind of hot.”
Now it’s her turn to feel the full force of everyone’s stare.
“What! I’ve seen a lot of TikToks of Henry Cavill in The Witcher. It is hot.”
“Are you a secret nerd, too?” Chloe teases her.
Daphne rolls her eyes and hands my phone back. “Nope, just a sucker for a good jawline. Not, obviously, that there’s anything wrong with being a nerd and liking that stuff, Cerys, it’s just, um, it’s not for me, I don’t think.”
“R-right, yeah, th-thanks.”
They’re not going to cut me loose or mock me. They’re not going to shun me. They don’t necessarily get it, but…
Max was right; I don’t have to pretend the things I like don’t matter to me just for other people’s sake. I don’t have to make my life smaller to accommodate what they think is right, just because it’s “the done thing.”
I’m still reeling, waiting for the other shoe to drop with bated breath, when Chloe bursts out with—
“I’m a Twitch streamer!”
“You’re what?” Nikita says. “Like, video games?”
She nods, and bites her lip before saying, “I fell into an internet hole during lockdown and got really into collecting Pokémon, and then I started playing the video games, and now I have twenty-three thousand followers.”
“And you didn’t tell us…why?” Daphne cries, outrage written all over her face.
I wince on Chloe’s behalf, and Chloe stammers while Daphne barrels on, ignoring her.
“I cannot believe we’ve been friends for eight years and you’ve never, not once, mentioned this!
I could’ve been throwing you Pokémon-themed birthday parties!
Buying you socks covered in Pikachu for Christmas, instead of ones with horses! ”
“I still like horses,” she says. “But, um, sometimes I’m not at show-jumping classes. I’m streaming.”
“This is madness.” Daphne snatches her phone up and narrows her eyes at Chloe. “Now tell me where to find your channel so you can have twenty-three thousand and one followers. Also, Cerys, should I block Jake on Instagram? That seems appropriate.”
“I think we should get drunk and DM him to call him out on being such a gumball,” Nikita says, making Evie groan and mutter into her hands, “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
I shake my head, smiling. “You don’t need to block him. And I don’t want to call him out. I’ll…I need to deal with it. He’s avoiding me, but we’ve been friends for too long to just fizzle out like this. If he doesn’t want me around anymore, I want him to tell me. And not over a drunk text.”
“Fair,” Nikita says, and that’s all we say of Jake before we make Twitch accounts to follow Chloe’s channel, and then after enough pestering I cave and let them read some of my fanfictions, which gives us all a good giggle.
Later, I text Anissa to wish her a happy New Year, and then ring in midnight with a shouted countdown and Buck’s Fizz with the girls, feeling light and giddy in a way that has nothing to do with the drinks.
It feels like a good way to put the past year to rest, even if something is still missing.