Unreal Alchemy

by Tansy Rayner Roberts

  A most amazing smell comes wafting down the stairs from the flat above: garlic and butter and spices.

  “Lunch!” Dec yells down the stairs. “Come and get it!”

  Sage refers to their place as the Manic Pixie Dream House, claiming they are the vanguard of some kind of post-apocalyptic arts-and-geekery commune. He and Dec like to pretend they are in a niche reality TV show for gaming nerds, which drives no-sense-of-humour Matteus up the wall. He is one of those serious Real Conservatory student types who thinks practicing the violin until your fingers bleed is normal.

  “That smells amazing,” says Mei, lifting her head out of her laptop. “Will I have to talk to people?”

  “Nah,” says Holly, already texting Nora and Juniper to get their butts over to the house. “Keep your mouth full at all times and they can’t make you socialise.”

  “You get me,” Mei says happily. “I knew living here would work out.”

  They crowd around the small kitchen table in the upstairs flat: Dec and his current girlfriend Jo, Matteus, Sage, Hebe, Holly, that terrible boyfriend that Holly has been trying to break up with for three weeks now (Hebe refuses to learn his name), Mei and Mei’s phone. They are halfway through their helpings of Dec’s Saucy Butter Chicken, Delicious Dhal, Holy Crap That’s Hot Rogan Josh, and Oops Left It In The Oven Too Long Pick Off The Burnt Bits Garlic Naan when Nora, Nora’s girlfriend Vincenza, and Juniper turn up.

  Lunch lasts for three hours. It’s epic. When it’s finally over, they all lie around groaning on beanbags in the living room, watching old Athena Owl episodes and listening to Nora report on the viewing numbers of their first Fake Geek Girl YouTube vid.

  “Hey, the new season of The Bromancers is starting soon,” says Sage. “We should rewatch the first one.”

  “Four hundred and twelve!” says Nora.

  “Ugh,” says Holly, who disapproves of The Bromancers because she hates fun.

  Hebe smiles warmly at Dec, who is the centre of her world right now. “Any time you want to cook for us, you are more than welcome.”

  “Nuh uh,” said Dec. “Next comfort lunch happens in your kitchen, ladies.”

  Hebe feels her domestic magic twitch at the thought. “I suppose…”

  “Four hundred and fourteen,” says Nora.

  “Hebe makes a great shepherd’s pie,” says Sage, too sleepy to censor himself.

  Because yes, she does. She used to make it all the time when he was coming over, back when they were in high school and he was her boyfriend. Usually he remembers not to refer to the relationship years, because there’s still a tiny tension hanging between them that they can’t quite shake.

  Hebe looks for that tension right now, and can’t find it. Maybe it drowned in curry.

  “Sage makes a better lasagne,” she mutters in retaliation.

  “Feel free to prove this, both of you,” volunteers Nora. “Next Saturday… Holy crap.” She jack-knifes up on the couch, like she was electro-cursed. “That can’t be right. Our views jumped.”

  “Jumped a lot,” says Mei, eyes on her phone. “Is that — it’s at eight hundred now.”

  “No way,” says Sage. “There’s more than eight hundred people interested in a song called Witches Roll Dice, Bitches? I thought we were niche.”

  “Fuck,” says Nora. “Over eight fifty. Whaaat?”

  “Okay,” says Hebe, realising she’s not going to get anything intelligible out of any of the band members for the rest of the day. “If you get to ten thousand before next Saturday, I will make you all shepherd’s pie. Vegetarian AND beef.”

  And she does.

  Chapter 3

  Nora & Juniper Know When They’re Not Needed

  This isn’t the first time that Holly derails one of their band practices with some random idea, but it’s the most dramatic incident in Nora’s recent memory. Here’s how it happens: Holly marches in ten minutes late and announces: “I have a new song but I need to sing it to Sage first, okay?”

  “Do you uh, want us to leave?” asks Juniper, which is a way more polite response than the one Nora was considering.

  “Please. For like ten minutes,” says Holly.

