Nadiya just blinks at me. She has a very expressive face, Nadiya.
I jump down from the table – it’s more of an elegant fall really, but who’s checking? – and drag myself along the corridor. A couple of the event rooms are along the way, their doors standing open – and there, right through the windows, is the castle perched up on its hill. Last year, one of the panel moderators actually asked if we could close the blinds in their event room, because everyone was too busy staring at the castle illuminated against the dusk to actually watch the panellists…
Suddenly, I feel a pang of jealousy. I don’t want to share this – let alone with a stranger. A replacement me. I’ve always known how much I love all this, how much it matters to me…but I’ve never actually thought about how much I’d miss it if I stopped.
I’d miss the corridors, the running (so much running!). I’d miss the ever-changing wallpaper of hotels – but maybe not the hotels’ wallpaper. I’d miss Bede’s moaning and Nadiya’s frowns and even the late nights – and that particular, breathless silence of the ops room before breakfast. I’d even miss the inevitable, infamous “rubber chicken” of the banquets. Probably.
I’d miss this world, because it’s mine.
Everything else feels like I have to share it, but this…even though there are hundreds of other people here, most of them know exactly who I am. This is my place, my home, my family.
It’s mine.
It’s me.
But maybe it doesn’t have to be all of me?
Behind the frosted glass of the ops room door, I can see figures moving around – and given how many people are in there, it must be one hell of a crisis.
Right, then. Brace yourself.
I shoulder the door open – and there’s Dad and Sam. Both of them look serious.
And then they step apart, and behind them is a suntanned face and a mop of black hair that’s even curlier and less under control than it was last time I saw it.
Aidan.
“You’re here!”
Well done, Lexi. Always good to state the obvious in case people haven’t noticed…
“I said I’d be at this one, didn’t I?”
“But…not till tomorrow!”
“I came up early.” He grins and slips out from between Dad and Sam and pulls me into a hug – and there’s the smell of him, the smell I’ve missed so badly late at night that it’s hurt, and I realize that for weeks all I’ve wanted to do is touch him; feel the warmth of his skin under my fingers, run my hands through his hair, breathe him in, drown in him.
About those photos, whispers a voice in my head. I ignore it. Later. It’s waited this long, and now he’s here…
Dad taps his cane against the floor, and I pull away, embarrassed, and look up into Aidan’s eyes.
They are all I can see.
“You, umm, didn’t come up by train, did you?”
“No. Are you crazy – why would I do that?”
“Oh, no reason.” All my concentration is spent on not reaching for him again, not drawing closer and closer until our edges blur and we overlap. So I could be saying anything. I probably am.
Pay attention, Lexi.
“You need to come get your lanyard. I didn’t bring it with me because I didn’t know you were here because if I’d known you were here I would have brought it but I didn’t so you really need to come get it.”
Yes, Lexi. That’s so much better. Bravo.
Is it hot in here all of a sudden, or is it me?
Aidan actually has the nerve to look smug as he yanks the membership lanyard out from under his shirt. “This lanyard, you mean?”
Sam shuffles her feet. “Sorry. That was me – I knew he was coming up early so I snuck it out of the box. You might want to, umm, tick it off your list?”
No wonder she’s been avoiding me all day. I thought I’d done something to upset her…but it turns out she just remembered how awful she is at keeping anything a secret. And she thinks I’m annoyed with her for actually managing to.
I pull away from Aidan and hug my best friend, feeling her relax as I do.
“So…you’re not pissed off?”
“Why would I be? It’s an amazing surprise! I didn’t think he would—”
“Not Aidan. Obviously. I meant me messing up the membership box. I was only going to take his lanyard out, but then I had the box resting on the back of the chair and Bede—”
“Wait. Messing up the membership box?”
“I dropped it. I thought you’d realized…” She slips out of my grasp, safely out of reach.
“You. Dropped. It.”
