‘I know what you’re thinking.’ He pushes the fabric aside and flops on to the bed, sending roses falling to the carpet. ‘It looks like a three-star hotel. All that’s missing is a mini kettle and two packs of shortbread on my desk.’

  ‘At least it’s big.’ It’s massive – almost twice the size of the room I share with Jake. You could practically fit our whole flat in here. The garden outside is double the size of the courtyard by Mackay House, too. ‘And . . . eh . . . the view’s no bad.’

  Nico gives a short laugh. ‘I hate this room. I painted it purple when I was fifteen, but I went to visit my mum for a few weeks in the summer, and when I came back, Jenny had done it up like this. More mature, she said. More appropriate. I thought about changing it back, but she’d just do it all over again.’ He stretches his arms out over his head. ‘I can’t wait to go to art school. My room’s gonna look like Matisse and Miró had a paint fight in it.’

  I sit down on the bed beside him. ‘Where are you applying again?’

  ‘A few different places: London, Paris, Barcelona, Berlin. London’s my first choice.’

  It stings that he’s not even considering the art schools here in Edinburgh, but I nod and listen to him ramble about the different courses. His voice changes when he’s talking about it. It’s not like the way Jake talks about Cambridge, when his pitch gets higher, and his words get faster. Nico sounds way more relaxed, as if he knows it’s a home he hasn’t found yet. It makes me feel a bit uneasy. It must show on my face, because he smiles and taps the back of his hand against my knee.

  ‘I’ll still come to Everland, Brodes,’ he says. ‘There must be doors in all those cities. I’ll find one, and we’ll be able to hang out every Thursday, just like we do now.’

  He sits up and pulls the gold material towards him. It’s a sort of cloak, with long sleeves and a hood embroidered with delicate floral patterns. ‘Hey, do you mind giving me a hand with this? I’ve got about a hundred roses still to attach, and the deadline’s next week.’

  Turns out, he’s not exaggerating: he goes to his desk and comes back with a whole box full of roses, all made from gold satin. I can’t sew to save myself, but he’s marked little dots around the hem of the cloak where they need to be attached, so it’s not too difficult. It’s pretty relaxing, actually. Nico puts some music on, and we sit in a comfortable silence for a little while, stitching and watching his creation take shape.

  ‘Are you gonna wear this to Everland tonight?’ I ask.

  ‘Nah, have to take photos of it for my portfolio first.’ He ties a knot in his thread and looks up. ‘I need to go to Kasia’s before we head up there and help her finish her costume. Do you want to come with me? She lives off Leith Walk – you know, the flat where we first met.’

  My heart gives a pang thinking about that day. Tink hiding underneath the wheels of the car; the way he sat in the crook of Nico’s arms as he carried him across the courtyard.

  ‘Do you think she’d mind?’ I ask. ‘She’s no gonnae chuck me out like she tries to push me out of Everland every week, is she?’

  Nico laughs.

  ‘Oh, come on. Kasia likes you fine. She’s just obsessed with these rules that she’s invented.’ He grins and flicks a rose at me. ‘It’ll be fun. I’ll get us a pizza or something. That way you won’t have to suffer through the hell that is dinner with my dad and Jenny.’

  ‘They cannae be that bad.’

  Nico gestures around him. ‘Brody, look at this room. You think anyone with even a modicum of personality would choose this?’

  ‘All right, then,’ I laugh. ‘I’ll come to Kasia’s.’

  ‘Cool.’ He smiles and takes another rose from the box. He turns it in his fingers for a moment, then glances up at me. ‘So . . . Do you want to talk about what’s up?’

  I swallow.

  ‘It’s nothing. Just, uh . . . My mam’s giving the cat away.’

  I try to make the story sound funny, like I’m not that bothered. I make a joke out of the way I reacted. Nico laughs in the right places, but his eyes are all soft and sad. He actually looks slightly heartbroken.

  ‘God, Brody,’ he says, once I’m finished. ‘That really sucks.’

  ‘Aye, it does.’ My throat’s gone all tight again. There’s pressure building behind my eyes. As I reach for another rose, Nico touches the tips of his fingers to mine.

  ‘I’d take him here if I could, but Jenny’d actually murder me. She’d probably murder Tink, too – I wouldn’t put it past her, to be honest.’

