by Harry Cook
I look around before checking my phone again. 6:12 p.m.
At which point, it rings and Elliot’s face appears on the screen.
“Hey.”
“What’s up?”
“Fin, I need to talk to you.”
“Um . . . Now’s probably not the best time,” I say, kicking my shoe into the dust.
“No, I know. I know. I’m not going to come and ambush you or anything. I just want to know what the hell changed while I was away.”
I scratch my nose. “Mum’s the same. Dad’s just . . . Dad.” I take a breath in. “I dunno.”
“Fin, Mum told me what happened in Pittford.”
I feel like I could throw up. I don’t bother saying anything. I stand and wait for him to grill me.
“I’m so sorry, Fin,” he says. His voice is quieter than it has been. Quieter than I’ve heard it in a really long time.
My mouth feels dry and tears well up. “El, it’s . . . You don’t need to be so –”
“No, actually I do,” he says, as I try to hold it together, attracting a funny look from Warren for my efforts.
“I always knew Dad could kick off about stuff like this. He’s so strict and traditional when he wants to be, but honestly I never imagined . . . I never thought he’d be like this when you told him.”
“I guess I just –” I start. Then “Wait, what do you mean, when? Did you already know?” His words are falling into place more quickly than my brain can process them.
The line goes quiet.
“Fin, I’ve kinda known since you were a kid.”
What?
Have I always been this secret problem they’ve all been prepped to deal with? Waiting for an announcement so something could be done about it? So they could address the issue that is me? Is that what my whole life has been up until this point?
“I can’t believe you,” I say. I don’t even know why I’m so angry at him but I am and it’s an anger that’s red hot and boiling.
“I had an inkling, Fin, but I wanted you to feel safe enough to be able to tell us one day. I never expected Dad to do any of this. When Mum told me, I lost it. I’ve always wanted to be there for you when –”
“Stop. Okay? You don’t get to be the older brother hero right now. You went travelling and left me here to deal with all this. I mean, fuck. They MOVED us to a new town – and all I’d done was tell them the truth!”
There’s a headache pressing behind my eyes and I’m shaking, but I keep going.
“What were you hoping would happen, Elliot? When has Dad EVER shown any kind of sign that he would be okay with anything like this?”
“Dad’s just scared and doesn’t understand. He’s spent his whole life trying to fit some idea of what’s ‘normal’ and he doesn’t know –”
“You’re dead right there!” I yell. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me? You heard Dad this morning. That bullshit ‘Making a Responsible Man’ workshop? What the hell?”
Elliot breathes slowly on the end of the line. “Fin, I’ve been talking to Mum. She sees how irrational Dad’s being, but I think she feels she needs to support him. All his reactions are grounded in some old-school take on the world, when what he’s really afraid of is what this will mean for you and for us – as a family.” He pauses. “But, you know, it’s bullshit. Fuck all that.”
I choke out a laugh. Elliot almost never swears.
“Look, I hate that I wasn’t there when this all kicked off, okay? I never meant for that to happen. I never in a million years expected Mum and Dad to behave like they have.”
His words sink in and I feel my heart calm. I wipe my upper lip with the back of my hand and catch the few tears that have escaped my eyes.
“I have to go,” I say, exhaling a long breath.
“Okay,” Elliot says. “I’m here now, Fin. Okay? That should count for something.”
“It does. Love you, bro.” And I hear the echo of my words in his, too.
We hang up.
Warren stares over at me with a mix of pity and confusion. I give him my best yeah? what? shrug, then turn towards the candy-floss stall.
I see Rye, Poppy and June heading past the Ferris Wheel and towards me.
I sniff and wipe my eyes with my sleeve once more for good measure.
“Hey, man!” Poppy calls.
I hug her and June, and then Rye and I do this awkward handshake which also turns into a hug that leaves us both blushing. June and Poppy obviously find the whole thing hilarious.
“Are you two done being weird?” Poppy says.
