Chapter 2 #2
The spot was perfect. The sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling the exposed roots below, one of which arched up out of the ground, creating the perfect seat for Fatima to perch on.
I took my phone out and started snapping some test shots, crouching down and then standing on my tiptoes, practising for when my high-strung subject was present.
I could already picture the glint of light off her long, dark hair, perfectly showcasing the braids I’d helped her weave.
Then, because I had the spatial awareness of a distracted toddler, I took a step backwards, and the heel of my too-large boot caught on a bulging tree root. I pinwheeled, arms flailing, and crashed back into something solid, warm, and vaguely person-shaped.
There was a metallic clang, then the unmistakable splatter of liquid on canvas. I turned, already mortified, and found myself staring at the back of a woman in all black, her arms held out as if she’d been carrying something.
A keg, it turned out, which was now burst open on a rock, mead geysering from the split at its base.
And the woman – tall, slender, with light brown waves bunched into a low, loose ponytail – was soaked, drops of amber liquid falling from her still-extended arms. She turned around slowly, and I was confronted with a stormy expression as she glared at me.
Mead ran down her sleeves, soaked through her trousers, and splattered her heavy boots.
It dripped off a gold coin she wore on a chain around her neck as she leaned forward.
She was all sharp lines and daggered cheekbones, with tawny eyes that looked like they wanted to murder me in several creative ways.
“Oh my god,” I yelped, hands flying to my face. “I am so, so sorry. I wasn’t—”
The woman looked at me, then at the gushing keg, then back at me. She spoke, her accent mostly American, but with a twinge of something familiar.
“Fuck’s sake, watch where you’re going!” she snapped, her voice more than a little raised. “What are you even doing back here?”
“I’m just – uh – I—” I scrambled for words, unsure why she had me so flustered. “I was taking pictures? For my friend?”
“Brilliant,” she said flatly, eyes narrowing to slits. “You just cost me an entire keg of summer batch. Hope your Instagram post is worth it.”
Just then, one of the mead wenches – the same blonde who had been moaning sweet nothings at me ten minutes ago – burst through the dripping tent flap, taking in the scene with a shocked expression. “Teddy, what did I say about using the trolley?”
The woman – Teddy, apparently – spoke over her shoulder, though her glare never stopped boring into me. “It doesn’t like the rocks and tree roots.”
“Yeah, well, neither do the kegs.” The wench shook her head, then looked past Teddy to me with an eyebrow raised. “You supposed to be back here?”
I shook my head so hard my wings rattled. “No, but listen, that was totally my f—”
The wench shook her head in an authoritative enough way that it shut me up, which was saying something. “Back to the fairway,” she said, guiding me from behind as she pushed me towards the way I’d come in. “Now.”
I just about caught the look on Teddy’s face as I left: all anger and humiliation and …
okay, maybe it was mostly anger. It was probably best I didn’t stick around to let her be mean to me; I hadn’t been joking that I was unfortunately into that sort of thing.
So I hung my head and left through the same flap I’d come through, the “cast members only” sign clipping my shoulder as I went.
“Sorry, did you text me?” Fatima asked as I walked back up to the group, pulling her phone out of her belt bag. I shook my head.
“We may have to settle for something back home,” I said. “I got in trouble.” Actually, I caused the trouble, I didn’t say.
Jack frowned. “What kind of trouble?”
But I just shook my head. “It’s fine. Let’s just go and watch a show maybe?”
Grey cleared their throat. “Actually, can I, uh, hijack everyone’s attention for a sec?”
Everyone turned expectantly towards them. Grey was the most laid-back person any of us knew, so for them to ask for attention felt instantly urgent. Ominous, even.
“I got an email last night,” they said, “and I’ve been officially offered a promotion.”
“Amazing!” Fatima said, beaming, wrapping them in a hug.
“Yeah, huge congrats!” Jack added.
“Well done,” Amy said, smiling. “Now, please forgive my ignorance, but—”
“What does a promotion from train guard look like?” Phil finished, and we all laughed; I suspected we’d all been thinking the same thing.
“Fair enough,” Grey said, laughing, too. “It’s a training job for new guards. But the catch is, I’d have to be based at the headquarters near Cardiff.”
My eyes roved around the circle, watching as every single smile dropped, some more than others.
“Oh,” Morgan said plainly.