  ‘Thanks. I know.’ I bite my lip. ‘It’s not only that . . . I dunno.’

  He waits, quietly stitching as I work out my words. I’m not good at this. Not good at saying how I feel, or even really thinking about it properly. I stare at the wings by the wardrobe, letting the different shades of blue grow hazy in my eyes.

  ‘I’m just a bit sick of everything,’ I say finally. ‘I’m sick of feeling second best to my brother, and people walking all over me, and nobody ever listening. I’m sick of those girls at school taking the piss, and I’m sick of feeling shit about myself because I let them take the piss. I’m sick of being treated like a kid – I know my mam wouldnae say we have to get rid of the cat if she didn’t have to, and I know it’s not their fault they’ve got no money. But it’s the fact they just made that decision for me, without even asking me what I thought. Everything in my life feels like it’s out of my hands. I’ve got no say over anything, no control over anything. School’s a mess; I doubt I’ll pass any of my exams; I don’t know what I’m gonnae do afterwards. Seeing youse at Everland is the only thing that keeps me going, but there’s a whole week between each visit, and it’s getting harder and harder to get through it.’

  By my standards, that’s like a dramatic monologue. When I look over, Nico has sat up and is staring at me. My cheeks start to burn.

  ‘Sorry.’ I pick up the needle again and begin to attach another rose. ‘That was stupid.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t,’ Nico says quietly. ‘I get it, Brody. Seriously. All of us in Everland have felt like that at some point. I feel like that all the time.’

  I find that hard to imagine. Nico’s so himself, so comfortable in his own skin. Then again, he’s obviously not comfortable in this room, in this house. That can’t be easy, either.

  He shuffles across the bed to sit beside me and pulls me into another hug, his skinny arms pulling me close. Despite all the anger and frustration of this afternoon, my stomach fills with butterflies.

  ‘That feeling you were talking about . . . it’s why you found Everland. Even if it was via me. It’s why you belong there.’ He leans back to look at me, smiling, and the tightness in my chest starts to unravel. ‘The rest of the world doesn’t matter. You’ve got us now. We’re a family. No matter what happens next year, I promise that won’t change.’

  That night at Everland feels longer than usual: long enough for me to angry-drum my way through five or six sets with Esther and the band; long enough for me and Nico to go exploring until we find an old water park and a street full of china shops. By the time I finally feel the tug to go home, Zahra and Kasia are already long gone. Even Miyumi, who always stays behind after the rest of us, is getting ready to head back.

  But at the end of it all, nothing has changed. It’s still Thursday. It’s not even midnight.

  Everybody’s awake when I get home. That’s no surprise where Dad and Jake are concerned, but Mam’s usually in her bed long before now if she’s not on night shift. She’s sitting at the table going through some papers, but she puts her pen down when she sees me come in.

  ‘There you are.’

  I’d been expecting an instant bollocking and a hundred questions about where I’ve been all evening, but instead she sounds relieved.

  ‘Put the TV off, Rob, will you?’ she says.

  A long, slow shot of some tropical rainforest pans across the screen. Dad reaches for the remote, but I tell him not to bother.

  ‘There’s no point talking about it.’ I hang my jacket up and kick off my shoes. ‘You’ve obviously made your minds up.’

  Mam stands up, fiddling with the rings on her left hand. ‘Listen, love, Jake’s had an—’

  A small starburst of anger flares up inside me. I don’t care what Jake thinks. Haven’t heard about many ‘sacrifices’ on his part. Still, I force myself to keep my voice steady. My night in Everland may not have changed anything, but it gave me some time to calm down. None of this is my mam’s fault. I’m not going to pretend I’m OK with it, but I don’t need to make it worse for her.

  ‘Mam, I’m tired,’ I say. ‘I’m off to bed.’

  Instead of going to my room, I go to Keira’s. She doesn’t answer when I knock, but the light is still on, so I step inside. She’s tucked up in bed, her purple duvet pulled over her head. Now the rage has finally died down, she’s crying into her pillow.

  The throb of pain in my chest takes me by surprise. My sister is loud and obnoxious and bossy and thoughtless, and she loves attention, but she’s not one for crocodile tears. If she’s still crying, it means she’s really upset.

