PHOEBE
It wasn’t a date. That’s what I kept telling myself. We were just randomly joining the Quidditch Society for a laugh.
But then it also sort of was a date. We had made an arrangement to see each other. And that led to lots of questions and mass internal hysteria. From ‘Should I wear my hair up?’ right through to ‘If it came to it, would I actually skank Abbey Baker and get with him?’
Obviously, yes. Although I would feel bad about it, because in Year Nine she let me join her group in dance when Flora was away and stuck up for me when Maud Evans tried to give me the role of a toothbrush in ‘Shake It Off’. Plus, she cried when Mrs Renchanova left. So I know she is nice. And she is so good looking that she blatantly doesn’t have to be.
In my head, she had definitely made Luke cry by cheating on him with her fit corridor neighbour at uni. Flora had kind of scattered that idea about and it had taken root in my mind and become the only logical chain of events.
The fact Luke had even suggested doing this whole quidditch thing had changed him in my eyes. In seven years of observing Luke Taylor it never occurred to me or Flora that he might have a sense of humour. He cried and was funny. He actually might be my perfect man.
I readjusted my tracksuit bottoms. I had tried to channel cool as a cucumber Bowl-Cut Girl, but without the actual bowl cut it hadn’t quite worked.
‘It’s here.’ Negin looked up. We were standing a few metres away from a very long, low shed-like building. There was a small clump of people standing near the door, all talking to each other. Luke wasn’t there yet.
‘OK,’ Negin said. ‘See you later.’ She put both hands on her rucksack straps like a hiker and turned. I didn’t want her to leave me alone, awkwardly waiting for one of the quidditch clump to talk to me.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to come?’
She looked into the distance like she was having extreme contemplative thoughts. ‘Yes.’ She nodded slowly. ‘I’m one hundred per cent sure I do not want to join the Quidditch Society.’
‘I’m not actually joining it either.’ I lowered my voice mid-sentence. ‘And you really like Harry Potter.’
‘Yes, but I am Ravenclaw and I don’t think anyone in Ravenclaw is actually into physical exercise.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘OK, I’ll wait until he gets here.’
‘Are you guys waiting for Quidditch Soc?’ A really, really tall girl with a really, really posh voice was standing in front of us. ‘Can I walk in with you so I don’t look like an actual weirdo.’
She didn’t wait for us to say yes, just smiled really broadly. ‘Mate, it’s so small, I probably won’t even fit in it.’ She walked over to the shed building and stood with her back against it like she was being measured at primary school. Her head almost reached the roof. ‘No, but literally, look.’
She lolloped back over. ‘I’m Frankie.’
‘Phoebe.’
‘Negin. I’m not actually joining.’
‘Oh my god, why not?’ Frankie said. ‘You literally have to come for like ten minutes because this is going to be massive banter.’ She reached her arms out as she said ‘massive’ to physically show us how much banter it was going to be. Without waiting for Negin to respond she took her arm and started walking her to the shed door.
‘Are you both in the same halls?’ she asked.
Negin and I nodded. Negin had kind of been swept up by Frankie against her will. I looked for Luke but I couldn’t see him.
Frankie made a really loud groaning noise and the other people waiting all looked at her. She spoke to them as well as us. ‘No, don’t. Genuinely. I actually might cry if I start talking about halls.’ She didn’t look like she was about to cry at all. ‘Basically, it’s all my own fault. Right now, I’m actually supposed to be in Costa Rica at a sloth sanctuary.’
I smiled. Negin looked a bit dazed. Frankie was bat-shit mental.
‘No, I know,’ she carried on. ‘I actually do love sloths. I love all animals. Even mosquitos. Because you know, they are just trying to live. Like, in my next life I am going to be a vet because I love animals so much. But I am too thick to be a vet in this life. But I am still considering being an animal psychologist.’
‘So, why didn’t you go to Costa Rica?’ Negin chose to bypass any animal psychology chat.