June gives her a nudge. “I like your shirt, Fin,” she says.
“Thanks.” I smooth down the material and smile as Rye looks over at me.
“What should we go on first?” June asks, taking some chewing gum out of her bag and giving us all a piece each.
“Ghost Train. Let’s get that the hell out of the way,” Rye says and for a second I catch a genuinely terrified look in his eyes.
“Nooooo. I need at least two laps on the Ferris Wheel before I can convince myself that the Ghost Train is a good idea,” Poppy says as we all troop towards the counter and buy our unlimited rides wristbands.
We get to the front of the line straight away because there’s only about fifteen other people who are at the fair so early.
At the Ferris Wheel, we shuffle in and sit in the pod as it starts its first slow and steady loop. Rye sits next to me and I’m immediately aware of how close he is. Our legs are touching and if you didn’t know us, you’d think we were a thing.
Are we a thing?
Poppy and June snuggle up together opposite us and my heart melts. They radiate love when they’re happy like this. I look over at Rye and he gives me a smile which I save, print and file away in my mind.
After a few Ferris Wheel loops, we get off and smash out the Rotary (a spinning monstrosity that glues you to the wall as it spins while the floor disappears, sticking you to the side like flies to crap), the Dodgems, followed by a few goes on the Win-A-Prize Basketball Game, which I lose at more than once.
We make our way towards the Ghost Train and I see Rye’s shoulders clench up. It’s made to look like a creepy old house and the “train” part of it is a straight-up lie because you actually just walk through the various rooms.
We get to the entrance and our “tour guide” greets us. She’s wearing a long Dracula cape and plastic fangs as fake blood drips from her mouth.
“Velcome to zee house of ’orrors,” she says.
“Is she trying to be French? Or Dracula?” I whisper to Rye who nudges me and giggles.
We are instructed to all form a single file and hold the person in front by the waist. We do as we are told and Rye stands in front. He looks back and gives me a grin and, as I place my hands gently on his hips, a warm tingle spreads through me.
“Follow meeee,” our guide says. “AND BEVARE OF ZE ZOMBIES!”
“Seriously, is that meant to be French?” I whisper again in Rye’s ear.
He scoffs and looks back at me and our faces are closer than they’ve ever been before. He smiles again but, even in the dark, I see his cheeks blush and my heartbeat goes into overdrive at our sudden intimacy.
We make our way through room after room filled with zombies that jump through windows, vampires that burst through closets and axe murderers who appear out of nowhere. I have to admit, it’s actually kind of intense.
We’re all pretty stoked to get out of there by the final room. But Poppy and June seem to have been more interested in watching Rye and me so close together.
“I think we’re going to head home,” June says with this cheeky little smile that’s a new one on me.
“Okay, no worries,” Rye says, with a matching cheeky smile.
“You two have fun, yeah?” Poppy says, adding a wink.
They leave and it’s just me and Rye. I feel at once both shy and excited.
The sun has completely disappeared and all that’s left is
the fluorescent lights from the rides and the thousands of bulb lights that are strung across the field.
“Fancy walking home with me?” Rye says, looking seemingly everywhere but at me.
My whole body gravitates towards him and I have this undeniable urge to take his face in my hands and kiss him. But instead, I say, “Yeah, I’d love that.”
As we walk towards home, Rye plays some music on his phone. His playlist starts with the Eagles, followed by some soulful Sam Cooke and Etta James.
“You like the oldies, huh?” I ask.
“Oldies? I think you mean the ‘greats’,” Rye says with a smile. “Mum brought me up right. We’ve listened to vinyls for as long as I can remember.”
We carry on walking but don’t talk. We just listen to the music. Occasionally our hands brush each other and we both step apart a bit before finding our way back to the middle again.
A song by Bleachers comes on and Rye starts singing along.
“I said la la la la la la la . . .”
With a rock-star attitude, he plays pretend drums with some twigs he’s just found on the ground. He’s effortlessly cool. Whereas my heart is busy now on a series of somersaults.