  ‘Hey.’ I sit on the edge of her bed, gazing at the photos of her friends on her pinboard, the posters of musicals and pop groups on the back of her door. Her room is so small, I can stretch my legs out and touch the wall. ‘Well, this is shit, isn’t it?’

  The duvet shuffles. Suddenly, Keira sits up and flings her arms around my neck. I can’t even remember the last time we hugged, but I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. She’s tiny enough that my elbows almost meet around her waist.

  ‘Here.’ I reach for Barry, the soft toy bunny she’s had since she was two, and nuzzle his face against her cheek. ‘Tell Barry about it. Barry’s a good listener.’

  ‘Piss off, Brody,’ she says, laughing, but she takes the bunny and hugs him against her chest. Under the make-up and the jewellery and the high heels she borrows from her friends, I sometimes forget how young Keira actually is. I think she does, too.

  She sits back against the wall, pulling her knees towards her chest. Her eyes are blurry black with mascara. She wipes them on the sleeve of her pyjama top.

  ‘This is so unfair. I know they don’t have a lot of money, but I love performing. They think it’s just some stupid hobby, but I’m good at it.’

  ‘I know. You’re really good.’ I squeeze her toes, tucked up in striped pink-and-green socks. ‘I get it, Kei. Honestly.’

  And I do. Our parents see my drumming the same way – something fun, but far from a priority. Jake’s hobbies are a priority because they’ll help him get into Cambridge. They’ll help him ‘realize his potential’. If I’d had private drumming lessons or my own kit, maybe I could have made something out of it, too. I know my parents can’t afford any of that, so I can’t be angry with them about it. But it still sucks.

  ‘It’ll probably just be for a wee while, till Mam gets more hours at work,’ I tell Keira. ‘I bet you’ll be able to go back after the summer.’

  She pulls a face. ‘But we’re doing Grease next term. I wanted to be Frenchy.’

  ‘There’ll be other shows.’

  ‘Yeah, but no this one.’

  I hold back a sigh. Keira might get to carry on with her classes eventually, but I won’t get my cat back. I’m the only one giving something up for good. Me, and Tink himself.

  Still, for all she annoys me, Keira and I are in the same boat. Deep down, she probably knows she’s got hardly any chance of making it to Broadway or the West End, just like I had to admit a few years ago that there was no chance I’d ever become a professional drummer. We can’t all be exceptional, and our family already has one genius. Jake wants to go into politics. In twenty years, he’ll probably be living down in London, or in some fancy mansion here in Edinburgh. Keira and I will still be living in places like this, working jobs that barely pay enough to live on, scraping by like our parents always have. Given the way things are going in the world, we might even be worse off.

  I lean back, staring up at the magazine posters stuck on Keira’s wall. ‘Anyway, this doesnae have to stop you. Could you no start a musical theatre group at school or something?’

  She raises her eyebrows at me. ‘What – like Glee?’

  We both grin. Our school isn’t exactly a ‘jazz hands and show tunes’ sort of place. If anyone tried bursting into song in the canteen, they’d probably get a kick in the baws.

  ‘No – like a school show or something,’ I say. ‘You should talk to Miss Patel about it. She loves all that stuff.’

  Keira sniffs. She wipes Barry over her tear-stained face, leaving a black smudge on his nose. ‘Maybe. Would you join it?’

  ‘Aye, sure. Here, we can do my audition now.’

  I start singing ‘Defying Gravity’ from Wicked (another one of the soundtracks she plays on repeat; I’m pretty sure half of Mackay House knows the words by now), exaggerating just how crap my singing voice is – though to be honest, I don’t have to exaggerate that much. Keira suffers through two lines before covering my mouth with one hand, Barry’s ears with the other.

  ‘Never mind, never mind! You can play the drums if you like, though.’ She rests her chin on her knees. ‘Sorry about Tink. It’s gonnae be weird without him around.’

  My throat gets tight. I’d been so angry with Mam for saying she was going to get rid of him, I hadn’t really stopped to think about what it’ll be like when she does. Tink’s been in our family for eleven years. I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t there to slink around my legs, or sit on my lap as I do my homework, or wake me up by rubbing his head against my jaw and meowing for food.