‘Such a good question. My best friend Tiggs is also massively livid. Because she wanted to go to Thailand and Australia but I was all like, “No, no, the sloths need us.” But then when results day came I just really wanted to go to uni. Also, I found out that in Costa Rica they have spiders the size of schnauzers. Miniature, but still.’
I laughed. ‘Had you paid for your flights?’
‘Yeah, so my dad also hates me. They wouldn’t buy me any new clothes.’ She lifted up her leg. ‘That is why I am wearing these gash leggings. They can, like, stop a snake biting you in the jungle.’
I stared at them. She nodded. ‘Honestly, these are like Bear Grylls-endorsed leggings. Try and bite these bitches, because you won’t get through. I have no uni clothes. Only jungle survival gear. But if there is a zombie attack I also have a mosquito net, a head torch and a £300 non-returnable monogrammed travel journal.’
Negin still looked a bit shell-shocked by Frankie. ‘What subject are you doing?’ she ventured politely.
‘Archaeology. They are quite jokes for letting me scab on to their thing. But because I’m not with the sloths I got put on a corridor with all these old people. And they are not interested at all. I slept for a week straight before I came to prepare for Freshers’ and so far all they have done is eat some cheese together.’
‘Like mice,’ I said.
She laughed so loudly the whole clump stopped speaking to each other and just stared at her.
‘They are actually mice,’ she sighed. ‘But actually they are OK and they feel sorry me and one of them gave me a toasted teacake. And one of them is doing a PhD in Archaeology so hopefully she will tell me what the hell is going on with all the archaeology shit. I thought we’d be cruising round Cairo like The Mummy but you don’t even go to Egypt apparently, which is budget, right? They are well upping the drama by making us wait outside, I mean it’s Baltic out here, especially in tropical wear.’ She started doing star jumps on the spot. ‘Quick warm up. Why are you here then? Not at uni obviously, I mean here at Quidditch Soc.’ She puffed. ‘I think I’m a natural chaser, TBH.’
‘I’m just here as a supportive friend,’ Negin said. ‘Phoebe is waiting to meet . . . someone.’
Frankie star-jumped forward almost straight into Negin. ‘What, like a date?’
Negin nodded at the same time I shook my head. Frankie lit up.
‘It’s definitely not a date,’ I stuttered. ‘It’s just this . . . boy.’
‘Please tell me,’ Frankie hissed. ‘Please. I live for stuff like this. Even more than animals or Harry Potter. This is my actual life. Don’t freeze me out of the gossip.’ She put her face in between me and Negin. ‘Tell me,’ she whispered again.
I scanned the whole campus as far as I could see and there was no sign of anything Luke Taylor shaped. ‘OK,’ I said. ‘There’s this boy here that I kind of fancied at school . . .’
‘What’s his name?’ Frankie snapped.
‘Luke Taylor.’
‘OK, go on.’
‘Well, I saw him at the fair and we both decided to join Quidditch Soc.’
‘We decided, or he asked you?’ Frankie’s eyes narrowed.
‘Well, he definitely wanted to join something . . . together.’
‘Done deal.’ Frankie clapped her hands. ‘Book the church because you are in the luuuuurve business.’ She started jumping up and down again. ‘I would actually pay money to see how this plays out. Not loads, but like, maybe five pounds.’ She clenched her fists together and made an excited yelping sound. She looked at Negin. ‘Front row seats for us.’
The door swung open and a ginger girl dressed head to toe in pink, including her shoes, flung her arms above her head and squealed, ‘We’re ready.’
‘When Luke Taylor comes in do this signal.’ Frankie looked at the sky and let out a loud howl. The clump all turned around. ‘Just a subtle pack-howl, no big deal. Keep it caj.’
The long, low-ceilinged room was totally empty. One entire wall was filled with pictures of extremely happy looking people. Happy at The Cursed Child, happy on the Warner Brothers Tour, and very, very happy playing quidditch. Above the photos were various ribbons and cups and house scarves. Along another there were some brooms lined up and, at the very end, one mop.
A boy was almost dancing around the room, offering people Freddos from a plastic bowl.
‘I don’t think anyone here is Slytherin,’ Negin whispered.