“You know, I never got to thank you properly,” Rye says, turning the music down and looking over at me. “For yesterday.”
“You did. You’ve thanked me more than enough. Which was unnecessary,” I tell him.
“No, I’m serious, Fin.” He stops and turns to me. “What you did was . . . It was so sweet. You’re a real great guy.”
I stare at him, doing my best to stop a huge grin from spreading all over my face.
“You’re pretty decent too,” I say.
We catch each other’s eyes for longer than a beat before starting to walk again, Rye’s music coming back a bit louder than before.
We’re at the turn off between Kettle Lake and the road to either our houses or into town when Rye grabs my hand and leads us through the shrubbery towards his spot. The crickets scatter underneath our feet as we crunch over branches and leaves, finally getting to Rye’s little cove.
“I’m sorry,” Rye says, getting comfy on the floor and patting the ground next to him. “I just wanted you to see this.”
I hesitate and then sit down next to him; I don’t realise how close we are until the musky fragrance of his cologne wafts over me.
“Look,” Rye says, motioning in front of him and smiling like it’s the first day of summer.
I glance up and the entire lake is bursting with light. Hundreds of fireflies dance through the reeds, along the surface of the water and into the shrubbery.
“This is amazing,” I say, bewitched by the magic unfolding in front of us.
I sense the movement of Rye’s body as he turns towards me, clearly no longer focused on the fireflies.
We lock eyes and my body does this thing where it’s like a thousand currents of electricity shoot through each atom of my flesh. I look at his smooth dark skin, his almond eyes, his big beautiful smile and I’m overwhelmed with the want to kiss him.
He smiles shyly but doesn’t break eye contact. Neither do I. I don’t want to. I want him to know how amazing he is. I want him to know that he’s worth every firefly in this whole damn lake.
My body is alive, tingling.
The crickets click in unison and I lean towards him, aware of every tiny movement I’m making. He smiles again, a simple, genuine smile, which turns to soft laughter as he also moves closer.
The gap of air between our bodies get smaller. But instead of the kiss I’d been longing for, I realise that Rye’s hands are on me and he’s . . .
What?
Pulling me to my feet – and before I know it we’re running, splashing, into the shallow blue waves at the shore of the lake.
24
Rye
First thing the next morning, I’m sitting opposite Poppy in McElroy’s Fish & Chippie, nursing a cup of chai latte. They are probably the only fish and chip shop in the world with chai on the menu. I’m here for it. Poppy’s busy eating yoghurt – an off-menu choice – and her preferred method consists of dipping her finger in it and licking it off.
“When he . . . I just . . . I don’t know . . . I felt something happen inside and –”
“Like diarrhoea?” Poppy asks, matter of factly.
I stare at her for a second then burst into laughter.
“No, Poppy. Not diarrhoea.”
She shrugs.
“Also, do you want me to get you a spoon? You look like a gremlin.”
Poppy smiles and lets the yoghurt seep through the gaps in her teeth.
“Gross,” I say, taking a sip of my chai.
“You’re gross,” Poppy says. Then, going straight for the jugular: “So, you like Fin, then?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Maybe.”
Once Poppy finishes her yoghurt, we grab our bags and leave for school. The weather is fresh and sunny and everything smells like cut grass and saltwater. I love days like this.
When we arrive, June is waiting at the entrance and we link arms together through A-block. I make a beeline for Fin’s locker, thinking I’ll catch him there before class but when I get there he’s nowhere to be seen. I check my phone again but nothing. He hasn’t been online either.
The day drags on, and I cannot get him out of my head. I check my phone a million times a minute, but not a peep. I feel myself obsessing and so instead I head to the track at lunch and run laps. It’s something I actually enjoy. Running seems to calm my mind (and hurt my calves, but whatever).
June and Poppy meet me at my locker before fifth period and I spot straight away that June has a look of concern plastered on her face.