  Nora is mostly impressed that Holly knows how to say ‘please.’ She shrugs, and grabs her bag. “We’ll be at that macrobiotic muffin place on the corner. You’re buying.”

  “Whatever,” says Holly, and hands her a ten dollar note.

  As Nora holds the door open for Juniper, she hears Holly say: “The working title is: You Broke My Sister’s Heart With Your Big Gay Break Up And I Finally Made her Admit It, So I’m Either Going To Turn You Into A Toad Or Make You Talk About Feelings Because You’re My Friend And I Can’t Throw You A Damn Pride Parade Until We Clear The Air On This One.”

  And she hears Sage say: “Oh, fuck,” like he has been expecting this horrible inevitability.

  “I recognise that the title still needs work,” says Holly.

  “Go on, then,” says Sage quietly. “Hit me.”

  “Walk faster,” Nora urges, dragging Juniper out of there before they can hear any more.

  Juniper is jittery as they sit down at the muffin place and give their orders. “I don’t think I should have left Irene there with them. Last time Holly and Sage had a row, it took me three days to retune her.”

  “I don’t think they’re rowing,” says Nora. “I think something cathartic is happening, which is worse. Irene would have slowed us down — better her than us.” Feelings are messy. Nora is only a year and a half older than Holly and Sage but they feel like children in comparison: between them, those two have more feelings than an entire kindergarten.

  Juniper looks unhappy. “I know what you’re saying, but I actually like Irene better than most people, so.”

  They stay at the muffin place for forty minutes, with no sign of their bandmates. Nora is starting to think that Holly has straight up murdered Sage, and they are going to have to audition a new drummer.

  Drumming auditions are the worst.

  At the fifty minute mark, Nora’s phone pings with a text:

  Holly’s Resting Witch Face: All Clear

  * * *

  Nora is So Awesome: Need us to help hide a body?

  * * *

  Holly’s Resting Witch Face: Not this time, but I appreciate your declaration of allegiance.

  * * *

  Drummers Are Doofuses: You realise I’m on this group chat, babes?

  * * *

  Holly’s Resting Witch Face: Shut up and work on that bridge for me. This is gonna be our best song yet.

  * * *

  Drummers Are Doofuses: Fine, but you get to tell Hebe that you wrote it.

  * * *

  Holly’s Resting Witch Face: …shit.

  Chapter 4

  Hebe & Holly are Superstars at the Gay Bar

  “See?” says Holly, finding them a not-too-sticky table away from the loudest speakers. “This is what you need. A night out. Put yourself back out there. Gonna find you a boyf to keep you warm this winter. Or a date, at least. I know you’re too goody-goody to consider a random hook up.” She clinks her bottle against Hebe’s. “No judgement, it’s totally sweet how boring you are.”

  “If the point of tonight is to get me a date, why are we at a gay bar?” Hebe complains.

  “Because I want to hook up with a girl tonight, obviously. Do I have to give you that speech again about how I’m eighteen and a rock singer so basically being selfish is my job?”

  “No, I know that one by heart already.” Hebe isn’t not enjoying herself, though she would still rather spend her Saturday night hanging out with new flatmate Mei. Their mutual love of silence is only matched by their mutual love of Athena Owl, the best anime series of all time, and there is a new episode dropping tonight.

  “Nora wants us to start a YouTube channel,” says Holly. “Thoughts?”

  “What does it matter what I think, Hol? It’s your band.”

  “It always matters what you think,” says
Holly.

  Hebe isn’t listening. She is staring across the dance floor to where Sage — her Sage — is grinding and making out with another guy. Because that’s a thing that happens now.

  “Shit,” says Holly, when she spots him. “Hebes, I’m so sorry, I had no idea he was coming here tonight. Do you want to get out of here?”

  “No,” says Hebe woodenly. “It’s fine.”

  Holly sets her bottle down with a clang. “It’s — Hebe. You know you don’t have to be fine about this like 100% of the time, right? It’s only been a few months. You can be — angry or hurt or whatever. It doesn’t make you homophobic to have feelings.”

  “I’m not angry,” says Hebe. It sounds like her voice is a long way away. “I’m — why can’t I be fine? What’s wrong with fine?”