“And then you were coming right round the corner so I kind of shoved all the envelopes back in really quickly, and I think they’re a bit…jumbled?” Her voice gets quieter and smaller with every word.
“I left Nadiya on her own at reg.”
Sam’s wide eyes meet mine, and she says it at exactly the same time I do.
“Shit.”
When we round the corner back to the registration desk, the membership queue stretches all the way to the hotel’s front door.
“You.” I point at Sam. “Fix this.”
She nods meekly and slides behind the table alongside Nadiya – barely even flinching when Nadiya cuffs her around the back of the head.
The day slips away, time stretching and concertinaing like it does at every convention, and instead of heading to one of the parties in the evening, we all collapse into a booth in the hotel bar – where Bede takes it upon himself to induct Aidan into the world of convention staff, even though I’ve repeatedly asked him to shut up.
“What you see before you, Aidan, is a perfect cross section of your typical late-night convention tribes.” Bede, standing on the red velvet seat of the booth, waves an arm around the bar. “Most of the membership are either in the late-night panels they have paid to attend – or in bed, because they’re losers. These? These are the convention hardcore.”
“Bede!” I yank him back down to a sitting position. “Shhh. You’ll annoy everyone!”
“No, I want to hear this,” Aidan laughs, looking around the bar. “Go on?”
Bede gives a grin of triumph as Sam groans, Nadiya puts her head on the table and I pretend I’m very busy checking emails. If I protest any more it’ll only encourage him. He pokes his head up over the top of the booth and nods at the table closest to the door. “Over there, in the black T-shirts? With the beards? Those are the Old-Timey Sci-Fi Bros. They don’t go to any of the panels or readings because they hate all the programming – but they’ve been to every convention since the Stone Age and they’re not about to break the habit of a lifetime. They only read science fiction by dead white dudes – bonus points if said dead dudes hated women and were a little bit racist.”
“A little bit?” chorus Sam and Nadiya.
Now it’s Bede’s turn to shush them – mostly because several of the group he was just describing have turned to look at him. He ducks right down again.
“Okay, so that’s one,” says Aidan. “What about them?” He points to a smaller table, this one surrounded by people tapping away on their phones.
“Easy. Agents.”
“And that one?” Another, near-identical table a few metres away.
“Oh, they’re the Hollywood lot.”
“But they look just like the agents!”
“Nope.” Bede shakes his head. “Look closer, youngling. The agents – as you will see – have a variety of empty cocktail glasses on their table. The Hollywooders? Mineral water.”
Aidan snorts into his drink. I elbow him sharply in the ribs and he pulls a face of mock-indignation. “What? It’s funny because it’s true.”
There’s a shriek of laughter from a lively table near the bar. “The YA writers,” Bede says with a knowing look. “And that massive group over there?” He indicates a table littered with empty wine bottles, so completely surrounded by chairs that anyone trying to get in or out is having to climb over ev
eryone else. “They’re the crime and horror writers. Nice bunch. Make me nervous, though – how can anybody who writes stuff like that be a well-adjusted human being?” We all turn to watch as a tall blonde woman clambers out from the middle of the group, laughing. “Nope. I don’t trust them at all.”
“And what about them? The ones next to the staff table?”
“How do you know that’s the staff table?” Bede asks.
Aidan shrugs. “They all look knackered.”
“He’s lying,” I say to the others with a laugh. “Although it’s a pretty good rule of thumb that con staff always look knackered. But actually he can see my dad in the middle.”
Aidan sighs dramatically. “Thanks, Lexi. There goes my reputation as someone with a keenly observant eye.”
“You had one of those?”
“Reputation, or keenly observant eye?”
I’m about to snap back with a witty answer, but Bede’s started making fake retching sounds so I let it go.
“They’re the newbies. First time at a convention,” I say, looking over at the little group of members clustered around the small table. “They don’t know many people yet, so they kind of gravitate towards each other. Usually they’ll end up sticking together.” I stand up and wave at them. Two of them look over at me and smile back, while the others just look terrified. “Do you want to come over here?” I call. “There’s loads of room!” I point at the booth. Bede immediately, magically, expands to take up twice as much room as he normally does. Sam pokes him in the side of the neck, and Nadiya groans from face down on the table. “Not more people. No more people.”