“Rye, are you okay?” she says.
“Mmhmm,” I say, grabbing my science textbook and chewing a hangnail on my thumb. “Sweaty, but okay.”
“Rye, c’mon. The whole Eric and Fin thing must be a lot to deal with right now,” Poppy says, half a smile, half a look of pity on her face.
“Uh-uh, I’m fine,” I say. Even I don’t believe me. “Okay. Not fine. Have either of you heard from Fin?” I say, sounding more desperate than I intended.
They both shake their heads no and my shoulders slump.
“Hey,” Poppy calls, as I turn to go to my science class. “Meet here after last period. We’ll go see where he’s been all day.”
*
The final bell rings and I practically throw myself through the door towards my locker. Poppy and June are waiting with expressions on their faces that I can’t quite read, but I’m hoping mean they think going to Fin’s house is as great an idea as I do.
As we climb into Poppy’s car and head off, I have this uncomfortable feeling in my tummy like I know I shouldn’t be ambushing Fin like this – the last time we turned up at his was so weird – but it’s countered by a stronger urge to see him. Since last night, I haven’t been able to get him out of my head
We turn left onto Crescent Boulevard and right up Fin’s street and June turns around to face me.
“Okay, what’s your game plan?” she asks.
“My what?
“Game plan. What are you going to say to him?”
“Um. ‘Hey, Fin, why weren’t you at school?’” I say, shrugging.
“Smooth, Rye.” June rolls her eyes playfully.
“Real smooth,” Poppy adds, turning the ignition off and turning to face me as well.
“So, you like him, yeah?” Poppy continues.
“I guess. Is it weird? That I do?”
“Why would it be weird?” June asks.
“I dunno. Eric and I were –”
“Rye, don’t go there,” Poppy says. “You have every right to be all gooey about Fin. Don’t even think about Eric. He’s the president of the ass-hat society.”
She’s not wrong about that.
“Do you want us to come with you?” June asks.
“No, it’s okay,” I say. Then: “Actually, yeah.”
They share a knowing look. And then we’re walking in a line up Fin’s path to his front door. There’s a car in the drive and a light on upstairs so I’m certain someone’s home.
“Maybe we should just leave it,” I say, my anxiety kicking in big time, my heart pounding.
“Don’t be dumb,” Poppy says.
“Wait, Pops. Is that what you want, Rye?” June asks, a look of genuine concern in her eyes.
I go to say something but decide against it. “No. No, I’m being stupid,” I tell them.
I knock a few times on the door and wait, my forehead breaking out into a waterfall of sweat.
“Relax,” Poppy says and adds, “Chill, man,” with a giggle under her breath.
The silence that follows my knocks seems to last a year. Finally, a door shuts somewhere inside, and the creak of stairs lets us know that someone’s on their way.
The door swings open and I realise I haven’t taken a breath in a really long time. I inhale and exhale slowly as a guy who looks like Fin, only older, stands holding the door open with one hand and a protein bar in the other.
“H-hi,” I say, looking at him and then into the giant interior of the house behind him.
“Hey, dude,” he says. “Elliot.” And he stuffs the bar in his pocket, then holds his hand out, which we all shake one by one.
“I’m . . . We’re friends of Fin from school. We were just wondering if he was home?” I say, my voice sounding oddly unfamiliar.
Elliot goes to say something but before any words leave his mouth, a man is standing beside him. He has the same eyes as both Fin and Elliot – obviously their dad.
“Evening,” the man says.
“Hi, Mr Whittle,” Poppy says, stepping up like a badass. “My name’s Poppy and –”
“Poppy?” he says. “So great to finally meet you.”
We all give one another a puzzled look as Mr Whittle extends his hand to Poppy and only Poppy.
She shakes it with a half-smile. “Hi,” she says.
“Fin’s told us all so much about you,” Mr Whittle says.
“Well, that’s sweet,” Poppy replies, with a laugh. “I am kind of amazing I guess.”