‘Oh my god. Chocolate frogs,’ Frankie yelled and took three, handing me and Negin one.
I looked at my phone and then at the door. No sign of Luke and it was already ten past. The longer he didn’t come, the more nervous it was making me. I couldn’t concentrate properly on what was going on. I kept re-tying my hair up.
A girl in army fatigues strode into the middle of the room and clapped her hands incredibly forcefully. She had the stance of a bouncer and an expression to match. She looked like she could take down The Rock. Next to her was a small, incredibly thin boy wearing a Gryffindor knitted jumper and trousers that were almost leggings.
‘This is legit my fave society already,’ Frankie said in her stage whisper. ‘I mean, come on.’ She unwrapped another chocolate frog and shoved it in her mouth, whole.
Negin saw me looking at the door again. ‘It’s not even quarter past,’ she said.
‘It’s not a big deal.’ I smiled and she smiled back reassuringly.
‘Welcome to Quidditch Soc,’ said the incredibly thin boy. ‘I’m Brandon, I’m the co-captain, and this is Misty, the other co-captain. We decided not to have a vice because we are both equally important.’
‘Misty and Brandon,’ Negin mouthed.
I nodded. ‘Brandon sounds like someone who rides dirt bikes in California. And Misty, Misty sounds like . . .’
‘A stripper.’ We all whispered it at exactly the same time and in unison it became audible. Frankie coughed loudly to try and cover it up.
The door creaked and I finally felt my tummy relax. I turned to speak to Negin so it didn’t look like I had just been waiting for him. But after a few seconds I turned around and realized that none of the people who had just walked in were Luke. I clamped a smile back on my face and tried to look normal.
‘Sorry, we didn’t know whether to come in,’ a girl with long blonde hair was saying. Next to her was a stunningly attractive boy with glasses and masses of black curly hair. He was really tanned and was wearing a black polo neck.
Frankie made a quiet howling sound. ‘Luke Taylor is insanely hot. Well done you.’
‘That’s not him.’ I tried to sound offhand but my voice came out flat.
‘Well, would he do?’ Frankie whispered. ‘Because oh my actual god.’
We all looked at the curly-haired boy and he smiled. ‘I’m gonna slouch to look smaller.’ Frankie bent her knees slightly. She shuffled closer to me with her knees still bent. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked. Her face softened and it was like for the first time she wasn’t joking around. ‘Whoever this Luke Taylor is, he obviously doesn’t appreciate the importance of quidditch.’
‘Or punctuality,’ Negin said, darkly.
He wasn’t coming. Whichever way you looked at it, it was a dick thing to do. I felt like such an idiot.
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘It’s just weird because this whole thing was his idea. He seemed really into it.’
Frankie put her extremely long arms around me. ‘I find boys in general very perplexing,’ she said, matter-of-factly. ‘From now on, sisters before misters. But obviously if Luke Taylor turns up late you can ditch us.’
I laughed, and the skinny boy at the front started talking again.
‘You are all now part of our quidditch family,’ he said. ‘We are the York Boggarts.’
Negin couldn’t suppress a smirk, but Frankie whooped loudly.
‘Right,’ said Misty, and everyone went quiet. ‘Firstly, I can’t emphasize enough that the real-life sport of quidditch differs vastly from the sport of quidditch you have encountered in the Harry Potter novels. We do not actually fly in this version of the sport. The York Boggarts are part of the Varsity league. Last year we finished bottom of the first division, which, I won’t lie to you, was a blow. It is really encouraging to see so many new faces here this evening. The Leeds Obliviators are our main threat this season. But I am confident that with regular attendance at training we can turn into their worst fear, and obliviate them.’
There was a beat where Misty almost smiled to herself. It was like she was riling us all up to go over the top.
‘This is extremely surreal,’ Negin murmured in her perfunctory way.
‘Right.’ Brandon smiled. ‘Shall we do a quick warm-up game?’
We all got in a circle and introduced ourselves and told everyone what Hogwarts house we were in. Then we started playing catch with bean bags. I stopped looking at the door when we started playing ladders, accompanied by Harry and the Potters.
