by Lucy Knott
I smooth down my dress with my gin-free hand and roll my shoulders back, the image of Ruby looking gorgeous in her figure-hugging dress engraved in my mind. I turn around to greet Devon.
‘Hi,’ I say, awkwardly giving him a wave, even though he is less than a metre in front of me. I was going to go for the handshake, contemplated a hug, but it came out as a wave. Devon takes an awkward two steps forward and one step back as if he was going in for a hug too, so I don’t feel as embarrassed.
‘You came,’ he says, giving me a side smile that makes a dimple pop in his right cheek. He looks different to earlier when he had been stood with Ruby and the boys from school, almost shy and less intimidating. I try and shake off thoughts of Ruby and think of something to say, but it’s hard when Devon is studying me. His brown eyes scan my dress and then fall on my eyes, creating a flutter of butterflies deep in my belly.
‘Nice to see you again, Devon,’ Hope says stepping forward and giving him a quick hug. Her voice sounds more authoritative compared to this morning. I can see she is still gobsmacked over casually getting to hug a superhero but she’s playing my best friend card and doing her duties now that she knows mine and Devon’s story a little better. I welcome her interruption and take a refreshing sip of gin.
‘You know Hope; this is Jess. Just give him a minute, he’s a little bit in love with you,’ I say, stepping aside and introducing Jess. My shoulders relax a touch when I see how ecstatic Jess is. It’s hard not to be transported back to being my sixteen-year-old self freaking out over the thought of one day meeting Robert Downey Jr. Though that was another dream I never pursued after turning my back on the whole comic universe, I can empathise with how awesome this moment is for one of my best friends and I’m behaving myself, like I promised Hope I would, and I’m letting him have his moment.
‘Hi, Jess,’ Devon says but I can’t help noticing it sounds a little icy. It stops me in my tracks. Ten years goes out of the window along with whatever awkwardness I felt moments ago as I whack Devon in his thick bicep. ‘Devon, this is one of my best friends, Jess.’ I nudge him again harder and give him a pointed glare.
Devon’s mouth opens wide and his eyes light up. ‘Your friend?’ he reiterates, resting a hand over his chest.
My brows furrow and I look down to check my glass to see how much gin I’ve consumed. I’m not even halfway through my glass yet, so it’s definitely Devon acting weird.
‘Yes, my friend,’ I repeat slowly.
‘And my boyfriend,’ Hope chimes in merrily, squeezing Jess’s shoulders. ‘He’s been terribly excited to meet you since I told him about you last night.’
I look at Hope’s glass, which is empty.
‘You’re one of Scar’s best friends – sorry, hi, Jess. It’s so great to meet you and thank you for being a fan too. It’s loud in here. Should we get a table?’ Devon says, shaking Jess’s hand and bringing him in for a hug, putting him at ease instantly, his voice now filled with warmth once again.
‘Hi, erm, yeah that sounds good,’ Jess manages as Devon guides him to the booth by the fire. Hope and I follow, me ignoring Hope’s side elbows and giddy winks and wondering why Devon had for a split second come across a little hostile to Jess. Had Hollywood turned him into an egotistical man who felt superior to other men?
9
‘Don’t tell your mum,’ my dad says with a wink, placing two glasses of lemonade on the table – one for me and one for Devon. Then he scoots up next to me in the booth with his pint of Guinness. I smile up at him, then get back to work concentrating on my colouring.
‘I’m nearly done, Dad, don’t look yet,’ I say, my tongue sticking out as I try really hard not to colour outside the lines.
‘I’m done,’ D announces, turning his sheet over so I can’t see it before taking a sip of his lemonade.
I colour in the last golden edge of the crown and carefully put my pencil crayon back in my precious Spider-Man pop-out pencil case. I take a big slurp of lemonade, the bubbles tickling my tongue, before I clutch my paper to my chest.
‘OK, I’m ready,’ I tell the judge.
‘Mr Davis, remember you have to tell the truth – you can’t choose Scar because she’s yours,’ D notes. He says this every Saturday but we’re actually drawing five-five, since my dad started bringing us to the pub for colouring competitions while my mum works at the hairdresser’s. I love this time with my dad; every week he surprises us with different superheroes to colour.