  Her magic, which thrives on contentment and domestic settings, gives a sickening lurch under her. Suddenly the table is clean. It feels polished under her fingertips.

  Hebe gulps. Throw cushions started to appear around her. On the chairs, on the table. People will notice. Sage might detach his tongue from that random dude, turn around and see her being upset. And the world would end.

  “I have to go,” she manages, and runs for it, leaving an unexpectedly tasteful throw rug and an antique lamp on the table behind her.

  She barely even realises she’s crying until she finds herself sitting on the curb outside the bar, with her sister’s arms wrapped around her. “I don’t know why I’m even — I’m fine,” she sobs.

  “You’re brilliant,” Holly says into her neck. “You’re perfect. Do you want me to quit?”

  Hebe takes a deep, shuddering breath. It’s ridiculous to fall apart like this. She has been so proud of herself for managing all this change without an emotional collapse, and here she is causing outbreaks of Better Homes and Gardens in a bar called Sappho & Steel. What a mess.

  Also, this pavement wasn’t lined with pretty flower pots when they arrived.

  Holly’s words finally sink in. “Quit what, quit the band? Holly, no. It’s your band.”

  “I know,” her sister mutters. “But — I don’t have to be selfish all the time. If you need Sage to not be so up in our lives right now, I can quit. I’ll be the mysterious Fake Geek Girl who left before they got famous. We can find somewhere else to live, and I can not be in the band. If it’s too hard, I pick you. I’ll always pick you.”

  Hebe has never loved her sister more. “You don’t have to choose,” she manages, finding a perfectly clean tissue (of course) in her pocket where there wasn’t one before. She wipes her eyes. “I don’t want you to choose. I want Sage to be all up in our lives. He’s my best friend, and that hasn’t changed. I won’t let it change. It’s not even — it’s not like he cheated on me, or was mean to me. Breaking up wasn’t personal. It doesn’t make sense that it hurts this much.”

  “It doesn’t have to make sense,” Holly says fiercely. “I will turn him into a toad if it will make you feel better.”

  “No toads,” says Hebe. The tissue is dry even after the third time she has wiped her eyes. Domestic magic, so useful. “Let’s go home and see if we can bribe Mei away from her laptop, using devious cunning or ice cream.”

  “I like the way you think,” says Holly. She has that look on her face, like she’s plotting something, but Hebe doesn’t want to know.

  Chapter 5

  Hebe Knows That Juniper Is Going To Be Fine

  Hebe has no idea how she ended up babysitting a rock band. She’s mostly stayed out of their way so far, through the auditions and rehearsals. It’s good for her to get some breathing space, away from Holly and Sage, still the two points around which she constantly orbits, even in this new life of university classes and share housing.

  Sage has nested in the flat upstairs, regularly clomping up and down to ask Holly about songs or amp cords or whatever. Holly is her usual whirlwind self, but Hebe has lived with her all of their lives, and this is nothing new — when Holly is in the flat, she’s all noise and movement, and when she is gone it’s weirdly empty.

  Hebe has fallen into a kind of unspoken competition with their new flatmate Mei — when Holly is out, they test themselves for how long they can go without speaking aloud. It’s glorious.

  They knew each other for more than a year online, through message boards about Athena Owl’s disastrous Australian spin off series, Archimedes Down Under. Hebe and Mei are the only Australians in the world who actually like that show. Legit. There’s a small fandom in Japan, but even they are faintly embarrassed by the whole thing.

  Hebe was worried about how they would work as flatmates IRL, but it’s worked out fine, especially the non talking part.

  The other day, they sat on opposite ends of the couch for two hours and when Mei got up to put the kettle on, she texted Hebe from the kitchen to see if she wanted one.

  Bliss.

  Anyway, the band is Holly and Sage and Nora and Juniper and NOT HEBE. That boundary has been extremely important since the whole Fake Geek Girl thing started. Until tonight.