“Wow,” Fatima gasped.
“It’s good news,” Grey clarified. “I applied for it. But obviously it’s big news.”
For everyone else, the news sunk in, and their smiles began to grow again.
Cardiff was only about ninety minutes away from where we lived, and Grey assured us they’d already promised their mum monthly visits at least. But as everyone high-fived and hugged them, congratulating them again, that stabbing feeling in my chest returned, as if the mead sloshing around in my belly was further fermenting inside me.
Phil nudged his way over to me, whispering in my ear. The bastard was ever-so-perceptive, even when I could have done without it. “You okay, Chlo?”
I hadn’t realised my hand was clenched so tightly around my can that the metal was warping. I let go, forcing my fingers to relax, and managed, “Yeah, just, wow. It’s a lot, you know?”
He gave me a sidelong glance, his blue eyes dark and a little worried. “If you wanna talk—”
“I’m fine,” I said, too quickly. “Really, I’m good. Just need a minute to, like, absorb it all.”
But I wasn’t fine. Not at all. I actually couldn’t breathe very well, come to think of it.
Jack cracked a joke about something, and everyone laughed again, but I barely heard it. The sounds of the Ren Faire – the strum of a lute, the thrum of the crowd, the hawkers’ shouts – turned to a buzz, getting louder and thinner all at once.
I stepped back, muttering something about needing another drink, and stumbled away from the group before anyone could stop me.
The good thing about open-air festivals was that, if you wanted to disappear, you could.
I followed the sound of distant cheers towards a row of food stalls, beyond which a tall fence separated the fairway from the jousting arena.
I blinked back tears, furious at myself for being so fucking sensitive.
This wasn’t about me. What kind of friend couldn’t find it in herself to congratulate her mate on a promotion they’d wanted?
People moved, people changed jobs, life happened.
But the truth was, every time one of my friends grew up a little more, took a step forward, I felt like I was being left behind on the first level of a game everyone else had already beaten.
The tears finally broke through, coming hot and fast, my breath nothing more than ragged gasps. I pressed my forehead to the fence, letting the rough wood bite into my skin. “Get it together, Chloe,” I whispered. “You’re fine. It’s fine. Things change. Don’t be so dramatic.”
As the tears ebbed, I turned around to lean my back against the fence, wiping my tears with the heel of my hand, trying to pretend I was just a normal person enjoying a breather and not, in fact, a basket case melting down over her friend’s success.
The raw feeling eventually began to fade from my throat, and the heat dissipated from my cheeks enough that I was just thinking about going back to find the others, when suddenly I spotted a black-clad figure moving purposefully across the fairway.
Teddy.
I don’t know what compelled me, but I pushed away from the fence and strode towards her, heart thumping like I’d swallowed a bass drum. She noticed me instantly, and her mouth tightened, though she didn’t slow down as she carried on perpendicular to me.
“Hey!” I called, then immediately regretted the volume as I saw heads turn towards me. I kept going anyway, changing course to intercept her. “Hey, can we talk for a second?”
She didn’t answer, didn’t stop, so I sped up slightly and cut her off, causing her to rock back on her heels to avoid running into me. The canvas tote bag slung over her shoulder swung dramatically as she stopped.
“I’m really, really sorry about earlier,” I blurted.
“With the keg. Obviously, you know I meant the keg; that’s the only time we’ve seen each other.
I wasn’t looking, and I’m just – clumsy today, I guess.
I know it was a lot of work to haul all that, and look, if there’s anything I can do to help, or pay for what I ruined, I…
” My voice was going all wobbly, so I dug into the pouch I wore at my hip, yanked out a pen and the folded festival map, and ripped off a corner.
“Here,” I said, scrawling my number on it messily.
“If the mead place needs to bill someone, I’ll take care of it. ”
She stared at the scrap of paper in my hand, then at me. For a second, I thought she was going to take it, but she just shook her head.
“Not necessary,” she said, flat and cold. “I already got fired.”
I blinked. “What? But it wasn’t your fault. I mean, I walked into you, I—”
“Doesn’t matter.” She stared off towards the jousting field. “Apparently, I’m not allowed to be mad at a guest when they do something reckless and inconsiderate.”
Her words stung more than I wanted to admit, but I grinned, trying to placate her. “Look, I didn’t mean—”