Page 13 of Sad Girl Hours
“Speaking of solar eclipses,” Saffron says, now a vision of excitement and warmth, in stark contrast to the absent stare from only thirty seconds before, “there’s one coming up next month. We should come up here to not look at it.”
“I love going places to not look at things,” Casper says. “That’s my favourite thing.”
“Yeah, we should definitely come and ‘watch’ –” I put the word in air quotes – “the eclipse, Saffron. That’s so cool. Are there any other sick astronomological phenomena taking place soon?”
“I love how you’re not only great at arranging words that already exist, you’re also great at coming up with new ones,” Saffron says. “You’re such a talented wordsmith. A real protégée of the great bard himself.”
“Just answer the question.”
“Well, as group resident astronomologicaller –” her green eyes gleam with gentle teasing as well as the light from the setting sun – “there’s the hunter’s moon in October, and a hopefully visible meteor shower in November.”
“Nice. We should watch out for both of those too.”
“And there’s always the Northern Lights,” Casper adds nonchalantly, and I whip round to face him just in time to witness him thrusting a whole mini sausage roll into his face.
“What?”
He just looks at me, slowly chewing his sausage roll, cheeks puffing out like a bilious rodent.
“You can’t see the Northern Lights from the UK, can you?” I ask. “I thought you had to go to Norway or some other country that looks like it was inspired by the movieFrozen.”
I stare at him as he takes a disgustingly long time to clear his mouth so he can reply. “I would like to double-check that you’re aware that Nordic countries predate the movieFrozen, Nell. And most of the time, yes. But sometimes in winter you can see them in the North of England.”
“We’re in the North of England,” Saffron says thoughtfully.
“Well done, Ms Lawrence. Those geography skills are really coming along nicely,” Casper says with a genuinely proud air.
She shakes her head. “I mean, I knew you could sometimes see them in this country, but I’m from Exeter, which is way too far south. I never realised there’s a chance I could see them when I’m up here.”
“Yeah,” Casper says. “I’ve got an app on my phone that some people on my course made in collab with the physics and programming lot. It sends you alerts when they might be visible in your area.”
Saffron pulls out her phone instantly. “That’s so cool! What’s it called?”
Casper shows her where to find it while I keep sitting there, fizzing with excitement. I jiggle my legs up and down, accidentally knocking the box of tarts on to the grass.
“So people have really seen them? In this country?” I can’t keep the eagerness out of my voice.
“In the most United of Kingdoms, yes, Nell.”
I let out a noise that doesn’tnotresemble a kettle reaching boiling point.
“Jesus.” Jenna winces. “All the dogs of Lancaster are now crying, Nell. There’s a pit bull over there absolutelyweeping.”
“Sorry to that pit bull,” I say, “but do you guys not think that is cool? I had no idea. I’ve always wanted to see them, ever since I was a kid. I had a picture book about polar bears. One of them catches a cold or something, and it ended with him and his polar bear husband watching the Northern Lights together. I just think they’re so beautiful. It’s like the sky’s rebelling against the dark.”
“Or like charged particles from the sun’s magnetic sphere are travelling one hundred and fifty million kilometres to collide with gases in our atmosphere,” Saffron says with no less wonder in her voice.
I blink. “Sure. I’m adding this to my mental list of reasons why autumn and winter are the best seasons, objectively.”
“I don’t know about that,” Saffron says, going quieter again.
“Don’t fight Nell on this,” Jenna warns. “She’s like the autumn Lorax. She speaks for the leaves. I say this with the greatest of love, but you do tend to go a bit feral in autumn, Nell.”
“Because it’s thebest,” I say. “Crunching through leaves, cosy nights in with candles and books and endless reruns ofGilmore Girls, hot chocolate…”
“Put that on a poster in a janky handwritten-looking font and you’ll make absolute bank from your fellow White women. You can sell them in Ugg boot and flannel scarf shops,” Jenna says, causing Viviana to let out a laugh that sounds like a hoot from a thoroughly amused owl.
“You know,fair,” I say. “But it’s more than just the cheesy aesthetic stuff. I feel cosy and safe in autumn. I get to do all my favourite things, and it feels like everyone’s coming together, everyone’s building up tosomethingtogether, even if we don’t know exactly what that something is.”
