Page 61 of Tilly in Technicolor
I walk for a few minutes through Stockholm’s cobbled streets. Although it’s overcast, the city has a cheerful radiance about it—the intricate stonework of historical buildings, the sleek and modern high-rises that reflect the city back to itself, bicycles and tulips and the river—and I absorb all the small details like sunlight on my skin.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I fish it out and see it’s a text from Darcy.
Hello, darling! How are you??
I grin. Darcy and I have texted a few times since meeting in Copenhagen, and I like to think we’ve actually become friends.
Hi!! I’m good! How are you? What city are you in?
Some shithole town outside of Frankfurt
Pray for me
But listen, I wanted to talk to you about something
Mind if I ring you?
Half a second after I message sure, Darcy’s call comes through.
“Right,” she says by way of greeting. My grin grows wider. “Cubby’s here, too.”
“Hiya, Tilly,” Cubby croons in the background.
“We’ve been reading your Babble posts—truly brilliant by the way, you constantly have us in stitches.”
“Very clever,” Cubby adds.
“And yesterday after a show, we got to talking with this other band—”
“They were a bit too poppy for my taste,” Cubby says.
“Oh, yes. Far too much synth. This isn’t 2014.”
“And they tried to make a bagpipe moment happen and, like, artistically do I understand the carnal magnetism they were going for with it? Yes. Was it raw and did it create cognitive dissonance that reflected the political climate when juxtaposed with the pop-synth beats? Of course. But, did it work?”
“No,” Darcy finishes. “But anyway, lovely people despite their confused sound. And we got to talking and long story short, one of the girls in the band, Hamda, has a cousin that runs this super trendy online magazine—”
“I thought it was Hamda’s cousin’s friend?” Cubby asks.
“Mmm no. Definitely the cousin.”
“You sure?”
At this point, my head is spinning as I try to keep pace with these two, but it’s a lost cause.
“Regardless of whose cousin or friend or whatever, Hamda knows the person runningIvy.”
“Apparently it’s likeCosmomeetsBuzzFeedwith a touch ofElite Dailybut less desperately millennial,” Cubby says.
“And they’rehiring,” Darcy says. “Looking to hire, quote, unique voices, unquote.” There’s a pause. “So what do you think?”
I’m silent, assuming Cubby and Darcy are going to continue talking over each other, but they don’t.
“Think about what?” I ask.
“Aboutapplying,of course,” Darcy says. “We showedHamda your Babble and she thought it was fabulous. Apparently her cousin has ADHD, too. We gave Hamda the link and she sent it to her cousin who said that you should send in your CV and some sample writing.”
My stomach pinches. It’s that rush again. Of knowing people are absorbing something I’ve created.