Most of the newbies head our way, bringing their drinks with them. Two obviously decide that a table of slightly grouchy convention staff is not their idea of fun and wander off towards tonight’s big event – the film-soundtrack karaoke party we’re studiously avoiding – but the others shuffle into the spare seats in the booth and pull up chairs and smile at each other and at us.
“So, how’s your convention going?” I ask. Nadiya makes a noise that sounds a little like a sob. “Ignore her,” I add.
Our new-found friends are called Jen, Jenny, Amanda and Mandy (and as they introduce themselves I can almost hear the cogs in Aidan’s writer-brain starting to turn) and Craig and Daragh – two best friends who’ve come from Dublin especially for the convention. They introduce themselves and talk about what panels they’re seeing, and Daragh gets into a fact-off about pineapples – of all things – with Bede. (“Did you know that pineapples are traditionally served with ham because there’s an acid in them that dissolves meat? So when you eat pineapple, that tingling feeling on your tongue is the pineapple eating you back?” “And did you know that…” And on we go…) But Craig can’t seem to take his eyes off Aidan. This is fine – until Aidan notices.
“Hey there,” he says with a slightly uncomfortable smile.
Craig doesn’t say anything, but just keeps on staring.
“So…are you going to the Halloween ball thing tomorrow night? It, umm, looks fun, right?” Aidan mouths the words “Help me” at me. I smile and shake my head and am suddenly deeply interested in hearing Daragh explain how people used to rent pineapples for dinner parties.
And then, at long last, Craig speaks.
“You’re…”
Uh-oh.
“You’re Haydn Swift!”
“I am.”
“Would you sign my arm?” Craig pulls out a marker pen and starts rolling up the sleeve of the shirt he’s wearing.
Aidan shakes his head apologetically. “Sorry – I don’t really sign people, but if you… Oh.” He stops so suddenly that everyone – me, Sam, Bede, Nadiya and all the newbies – turn to see why.
Craig has rolled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo of Aidan’s face on his arm. At least, I think it’s supposed to be Aidan – it’s a little lopsided and slightly squished. What makes me certain is when I recognize it as a copy of his head and shoulders from the notorious Glowy Ball photo shoot.
“Huh,” says Aidan in a high-pitched voice, while Bede is suddenly overwhelmed by a coughing fit.
“I was hoping if you signed underneath…?” Craig says hopefully, but Aidan shakes his head.
“Sorry. I’m not trying to be a dick, I just…you know?” Seeing how crestfallen Craig looks, he adds: “But if you’ve got anything else you want me to sign, I’m really happy to. As long as it’s not you, that’s all.”
“My copy of Piecekeepers is in my room – can I?”
“Sure. I’ll be right here.” Aidan’s smile is genuine and warm. As Craig pushes his chair back to go fetch his book, Aidan points to his arm. “And you know, that’s really cool. I’m honoured.”
Craig beams and hurries off.
The Jen-Jennys take this as their opportunity to say goodnight, while Mandy and Amanda murmur something about the karaoke. All four of them leave, while Bede is too busy flirting with Daragh to notice anything. Aidan slides closer to me.
“That was…quite a thing,” he says. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“He has your face tattooed on his arm. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“Oh really?” He raises an eyebrow. “You think you should get a say in where my face goes?”
I feel the blood rush to my face. “Stop it. He’s coming back.”
Craig is indeed back, holding out a dog-eared copy of Piecekeepers. “I’ve read it five times already,” he says proudly.
Aidan takes it from him and opens it out on the title page to sign. “You should talk to Lexi here. It sounds like you know it even better than she does. Am I making this out to you, or…?”
