32
The class rushed through the discussion on Dear Martin, as they were anxious to discuss what to do with Michael’s book. I dismiss the rest of the class who haven’t participated in the storyboarding.
Samuel strides up to the whiteboard, writing the names of the three main characters on the board. “Alright, give me your candidate to die and why.”
“Who’s teaching this class?”
Samuel points the marker at me. “You teach class, but this isn’t class.”
“Fair point.”
Lily raises her hand. “Adrian, obviously. The story wouldn’t feel complete if he lives, that a threat would still be there.”
I nod. “Unless he gets a redemption arc.”
“There’s no redeeming qualities to his character.”
“I think either Teddy or Felix needs to go,” Noah says, flipping through to a page in the manuscript. “If you kill Adrian, the reader is going to be happy with the outcome. I thought we were going for a gut punch.”
“Fair,” Samuel says, “so can we agree that of these three, only one will be left standing.”
Everyone murmurs in agreement. Samuel moves down the board. “Next is the setting for the final battle. Michael has written up to the fight but has kinda left it open ended and we can go either light or dark.”
“Makes sense to have it in the Dark Land. They are more powerful there, so the battle would be more epic.” Delilah puts her head down on her desk. “Wow. I sound like a nerd.”
“Nerds are having a moment,” Samuel says, writing Dark Land on the board. “How long should the battle last? Like chapter wise.”
It was a good question. Some stories the whole journey leads to the final battle, and it can be over in a single chapter.
Other series can have the final book essentially be the entire battle.
Which leaves the interpretation up to the reader whether it was a slog to get there, or if it was wrapped up too quickly.
“I’m thinking,” Lily approaches the board, “it should be four chapters. The first being the lead up to the pseudo-battlefield. Chapters two and three take the brunt of the action, with chapter two seeing our heroes seeming down for the count and chapter three when there’s an impassioned turn of events.
Leaving chapter four as the final battle with Adrian versus Felix and Teddy. Any more than that will seem too long.”
I watch the students brainstorming back and forth, and it’s quite the sight. These kids have done more for this novel than they’ll ever realize. Something, personally, I would have gotten stuck on. Too afraid to not honor Michael’s vision.
But it gives me an idea. A future course where the students work together to write, or at least outline, a novel.
They would work all semester to bring the draft to fruition.
It would publish and they would all get copies.
Maybe it’s self-published through an account linked to the program and the proceeds could be used towards scholarships for future students.
It’s certainly something to bring up with Moira the next time we meet.
“Last thing,” Noah says, tapping a marker against the whiteboard. “What’s the true ending? Like, after the battle. Is it an epilogue? If so, how far in the future? I don’t think it ends on a cliffhanger because, without sounding callous, Michael won’t be writing another one.”
“I think I know how the story should end. It’s a bit crazy though.” Hughie walks up to Noah and whispers in his ear. Noah’s eyes go wide.
“Little lad…that’s…just amazing. And perfect. Did you come up with that on your own?”
Hughie nods, and then turns to tell the rest of us his idea.
It’s unexpected. It’s perfect.
* * *
To celebrate, when we leave the school grounds, I ask Hughie what he wants to do.
“Christmas market!”
Ever since our Thanksgiving movie night, Christmas has been the theme for almost everything we’ve done. And I don’t hate it. I love Christmas. I’m also surprised it’s taken this long for us to make it to one of the Christmas markets.
I look up on my phone to see where the closest one is, which is a roughly ten-minute walk to Dublin Castle. A straight shot up Dame Street, right after Doom Slice. “This way your majesty.”
It’s warm for a December day, hovering right around fifty degrees.
Well, ten degrees Celsius. From what I’ve gathered it’s typical for here, but I’m used to colder December days back home.
I’m out here walking around in a button down and jeans, getting weird looks from the locals in their puffy jackets.
But when we round the corner, you wouldn’t know it was fifty degrees, because we are fully engulfed in a Christmas wonderland.
The grounds in front of Dublin Castle are decked out in Christmas trees in an assortment of colors and decorations, a giant carousel in the middle of it all.
Stalls are lined up in rows in front of the castle.
We pass by vendors selling spiced nuts, giant Bavarian pretzels, what appears to be hot mulled wine. Giant displays of handcrafted ornaments and hand-knit sweaters and scarves. Chocolates and candies of countless varieties.
I have always wanted to go to a Christmas market in Europe, but never made it to one until now. It is truly a magical event.
I order a hot chocolate for Hughie and, what I’ve now learned, a glühwein for me. I also buy us some spiced almonds and a pretzel to snack on. A group of carolers have begun singing, so we sit on a bench watching them while we finish our snacks.
“Have you ever been caroling?” Hughie asks me, staring at the singers.
“Don’t have the voice for it I’m afraid. Don’t want to be known for torturing the neighbors.” This elicits a laugh from Hughie.
The carolers move onto another spot in the market, so Hughie turns his attention to the carousel. “Can I ride it?”
“Sure thing, buddy.” I pay admission for him and I, the ride already pretty packed. In fact, the whole market is pretty busy for it being the middle of a work day. And the market is mostly adults drinking in the middle of the afternoon.
Definitely my kind of vibe.
The ride ends, Hughie and I shuffling back to the market stalls. “Do you want another hot chocolate?”
“Sure!”
“Alright. Why don’t you go sit on that bench over there and I’ll get us another round.
” Hughie promptly takes a seat and I head over to the glühwein booth.
The line is rather long, and the bench is barely out of my sight.
I lean over and see Hughie sitting there, kicking his legs and people watching.
The line slowly creeps forward. Looking over the menu, there are also options for a hot white wine and a spiked punch. Maybe I’ll go with the punch this round.
“Thought that was you,” I turn around to a familiar voice, finding Jackson in line behind me.
“Jackson! Hi.” He smiles at me, and then it dawns on me.
I ran out of Doom Slice the night Niall and I got together. When I had been grinding up against Jackson, and literally ran out of the bar for another man. And hadn’t talked to him since.
“Let me explain—”
“No need,” Jackson says, a hand up. “At first, I wondered what the fuck happened. But I saw you out one night a few weeks after. With one of your friends. Although, at that point, it didn’t seem to be just friendly anymore.”
I sigh. “It still doesn’t excuse me ghosting you like that. If it means anything, I did like you and enjoyed the night. It’s just…”
Jackson nods. “It’s just there was someone else and the timing was all wrong?”
“I guess you could say that. I am sorry, you know. Let me at least buy you a drink to make up for it.”
I get to the front of the line and end up chickening out, ordering two traditional glühwein along with Hughie’s hot chocolate.
“I should get this back to my…hmm, okay. This will sound more complicated and weirder than it actually is. This hot chocolate is for my boyfriend’s nephew that accompanies me to my classes every afternoon. Who he’s kinda the legal guardian for.”
Jackson laughs. “You really jumped in the deep end then.”
“I guess so.” We round the corner on the line.
Hughie’s not on the bench.
“Oh fuck.” I turn to Jackson.
“What?”
“He’s gone. Hughie’s gone.”