Quidditch was basically lots of running round with a broom between your legs and trying to dodge flat volleyballs. At one point, I was laughing so hysterically that I had to stand at the edge and compose myself. As we left I realized I actually wanted to come back.
As soon as we were a few metres away from the hut, Frankie started shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry but how jokes was that whole thing? And also, LOLs that we actually tracked down the fittest boy at this whole university on the second day. I mean, maybe one of the fittest people in the whole world. And also he is foreign, so he probably doesn’t know anyone here. Vulnerable and in need of a tall woman to show him a good time.’
‘He really was unexpectedly fit,’ I agreed.
Negin nodded. ‘Even you must be able to see that he was fitter than Luke Taylor.’
‘I actually can’t believe he didn’t come,’ I said.
‘Luke Taylor is dead to me,’ Frankie announced. ‘I mean, I know I’ve never met him but, still, he’s dead to me.’ She stopped suddenly in her tracks. ‘Maybe he is dead. And that’s why he didn’t come. I mean, you know loads of people die in Freshers’, right? Like, millions.’
LUKE
‘We just think it’s best if she doesn’t go.’
That’s what she’d kept saying. And then she’d added, ‘Obviously, no one’s blaming you.’
But the thing is, if no one really is blaming you, they don’t need to say it, do they? Not ten times in one phone call.
Obviously, everyone blamed me. Because obviously it was my fault. I had stopped loving her. It was as simple, and ridiculously complicated, as that.
I don’t know when it happened. It wasn’t like a wake-up-one-morning epiphany. It had taken me all summer to realize it. After results day, the whole of August and September had merged into one long, tearful conversation about how it didn’t matter that she didn’t get in to York Met, and we could still make it work long-distance. And then, at some point, it had dawned on me that maybe I didn’t want it to work any more. Does that make me a massive prick? I don’t know. Probably.
In fact, no. Definitely. Because now she was missing out on uni. Her whole life was broken in half. And it was all my fault.
‘We just can’t let her go to Cardiff like this, Luke,’ her mum had said. ‘She’s had one bad knock already with the results, and now, after what happened last night . . .’ She sighed, heavily. ‘I just don’t want her getting any more knocks, you know? She was in such a state this morning, saying she didn’t want to go next week. And I think for once that she’s right. You’ve got to be in a certain . . . frame of mind, to start university. And with everything that’s gone on, she’s just not ready right now. So, we’ll wait a year, and . . . see what happens.’
I hadn’t really said much. I’d just let her talk. She’d said they were going away for a week or so, as a family, and that maybe it would be best if me and Abbey didn’t speak for a bit.
I’d walked back to the corridor in a sort of numb daze. I thought about calling one of my mates. Reece or Harry or someone. But what would they say? It’s not like I could talk to them about the endless missed calls or the constant nagging guilt or the crying in the fucking computer room. I wouldn’t even know how to start that conversation.
I got three missed calls in quick succession from my parents, making me one hundred per cent sure that Abbey’s mum must have phoned them, too. It suddenly felt like I was treading water in a thunderstorm, beginning to sink.
I just wished I could understand what had happened. What had changed inside me. I mean, surely, if you don’t feel the way you used to feel, isn’t it better to be honest? To actually own up to it? Or should you spend the rest of your life pretending, just to keep everyone else happy?
I bought two Twixes, went back to my room and fell into a lumpy, half-hungover sleep.
When I woke up again, it was dark. I stared around at the empty walls, with the two unopened suitcases still sat grumpily on the carpet. Outside, I could hear people bustling between the blocks, plastic bags clinking with pre-drinks bottles.
To take my mind off the call, I unpacked and started putting some pictures up. I’d brought my tatty little red folder with me, where I keep everything of any emotional value – pictures, cards, letters, that sort of thing. But that hadn’t really helped, because most of the stuff in it was Abbey-related. She was in pretty much every photo. All the letters and cards were from her. Who else would send me a letter? Her name was written right through my life, like in a stick of rock. Who the hell was I without her?
