Page 105 of Sad Girl Hours
“Nell made the shortlist?” Jenna asks for me, looking delighted.
“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Becks says, eyes dancing with barely concealed glee. “All I can say is make sure you keep an eye on your emails.”
Jenna punches me in the arm. “Fuck, yeah, bitch, you did it! I knew you would!”
“Wow,” is all I manage to say. “I can’t believe it.”
“You should,” Becks says, more earnest now. “I loved your collection, Nell. The way you combined the themes of seasons changing and the flux of sexuality, ending on the uncertainty butalso clarity of the New Year – beautifully done, truly. I knew you’d be working up to something good.”
Ididn’t. I submitted it two hours before the deadline a few days ago, in a major lack-of-Saffron-induced funk. I am proud of it, though. I’d never have phrased it quite as pretentiously as Becks just did, but I put a lot into it. It’s exciting that it paid off, even if it doesn’t get any further than the shortlist. I just wish I could tell Saffron. She’s the one that inspired a lot of the poems. All I want to do is run and find her and see her light up for me when I share the news.
But I don’t know for sure where she is. Or if she’d even want to see me. I don’t even know if I could face seeing her yet, not without knowing where we stand first.
“I’ll leave you to get on with your day,” Becks is saying. “I just wanted to tell you the news. The news that I will vehemently deny sharing if it comes to it,” she adds with mock sternness. I force a laugh and wave goodbye as she heads up the street.
“You made the shortlist, bitch!” Jenna always gets swearier when she’s happy. “I’m so proud – my best friend is an award-winning poet.”
“I’ve not won. I’ve just been shortlisted.”
“No, but you’re definitelygoingto win. This is just a formality on the way to it.”
I roll my eyes with affection. “Shut up.”
Jenna tosses an arm round my shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home. I’m freezing. Do you want to see if the others are up for meeting tonight? We could celebrate together.”
“I don’t know if I—”
“I will very delicately check whether Saffron’s there yet. And also maybe suggest they come to us so you don’t have to worry about accidentally being ambushed/being an ambusher should she arrive midway through the hang-out.”
“Thank you,” I say, forever grateful I don’t have to spell anything out for her.
Chapter Forty-nine
Nell
The otherswereup for a hang-out, and Saffron is still not up yet. She said she’d be back for Vivvie’s showcase, which is in two days, but the others still haven’t heard from her. Not about the showcase, not aboutanything.
“Wait, none of you have heard from her at all?” Vivvie’s sitting cross-legged on our living-room floor, furiously embroidering some floaty-looking fabric. “I messaged her a few times but I didn’t get an answer, and I figured she was too busy living it up with you.” She points her needle at me. “And I’ve been so fucking busy sewing for the showcase that I didn’t have time to think anything was weird. If I’d known she was back home, I might have worried more.”
“Yeah, does anyone else get bad vibes from Saff’s parents?” Casper says.
“Yes, Casp,” Jenna says. “Literally everyone does.”
“So, really, none of you have heard from her either?” I ask. “Not since New Year’s Eve.”
It’s headshakes and ‘nopes’ all around.
“I thought it was just me,” I say softly.
That hurt but somehow this feels worse. What if she’s not OK? What if something’s happened?
“Maybe her parents have taken it one step further and confiscated her phone?” Casper suggests. “I know she’s literally an adult, but maybe they’re even worse than we all thought.”
“She’s still been posting videos,” I say, shaking my head. “They could have been scheduled, but I don’t think so.”
I’ve been checking every day and watching. Two have been old ones, filmed before she left my house, but the most recent one is definitely new. She didn’t show her face in it but it was definitely filmed in her room at home, with her talking about black holes and how they’re formed. She’s doing the voiceover, and I can’t help but analyse the cadences of her voice. She sounds low. There’s not the peppiness that she normally puts on for her audience. She talks about how black holes are made when the gravity of a star overwhelms the pressure that’s on it to keep its shape, the core collapses, casting off a supernova while everything that’s left is just the absence of anything.
I get the video up on my phone and we watch it. When it ends, I look up, and see that they’re all concerned too.
