by Stuart Boyd
***
The palace courtyard that Stella had originally transported into was the venue for the feast. She assumed that the dress fitting had made her late because everybody else seemed to have got there before her. As she stepped between the spiralled columns, the feasting crowd gave a large roar.
“Hurray for Stella! Hurray for the Key Holder!” they shouted.
Stella felt embarrassed about the applause and tried to spy out her companions. Large amounts of scaffolding had been put up as tables and chairs, to accommodate the aliens, and judging by the piles of buns and cakes on platters, Stella was sure that the Telallamorphs must have emptied their food stores. Helix and Fawcus had been brought from the hospital to attend, and even the Vanga tour party were given a whole table for themselves. They were behaving as if this was all part of the holiday and enjoying themselves immensely. The king’s throne was placed next to Doctor Dodds’s place on the table, and they were both deeply engaged in conversation. But there was an empty seat next to Tom.
“I saved you a place,” Tom said to Stella. Doctor Dodds had obviously lent Tom the use of his maroon jacket to cover his torn shirt. It was overlarge for him, and the sleeves kept slipping over his hands.
“I didn’t know whether you’d want to sit next to me. You don’t like to at school, I know…”
“This isn’t school,” Stella reminded him.
Tom looked around him. A set of acrobatic Telallamorphs were turning themselves into different shapes. “I guess it isn’t. I can’t imagine this going on in the canteen?”
“It depends. I might call down Grandas if anybody calls me Smella Stella again.”
“That would certainly be a surprise for Shane Biggs,” Tom said, with a laugh.
They sat for a while in an awkward silence, until Tom eventually said, “Look. I know I was stupid, and I put you all in loads of danger…”
“Yes, you were stupid. You did put us all in danger.” Stella recalled an image at the Doom Gate of Tom standing between her crystal and the Greddylick. “But then you did your best to put it right.”
“So… so you forgive me?”
Stella gave a sigh. “Are you sorry?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to do it again?”
“No.”
“Good, because I don’t know who else is going to save me a seat in the canteen,” Stella said, giving Tom a smile.
Another late arrival bobbed into view. It was Wendell. He had found himself a new balloon, but this one seemed to have a metallic glint to it. He whizzed over to Stella and Tom, obviously very pleased with himself.
“Do you like my new suit?” Wendell crowed. “It’s made out of that Morphplaster stuff. Look, it’s really strong.” Wendell stretched himself out, so he appeared almost flat. “Apparently it’s heat resistant too.”