There was a knock on the door and Arthur didn’t even wait for a reply before kicking it open. He stood in the doorway, yawning stickily and blinking at me, the sickly sweet smell of weed wafting in with him.
‘I will have a cup of tea, then,’ he said. ‘If you’re making one.’
I laughed despite myself. ‘I’m not making one. And we’re out of milk anyway.’
‘There’s two pints in the fridge!’
‘They’re Barney’s. They’ve got Post-Its on them.’
Arthur made a face. ‘Fuck’s sake, milk is communal. Everyone knows that. Certain things are beyond Post-Its.’ He started holding up fingers. ‘Milk, butter, beer, chicken kievs . . .’
‘Did you eat his chicken kievs? He was going on about that earlier.’
Arthur shrugged. ‘Like I say, they’re communal. Clue’s in the name: Kiev. Russia was the birthplace of communism.’
He walked into my room and started picking through the stuff in my folder, snorting at random photos of me and Reece in fancy dress. Then he held up a card that said, ‘Life begins at 40!’
‘Why the hell have you got this?’ he laughed.
‘Oh, it’s just a stupid thing,’ I said. ‘Private joke.’
Rita poked her head round the door. ‘Aw. Are you two decorating? I had to get a book from the library, so I thought I’d come and say hello. So weird being back on the old corridor.’
‘Reets, you’re doing Law,’ said Arthur. ‘Tell Luke that chicken kievs are communal.’
‘We’ve haven’t covered chicken kievs yet,’ Rita said. ‘That’s not till third year.’
Arthur dropped the card on my bed and walked out. ‘Well, Rita will have a cup of tea with me. Rita’s a real friend.’
They left and I stared down at the card. It wasn’t a stupid thing, really.
I pulled the others out of the folder. As well as ‘Life begins at 40!’ there was ‘Good luck in your new job!’, ‘Happy Chinese New Year!’ and ‘To The World’s Best Granddad!’
It had started on Abbey’s sixteenth birthday. We’d only been going out a couple of months, and I was coming back from holiday when I realized I hadn’t got her a card. The card shop at the airport had a pretty rubbish selection, and the only vaguely birthday-related one said ‘You are 8 today!’ and had a big colourful badge on the front. I gave it to her later that night, and she’d cracked up laughing.
After that, it snowballed: every Christmas, birthday and anniversary, we competed to see which of us could give the most random, obscure, inappropriate card. I remember us both snorting tea out of our nostrils as she opened my personal masterpiece: ‘Congratulations on Becoming an Uncle!’ last Valentine’s.
That had only been, what . . . seven months ago? Back then, there was literally no part of me that could imagine life without Abbey. I was totally, completely convinced we would be together for ever. How the fuck can you just . . . lose that feeling? Why had I lost it and she hadn’t?
I lay down on the bed again and tried to trace it back, properly. It had definitely started around A-Levels. Our parents had both agreed we should spend less time together, so we could concentrate on revising, and I remember noticing after a while that it was almost a relief to not have to see her every day. To have more time to myself. It was like this murky, guilty secret I carried around with me, and every time we were together, it got heavier.
And then, after exams had finished, there was Tenerife. That was when things had really started to go wrong. Me and Harry were the only ones with girlfriends, so we used to head back early every night while the rest of them got off with randoms on the dance floor. And on the last night, I’d just thought: fuck it, and stayed out. And that Naomi girl had kept smiling at me, and dancing nearer and nearer and nearer. And nothing had happened, obviously, but the truth was . . . I had wanted something to happen. And that felt just as bad, somehow. I remember lying in bed that night, listening to Reece mumbling drunkenly in his sleep, and feeling like I’d properly betrayed her. Like things could never go back to how they were.
When I got home, I swore she could tell. She could tell something was up, anyway. And it was like the more I backed off, the more tightly she clung on. I started calling less and less; she started calling more and more. And slowly it was like all the fun was being strangled out of the relationship, and we were just spending time together because . . . that was what we did.
