Page 60 of Save Us
James
My job this evening is selling bread-on-a-stick to the rest of the school—plus keeping as unobtrusive an eye on the crowd as possible and watching out for Ruby. Now and then, I see her brown hair gleaming in the firelight or catch sight of her sprinting across the field, but she generally disappears from view as fast as she appears. So I focus on the kids coming up to the table with their couple of quid.
I’ve never done anything like this before, and in the past I’d probably have thought it was totally pathetic. But tonight, it’s giving me a real sense of peace.
This whole year—or since Mum died, to be more precise—I’ve been grateful for anything that distracts me from brooding on everything in my life that’s going to shit.
When I’m with the events team, I don’t have to think about the fact that I’m basically homeless and relying on my girlfriend’s parents’ generosity.
When I’m training my heart out, I don’t have to waste time worrying that I’ve trashed Mum’s legacy to me.
And when I’m hitting the books, I don’t have to try to figure out what I’m even going to do with my life, let alone why I’m bothering with A levels.
I try not to let Ruby see, but that’s getting harder with every day that passes. The more I rack my brains, the clearer it gets that there are no answers to my questions—and the heavier my worries weigh me down.
“You’ve got flour down your jeans, bro.”
I jump and look up. Wren’s standing there, grinning broadly and pointing to my legs.
“Is it nine already?” I ask in surprise, looking at my watch. Wren and I agreed that he’d meet me here after my shift so that we can spend the bonfire evening together, in keeping with our ancient tradition.
Wren nods, and I try half-heartedly to brush myself down. Once I’ve handed the booth over to Kieran and wiped my hands on a towel, I emerge from behind the stall.
I’ve seen Wren every day on the way to school, in lessons, and at training, but it feels like weeks since we really talked.
“How’s it going?” I ask after a while. Partly because I don’t know what else to say, and partly because I really want to know the answer.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Good job I got in first, then.”
Wren grins, and we stroll away from the fire, toward the edge of the field, where people are sneaking cigarettes and the occasional beer.
“I’m fine,” Wren replies eventually.
The music from the loudspeakers fades as we get farther from the bonfire.
“So…what’s it like?” I ask cautiously. Wren has barely told us anything about his new life. He doesn’t talk about the house they’ve moved into, and he’s told us nothing about how his parents are coping. I know from Alistair that he’s been at training as little as I have, but anytime I ask him what’s up, he changes the subject.
Wren is embarrassed, that much is obvious. And it’s killing me that he doesn’t think he can talk to me about it—after all, we’re both in the same fucking boat.
I’m expecting him to duck my question yet again, but he surprises me. “Different,” he says. “But it’s OK. We’ve finally got the internet working.”
He pulls a hip flask from his inside jacket pocket and takes a big swig. Then he holds the little silver flask out to me. I only pause a moment, then take it and drink. This moment feels almost like the old days.
“I’m slowly getting used to Gormsey,” he continues. “But it’s really weird, the way everyone keeps saying hello to me.”
“It’s the same on Ruby’s road,” I say, handing him back the flask. “I’m on first-name terms with everyone these days.”
Wren grins. “It’s kind of nice too though.”
For a while, we walk in silence.
“I might have found a buyer for my shares in Beaufort’s, by the way,” I add once we’ve come to a stop a good way from the fire. “My financial adviser is doing every background check you can think of, but it’s looking pretty good.”
“That would be big, bro,” says Wren thoughtfully. “I’m happy for you.”
“It’s not definite. And I want to meet her in person again. But yeah, if it all goes to plan, it should be done by the time we finish school.”