‘I promise I won’t, kid,’ my dad assures nervous six-year-old Devon with a hearty chuckle. ‘Are both contestants ready?’
I brace myself, my hands sweaty against the crisp white paper. D and I nod. Dad closes his eyes. ‘One, two, three, what’ve you got?’ Dad says opening them as D and I flip our papers around. I’m so pleased with my Wonder Woman colouring page. I only wobbled outside the line on one tiny bit. I hope my dad doesn’t notice.
‘Whoa, D,’ I say, looking away from my dad’s excited face to see what D has coloured in. He’s holding up an epic colouring of Captain Marvel. ‘I think D wins this week, Dad,’ I whisper turning back to my dad.
‘I might have to agree, Scar, but I think they both look fantastic and deserve a spot on the fridge,’ he replies, encouragingly.
D and I high-five.
‘I love yours too, Scar,’ D says. His cheeks are red with pride.
‘What would the winner like for a prize this week?’ my dad asks Devon. Devon looks at me and grins.
‘Ice-cream,’ he exclaims without much thought. I cheer. We both love our ice-cream.
*
The four of us are sat in mine and Devon’s old hang-out spot, the conversation is flowing, and my shoulders have relaxed more than I had intended them to this evening.
‘What else did Scarlett here get you to do?’ Hope asks, sipping her second gin with a broad grin on her face.
I sit up straight on the cosy booth seat and playfully throw a coaster at Hope. ‘We were young and stupid and this one was the bossy one – don’t let him fool you. I just couldn’t say no,’ I protest, my voice a higher octave than normal.
Hope’s face turns from amused to mischievous. I wish I had superpowers that meant I couldn’t read her mind. Her clear “I wouldn’t say no either” wink makes me sweat.
Devon has spent the last forty-five minutes regaling them with stories that make it look like he spent his childhood being forced into doing the craziest stunts and always playing the sidekick. He’s become wildly enthusiastic, engaging and attentive, asking just as many questions to both Hope and Jess as they are asking him. So much so that by the time our third round of drinks arrive, I feel I could give them all a pop quiz on where each of them grew up, family history, brothers, sisters, pets, and holidays they’ve been on.
‘I don’t believe that for a second,’ Hope says with a laugh.
I narrow my eyes, tilt my head and pucker my lips in a perfect pout. I look at Devon as if to say, “you asked for it,” as I prepare to knock him off the pedestal that Hope and Jess now have him on after the picture he has painted of me just now.
‘Devon, please tell my dear, dear friends here which one of us jumped out of a tree when they were twelve years old and fractured both their wrists?’ I say, slowly and purposefully, leaning forward and looking Devon straight in the eyes.
He smirks and shakes his head at my nerve. ‘That would have been you,’ he says, unable to stop himself from snorting.
‘And, Mr Wood, won’t you please tell my best friends here who later skated off an icy roof, landed in the concrete bowl and broke their arm and fractured their wrist again?’ I go on.
Devon matches my stance, leaning forward with his forearms on the table, his face inches from mine. Hope and Jess seemed to have stopped breathing, waiting with bated breath for Devon’s answer, as they go quiet and still.
‘That answer would also be you,’ he notes, closing his eyes when Hope gasps.
‘No way,’ Jess mutters, cringing. ‘
Ouch, Scarlett, you never told us that.’
No, I did not. Both memories were too painful to ever bring up and the pain had nothing to do with the injuries. I can’t help but laugh at mine and Devon’s idiocy and because of the pang of joy I feel at being able to share such goofy memories and important pieces of my childhood with two of my best friends.
‘And who came up with those such clever ideas?’ I add, just to really hit home.
‘Oh, are you blaming me? Are you sure it was me?’ Devon says, pointing at himself and scrunching up his face to make a silly expression.
‘Not quite the perfect poster boy now, are we?’ I tease before moving away from Devon’s face and leaning back in my seat to allow myself to breathe my own air.
‘I can’t believe you two. Your parents must have been nervous wrecks,’ Hope comments. Devon and I both shrug in unison but remain quiet. We catch each other’s eyes, and both let out a chuckle. He’s obviously on the same page as me, not wanting to discuss our parents, and for a moment that connection feels nice.