As Craig gives him detailed instructions on what to write (“Just to me – not, you know, ‘me’, but Craig – just Craig – only without the just”) I see part of myself in him. Admittedly, without the someone-else’s-face tattooed on my arm, but I see me, back in the spring. Reading that book, feeling like whoever wrote it had done it just for me, like it was the world I was meant to be in.
Craig feels the same way, and there’s something magical about that. He’s not stealing it from me, and nor is anyone else – how could they? It’s as much theirs as it is mine. We’re all part of Haydn’s little tribe.
And that’s when I realize: I will always have to share Haydn. Haydn goes on trips to Italy and Detroit and gets onstage and smiles and laughs and answers questions and signs copies of his books and has his photo taken. It’s Haydn that people approach in hotel bars and say “You’re Haydn Swift!” to.
Haydn, not Aidan.
It was Aidan, not Haydn, building towers out of pistachio shells under a table.
Aidan, not Haydn, sliding down a corridor on a tray and laughing.
Aidan, not Haydn, who makes me feel like the floor has tilted under me; like the world has tilted under me.
Aidan I get all to myself.
And I think that just maybe we are our own tribe.
“Who’s the extra seat for?” Nadiya nods at the empty place setting at the breakfast table while she loads her plate up with toast.
“Oi! Leave some for the rest of us.” Bede makes a snatch for the top slice and she smacks his fingers with a teaspoon.
“Keep your grubby little mitts to yourself,” she says. “I know where those hands have been.”
“Re-taping the microphone leads in panel room two, that’s where they’ve been,” he snaps back, waggling his fingers at her. She rolls her eyes and throws the piece of toast at him.
“Actually,” Dad says, far too loudly, “I thought that Lexi might want a place for Aidan…”
The whole table – my friends, most of their parents and even bloody Rodney, sitting at the far end – all look at me and make “Oooooooooooh!” noises.
“Another convention couple,” says Mike. “Just like Marie and Paul.”
I stare at Marie, who is smiling at Paul beside her. “You two met at a convention?”
“Yep. And went to anot
her one for our honeymoon.”
“Some people don’t need the Seychelles,” says Paul, peering down the table at Dad.
Dad nods. “And some people want their honeymoon to be peaceful,” he mutters, and prods his breakfast. “Passes the sausage test.”
“But enough about your honeymoon…” Bede chimes in.
This time, I throw the toast at him.
And this is what Aidan walks in on: all of us, in full convention-breakfast flow.
“Don’t ask,” I say, pulling back his chair for him.
I’m running through the to-do list as we finish breakfast. “Sam, can you go and check we’ve got all the leads from the karaoke machine back in the ops room? It needs to be returned to the rental place this afternoon and they’ll charge us from the deposit if we lose any of the cables.”
Captain America nods at me as she finishes her tea. “Sure thing.”
“And when you’ve done that—”
“I know, I know. Put the mic stand back in reading room two. I have done this before.”
“You have?”
“Oh, my sides.” She puts her hands on her waist. “Oh, wait. Not even slightly splitting.” And then she blows me a kiss and wanders off towards the ops room – right as the Brother walks in and makes a beeline for our table. But it’s not Dad he goes for – oh no. It’s Aidan.
“Mr Swift.”
Aidan swivels in his seat to look up at him, his mouth still full of scrambled egg. “Mmmpffhhy?”
“Damien – we spoke briefly while you were in Detroit?”
“Oh, wow. Yes.” He gulps down the egg. “Good to see you again.”
The Brother has come to mark his territory.
(And Detroit? Really? The Brother kept that little gem to himself, didn’t he?)
I’ll be civil. “Hello again, Damien.”
“Hey there, Laura.”
“Lexi.”
“Lexi?”
“Lexi. Not Laura. My name’s Lexi.”
“I don’t…?”
“You always call me Laura, but it’s Lexi.”
“Oh. Oh, sure.”
There’s a pause, and I raise an eyebrow at Aidan, mouthing “Detroit?” at him. He looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole.
Unconventional Page 25