  Keira holds her toy bunny out to me. ‘Do you want tae take Barry tonight, Brodes? It helps.’

  If Jake had asked me that, I’d tell him to piss off and stop patronizing me. But as it’s Keira, and I know she’s not taking the mick, I just smile and gently toss it back at her.

  ‘Think I’m a bit old for Barry, Kei. Thanks, though.’ I ruffle her hair. It was already mussed up, but she scowls and smoothes it down. ‘Get some sleep.’

  I go to brush my teeth, ignoring Dad’s ‘goodnight’ as I come out of the bathroom, then head to my room. Jake is sitting on my bed, stroking Tink for the first time in about a decade. The lump in my throat swells. The thought of having to say goodbye to that stupid grumpy face, of having to drop him off in some animal shelter where nobody’ll know that he likes having his whiskers stroked with a toothbrush or that his favourite food is cheese . . . it shouldn’t bother me this much, but it does.

  Jake stands up. His hands slide into the pockets of his school trousers.

  ‘I talked to Amir,’ he says, rolling back on the balls of his feet. ‘They can take Tink after New Year, if you’re OK with that. His mum’s been wanting to get a cat for ages, anyway, and they’ve got a huge garden. That way you can still visit him.’

  His voice is all slow and steady, like he’s been rehearsing what to say. That just pisses me off even more. I can picture him and Mam scheming behind my back, discussing how to manage my reaction as if I’m some temperamental toddler.

  ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘They can have him. But I’m hardly gonnae get the bus up to Morningside to go visit a cat.’

  ‘You could come with me. I’m there all the time.’

  ‘Aye, like that won’t be weird.’ I sit down and scoop Tink up. He wriggles in my arms a bit, but he doesn’t jump away. ‘Besides, wouldnae want to embarrass you in front of your friend.’

  ‘What are you talking about? You wouldn’t embarrass me,’ Jake says, but I know it’s not true. He’s never brought any friends home, and he gets all stiff and awkward when we go to his school for his plays or concerts or awards ceremonies. ‘For God’s sake, Brody, will you just . . . I’m just trying to . . .’

  He breaks off, mumbling something under his breath, then throws up his hands and goes back to the computer. He doesn’t get it. He never has. His life is on one track, and mine and Keira’s are on another. As the years have gone by, they’ve overlapped less and less.

  Soon, they’re barely going to touch at all.

  Around Christmas, real life gets in the way of our trips to Everland: Nico’s going to his mum’s in Spain for the holidays, Zahra to visit her cousins in Birmingham and London, and Miyumi to perform in Saint Petersburg, so they won’t make it there for a couple of weeks. We decide to throw a winter party on the last Thursday before they leave – or rather, Nico decides, Zahra and I agree, and Kasia reluctantly promises to make an appearance.

  When we walk through the door that Thursday, it’s like falling forward six months: the sky is bright blue, and the air is so warm that I have to peel off the arctic fox mask I made at the weekend. But as soon as we cross the bridge, this time into a wide square with a decorative fountain of carved stone fish, it starts to snow.

  It’s never snowed in Everland before, or at least not when I’ve visited. The flakes are bigger than I’ve ever seen – perfect white circles the size of 50p coins, spinning in quick spirals towards the ground. Nico takes a step forward, beneath one of the street lamps, and holds his palms up. He’s dressed up as one of the three wise men, though to me, he’s more like a young Dumbledore: a long, wine-red cloak embroidered with stars, moons and suns, and a bushy brown beard, which he has to keep pulling down to talk. It looks like a movie scene: Harry Potter meets Narnia meets Miracle on 34th Street.

  ‘Snow,’ he says, beaming. ‘This is actual snow!’

  It’s only been a few seconds, but already a thick, white blanket is covering the square. I haven’t seen anything like this since one Christmas at my grandparents’ when I was wee. And in the city, any snow we get mostly just turns to greyish slush pretty fast.

  None of us are really dressed for winter weather; Dani’s even come from South American summer in shorts and a T-shirt. But somehow, the snow here doesn’t bite into your skin and leave you shivering like it does in the outside world. It just feels sort of tingly, a bit like pins and needles. When Miyumi appears around the corner, her face lights up.

 

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