‘Oh my gosh, Devon, have you been to New York Comic Con? Have you seen the cosplay there?’ Hope asks eagerly flapping her hands about and then they’re off discussing cosplay, Jess and Hope giving detailed accounts of outfits they have worn and Devon’s eyes lighting up after hearing about every one. I swirl the ice around in my glass and can’t help but wonder if this is how it would have been throughout the past ten years had Devon not left. If the four of us would have cosplayed together.
‘I’ve been a few times, but I’ve never cosplayed. I’m ashamed to admit this movie is the first time I’ve worn spandex since I was twelve,’ Devon says shaking his head.
‘Not a bad way to start up again, mate,’ Jess notes, clinking bottles with Devon in agreement.
‘Not at all.’ Devon beams. ‘I’m terrible when it comes to designing though. Scar was the brains behind our costumes and then our mums would make them for us, after much begging.’ He laughs gently nudging his knuckles against mine, which are around the rim of my gin glass, resting on the table. I feel a slight fizz and move my hand away quickly.
Hope leans across the table and wags her finger a mere inch away from my face. I think she’s had enough gin for the night. ‘OK, since he got here, I am starting to love you more and more. No offence.’
‘None taken,’ I say with a nod.
Hope sits back down. ‘She’s always crafting and baking, but I’ve never seen her draw. I want to see these superhero costumes,’ Hope says, talking to Devon now.
Devon’s face goes from relaxed and full of laughter to bewildered, like he’s missed some form of inside joke. I ignore the straw in my glass and down the rest of my pink gin and lemonade in one long gulp.
‘I can’t believe you’ve never seen her draw. Scar draws – that’s her thing. Right, Scar?’ Devon nudges my knuckles again. His brows crease and he’s looking a little worried now, like maybe something bad happened to me, like I hit my head and am suffering from amnesia and can’t remember my childhood, when really it’s not as dramatic as that. I may have just lied and kept my drawing a secret.
‘Not this one, dude. I mean she’s crafty and can make and build anything, but we’ve never seen her draw. She’s never so much as glanced at my comic book collection, which I now have to give her credit for. That must have taken a hell of a lot of will power,’ Jess chimes in unhelpfully. I’m getting that uncomfortable knot in my stomach that occurs when Devon’s features do that thing where his bottom lip starts to stick out and his eyes go foggy. It’s like Thor in the dryer all over again. He’s upset and no doubt embarrassed that he doesn’t get the joke.
‘What are you guys chit-chatting about?’ a shrill voice cuts through my friends’ chatter.
‘Oh, nothing that concerns you,’ Jess informs Ruby.
I notice Devon shift uncomfortably in his seat. I dare not look at my enemy. Nothing Ruby ever says to me is pleasant and I’d rather her not spoil this unexpectedly happy evening.
‘You here with the girls tonight? I’m sure they’re missing you right now, but thanks for saying hello,’ Hope says turning her back to Ruby who isn’t remotely fazed by her lack of subtlety in her attempt to shoo her away. Hope’s always stuck up for me whenever we bump into Ruby and her minions. Fortunately, Ruby travels a lot with work these days so that’s not an everyday occurrence.
‘Aww, so cute,’ Ruby says, a fake smile plastered on her face when she sees Hope and Jess’s hands intertwined on the table. ‘Oh my gosh, how long has it been since you guys have seen each other?’ Ruby asks, looking at Devon and I and making her eyes wide like this is all some exciting celebration and her questions are all spontaneous, when if I know Ruby, they’re not. She’s come over here with a purpose.
‘It’s been a while.’ Devon nods.
‘No, it can’t be that long. It was only what, two years ago now that you were back here for the summer fair. We had those cheeky shots – yes, you must have seen Scarlett then I’m sure. Now I best go, but don’t you stay out late; we have a busy day tomorrow,’ she says with a wink, and a swish of her hips and a look that suggests she would devour Devon in a heartbeat if she got him alone, then she saunters off.
I can feel my nose tingling as I try and curb the tears that I feel any second now are going to spring from my eyes. I’m glad I’m in one of my own outfits tonight and not one of my mum’s tight-fitting choices as the booth suddenly feels claustrophobic. I need to go.
The atmosphere at our table has gone from joyful to tense in a matter of minutes. In my blurry vision I can see Hope looking over at me with a sad expression on her face. Even in her slightly drunken state I know she understands what’s going on. After all I confessed to her about Devon being the closest thing to me, how much his leaving hurt me and how confusing it all is with him being back. I know she didn’t miss Ruby’s comment about the summer fair. She waves at Jess urging him to move so I can get past. I nod my thanks as Devon mumbles something behind me.