And then results day came, and she opened that envelope, and as she crumpled down on to the bench in tears, it was like our whole future crumpled with her. We wouldn’t be spending the next three years together at York Met. And that seemed big and scary and terrible, but deep down it also seemed exciting. Because for so long, it was like me and Abbey were almost the same person. Or, maybe, just that we were completely defined by each other. To half the school I was just ‘Abbey’s boyfriend’, but now, for the next three years, I would be . . . me.
I should have told her, right there on that bench, how I felt. But I didn’t. I just held her and kissed her and promised we would make it work.
I felt the tears start to prickle under my eyelids. It was ridiculous; this was supposed to be the most exciting week of my life, and I was pissing it away, crying in my room. I could hear Arthur and Rita’s muffled laughter through the wall. I sat up, took a deep breath and tried unsuccessfully to calm the frantic whirring guilty panic in my stomach. I washed my face, stuck a few photos up on the wall – all Abbey-less – then stuffed the cards back into the folder and pushed it under my bed.
I went and knocked on Arthur’s door and he shouted ‘It’s open!’ The room was thick with weed smoke. Arthur was slumped at the foot of his bed, playing Xbox, while Rita sat cross-legged on top of the duvet, drinking tea and reading a book the width of a house brick.
I took the spliff off Arthur, had a drag and offered it to Rita.
‘Oh, no, thanks,’ she said. ‘I don’t smoke.’ She smiled down at Arthur, who was staring blankly into the TV. ‘I just come here for the sparkling conversation.’
I took another drag.
‘So, how was Freshers’ Fair then?’ she asked, folding her page over and putting the book down. ‘Did you sign up for anything?’
‘Yeah, football and . . .’ It hit me. ‘Oh fuck!’
‘What?’ said Arthur. ‘Tell me you didn’t sign up for the fucking Caribbean Soc?’
Rita laughed. ‘Poor old Jeremy. He’s always trying to get me to join that. I keep telling him: my mum’s from Trinidad, I’m from Luton.’
‘No . . .’ I moaned. ‘It wasn’t that. It was quidditch.’
Arthur frowned at me. ‘What, the Harry Potter thing? Do people really play that?’ He looked at Rita. ‘People can’t actually fly, can they?’
‘We don’t cover flying till third year either,’ she said.
‘I was supposed to go to this quidditch thing this afternoon,’ I muttered. ‘I completely forgot.’ Phoebe and the balloon and the handshake all suddenly swirled into my head.
‘You dickhead,’ Arthur scoffed. ‘I told you not to sign up for anything you weren’t genuinely interested in!’
‘I am genuinely interested. Like, I was going to go, honestly. It’s just . . . Something came up.’
Everywhere I turned I was fucking things up. I’d only just met Phoebe properly and already she probably thought I was a total prick. I suddenly felt I had to go and see her. To say sorry for not being there. Her block was only a minute’s walk away. She’d be doing pre-drinks there right now. I stood up.
‘I’m just going out for a bit.’
Arthur paused the game. ‘Oh, great, well get some more booze while you’re out, yeah?’
He dug into his pocket for a wrinkled £20 note. ‘There you go. Just get as much beer as that will buy. And maybe some crisps. Quavers.’
I headed out towards Phoebe’s block, feeling the weed start to take effect in the form of a fuzzy warmth behind my forehead. I walked across the grass to D Block and looked up to see her through the first-floor kitchen window. She was talking to a tall blonde girl and a bloke with a shaved head. They were all drinking and laughing, throwing robot dance moves to some hip hop track I could hear thumping through the glass.
I had a weird sort of moment of clarity. Why the hell did I think she cared whether I was at the quidditch thing or not? Who was I to her? No one. Someone she used to walk past in the corridor at school.
I sat down on a bench and rubbed my eyes. Every window of every block was full of noise and people, and I suddenly felt tiny and invisible and completely alone.
I stood up to go, feeling the scrunched-up £20 note in my pocket and wondering how much cheap booze it would buy. I needed to try and get my head straight. To think a bit more clearly. And the best way to do that, I decided, would be to get really, really pissed.