  It’s their first gig playing live: three songs at the Medea’s Cauldron open mic night. They are supposed to go on in fifteen minutes, but Sage is MIA, Holly started drinking early to take the edge off and is halfway to not being able to get on stage, Nora is so pissed off at Holly she is close to walking out on not just the gig but the band itself, and Juniper is having a nervous breakdown in the alley behind the pub.

  Sage is not Hebe’s responsibility any more. Holly is… well, Holly’s always going to be her responsibility. Nora is Nora.

  Juniper is the one she feels for.

  So when Sage strolls in, Hebe shoves a wobbly Holly straight at him, growls “fix this” and runs after Juniper.

  “I can’t do this,” Juniper whispers, crouching down on the back steps like she is about to throw up.

  “You can,” Hebe promises, patting her back gingerly. “Didn’t you say you’ve been performing since you were six?”

  “In orchestras and choirs! Not — I’m not rock and roll or indie or anything cool,” Juniper gasps for air. “I’m not Holly, I can’t…”

  “None of us is Holly,” Hebe says sharply. “That’s a feature, not a bug.”

  Juniper stares at her, and then hiccups into laughter. “That’s really mean.”

  “I know, right? I’m the mean sister. She’s the nice one.”

  Juniper laughs at that too, long and hard.

  Somehow, Hebe knows exactly what to say next. “Holly thinks you’re rock and roll,” she declares, and casts a gentle charm, one of their favourite from high school. A single lock of Juniper’s hair falls out of her messy bun, glowing bright pink. Another one beside it slides down, gleaming and teal.

  Hebe brushes Juniper’s lower lip with her thumb, casting the lip gloss enchantment that every thirteen year old witch learns and promptly over-uses for several years.

  You can go a long way on the confidence of a little lip gloss and the right person believing in you.

  Juniper straightens her shoulders. “She does?”

  “She definitely does,” says Hebe.

  Back inside, Sage sobers Holly up with another popular charm memorised by most teenagers. Nora is standing with them, game face on. Hebe delivers Juniper to them and goes to find a seat near Dec and a sulky Matteus.

  Okay, fine. She’s invested in the band. Whatever. That doesn’t make it a structural part of her life. It’s peripheral. She can give it up any time she likes.

  Fake Geek Girl play three songs. The first two are pretty good, but the third… something magic happens with the third. All the ingredients come together and bang! Perfect alchemy, like Sage has been banging on about all year. Nora on keyboards, Holly on vocals, Juniper on cello, Sage on drums.

  The song is kinda stupid, but catchy and full of snark. The audience loves it. The band looks like they are actually having fun.

  There is wild applause and a few catcalls at the end. The band stares out at the
half-full pub, red-faced and pleased with themselves. Hebe claps her hands together so hard that it hurts. Joy bubbles over as she realises she can enjoy this moment without that old sting of misery ruining things every time she looks at Sage.

  I really am fine about this, she realises. Thank goodness. It would be awful if I wasn’t.

  Chapter 6

  Nesting with Hebe & Sage & Holly

  Hebe meets up with her sister and her… Sage at Cirque de Cacao which is rapidly becoming their favourite haunt, two months into their first year at Belladonna University.

  “So I found somewhere decent to live, finally,” says Sage. “A flat-share with these two blokes, Dec and Matteus. Close to campus, and the rent’s manageable. Tiny rooms — it’s basically the top floor of a small house, but it’s better than that shithole I’m in now.” He eats two chocolate croissants off their share plate while talking.

  “Bags not helping you move again,” says Holly. “I’m still scraping the grunge off my shoes from last time. Hey, I found us a gig! You know that pub where we heard Kraken play the other night, Medea’s Cauldron? They do an open mic night on the last Sunday of every month, to try out new bands. I signed us up for a half set, that’s three songs!”

  Hebe grabs the last croissant before Sage, and takes some satisfaction from biting into it. “You don’t have three songs,” she points out. “You’ve practiced the same two all summer, and you’ve only just figured out how to add cello to the second one.”

  “Time to expand our repertoire, right Sagey-boy?” Holly grins, knocking back her latte.

  “Sure,” says Sage, distracted. “Hey, are you two still looking for a place together?”