How could I have let my guard down and have been so silly to let Devon, Jess and Hope get to know each other? And worse still let myself relax and actually enjoy the warm feeling in my stomach of them all getting along?
‘Thank you for a lovely evening, everyone, but I’ve got so much to do tomorrow. I’d best be off,’ I say as I stand, not wanting to make a scene.
‘Scar, can we talk?’ I hear Devon ask, but I don’t have the strength to look at him.
‘I’ve got to go,’ I reply and then turn to leave.
10
When I step outside the pub, I sense snow flurries will be upon Springhollow soon. The sky has turned a misty grey, with plumes of wispy white clouds, and there’s a peacefulness to the air, like the calm before the magic. I take quick strides in my boots as the chill seeps through my coat, clashing with the heat of my body. When I near Mr and Mrs Rolph’s bakery, I feel something tug at my coat and hear panting from behind me. My heart starts thumping in my chest, though I know everyone in Springhollow and crime is a once a year occurrence – if that – I start waving my arms manically and picking up my pace against the force. That is until I hear a groan I recognise and turn around to see Devon grabbing at my wrist.
When our eyes connect, he lets go and I stop still.
*
‘I love you, little Steve Rogers, you’re so cute. Yes, you are,’ I say, kneeling on Devon’s bed as Steve Rogers scurries around on the duvet.
D jumps onto the bed as the little hamster curls up into a ball in the middle of the cushy blanket.
‘D, careful,’ I say, watching the ball move up and down in tiny bounces.
‘He loves it, it’s like he’s flying,’ Devon tells me and so I stand up and start bouncing too.
‘Scar, who do you love more? Me or Steve Rogers?’ D asks as our jumping gets a tad crazier, but Devon’s right, the little hamster seems to like it, squealing with glee and stretching out his tiny paws.
‘I love you both the same, but I will pro
bably love you forever. I don’t think pets last that long. Autumn’s rabbit died last week, and he was only three,’ I say, matter-of-fact. Just then Devon slips on the duvet and goes flying off the side of his bed. I scream and jump down beside him.
‘D, are you OK?’ I whisper, suddenly aware that I don’t want his mum running up the stairs to check on us.
Devon lets out a grunt. ‘Ouch, yeah, I’m OK,’ he says, wiggling his toes as I check him over. ‘Scar?’
‘What?’ I reply, kneeling next to him and frantically looking around.
‘I think I love you more th…’
‘D, wait, move, move, move. I think your squashing Steve Rogers,’ I interrupt panicking and fearing for the little guy’s life when I don’t see him anywhere on the bed.
*
If I knew one thing when I was a young, naïve twelve-year-old, I knew I loved Devon – at least in the same way I loved a hamster. I trusted him. I liked spending time with him. He made me laugh and looked after me and I did the same for him. He was always there when I needed him and always stood up for me when Ruby and her gang called me names. He was cool and liked awesome stuff and unlike my mum – who didn’t quite get why it was so important to add wings to my skateboard – Devon never questioned my antics or ideas; he joined in and helped me bring them to life.
The thing is I must stop pretending I am twelve years old; romanticising the past with the belief that it can somehow be my future. I’m angry with myself for being so stupid and mad that all these years later Devon can still hurt me like this. I need to put an end to all of this now. Despite what my twelve-year-old self assumed, I can’t love him forever.
Devon goes to speak but I cut him off. ‘Don’t you dare,’ I start. The words come out hard but contained. ‘So, what, you turn up at my door this morning having a go at me for acting strange, blaming me for not writing to you; like I was the one who ruined it all? You came here two years ago, and you didn’t think to say hi? To check in? You had all the time in the world for Ruby, but your supposed best friend wasn’t worth a visit? I don’t want to hear it, Devon. I’ve managed fine without you for the past ten years. Please just leave me alone.’ I sigh a heavy sigh as the words lift off my chest. I pull my coat tighter around my body, aware now that my skin is no longer hot and sweaty but icy and stiff. In our time apart we’ve managed to build a web of resentment and more lies; it’s no good for either of us.