Last Bus to Everland, page 19
He smiles to himself. I can almost see the memories playing out in his head. A different time. For him, a very different life.
‘Well, don’t worry,’ I mutter. ‘I’ll no be jetting off to Peru any time soon.’
‘Not if you don’t get your act together, you won’t.’ He rolls up the poem and taps my head with it. ‘Keep this nonsense up, and you’ll be lucky to get as far as Prestonpans, let alone Peru.’
And stupid as it sounds, that’s what changes my mind. Those two sentences, tossed out like pennies to a fountain, are what finally change my mind.
It’s not about Peru. I’ve never even imagined going that far. It’s the fact that Dad’s right. Jake is going to go to Cambridge and then to London or New York or Hong Kong or wherever the hell he wants to go, and I’ll be stuck here. Megan’ll probably move away for university, and when she does, she’ll forget about me – that’s if we’re even still friends by then. All I have is Everland, and Nico. Without them . . . I don’t even know what the point would be.
Dad laughs afterwards. ‘I’m only kidding you on, Brody. You know there’s other options. School and exams aren’t everything. You’ll be fine.’ He ruffles my hair. ‘And listen, me and your mam – we’re proud of you no matter what.’
I nod, the computer screen blurring as my eyes unfocus. Those are the words I’ve wanted to hear for ages, but now they barely reach my ears. The decision has crystallized. Everland is my place.
Everland is what I choose.
I’d forgotten what Beltane was until Nico mentioned it the other week: a fire festival on Calton Hill, some ancient pagan thing celebrating the May Day festival. Walking along Waterloo Place, I pass people painted head to toe in red or blue, eerie figures in long white robes, a woman wearing a floral headdress that’s almost as tall as she is. Nico’s come dressed as some sort of deer: there’s a delicate crown of twigs twisted into antlers on his head, and he’s wearing strips of faux fur over his shoulders and around his wrists and ankles. Kasia’s waiting beside him at the foot of the steps, wearing white face paint and a tunic decorated with flowers, while a short person covered in blue and green rags stands to Nico’s right. My smile cracks even wider when I recognize her: Zahra.
‘Brody!’ She pushes up on her tiptoes and throws her arms around my neck. ‘It’s so good to see you!’
‘You too. I’ve missed you on Thursdays.’
Her face is painted turquoise, with deep indigo swirls on her cheeks. I tug on one of the green rags, laid over her hijab like strips of seaweed.
‘This doesnae look like your usual kind of costume.’
‘I’m a water creature,’ she says. ‘Nico’s earth, and Kasia’s one of the White Women. It’s all part of the story – you’ll see when we get up on the hill.’
Nico flashes me a smile. ‘Don’t worry, I made you one too. Probably my finest – and final – work, if I do say so myself.’
He pulls a plastic bag out from under his cape and hands it to me. Inside, there’s a gold mask shaped like a bird’s beak, and a pile of soft material. As I hold it up to the light, my mouth falls open. It’s a cape, shaped like a ‘W’ to look like bird wings and covered in hundreds of tiny coloured feathers: bright copper at the top, fading into a warm bronze, and ending in a soft gold fringe. Out of all of Nico’s costumes, this one is the best, the most professional. It must have taken him hours – much longer than his own deer outfit.
‘Here – you wear it like this.’
Nico takes the cape from me, throws it around my shoulders, and fastens the tie into a knot between my collarbones. Zahra nudges Kasia, and they make their way up the steps to the hill, leaving us alone. For a minute I just stand there, lifting my wing-arms, watching the way the light from the street lamps catches on the feathers. I feel like Harry Potter putting on his invisibility cloak. Like nothing can touch me in this.
‘This is amazing,’ I say. ‘It’s unbelievable.’
He picks up my wrists and slips them through two fabric ties on the corners of the cape. ‘Figured you’d make a good air creature. And I wanted to give you your own pair of wings.’
His voice sounds different. Almost shy, which is so unlike Nico. I put the mask on and run a hand over the feathers. I thank him, and then a second and a third time, but it still doesn’t feel like enough.
Then I realize what I can give him in return: my decision.
Before I can tell him, he cocks his head towards the steps.
‘We’d better catch up with Zahra and Kasia or we’ll never find them again. It’s kind of chaotic up there.’
Maybe it’s down to the cape, or the fact it’s dark and no one will be able to see who I am in this mask, but something makes me reach out and take his hand. I sense a tiny twitch of surprise before he slides his fingers through mine. As we walk up the hill, his voice goes back to its usual upbeat tone: he tells me about the party he went to last night, and about a guy in his art class who turned in a shoebox of air for his assignment.
I am listening. But I kind of can’t stop looking at our hands.
Nico wasn’t exaggerating when he used the word ‘chaotic’. Calton Hill is on fire. Strange pagan symbols burn between the pillars of the National Monument; a giant bonfire crackles and spits smoke into the night sky; performers carry flaming torches or swing fireballs around their heads. Nico and I squeeze through the crowd and find Kasia and Zahra watching a man in a cape chase away some bird-like characters blowing on horns and tin whistles. Over the noise, Zahra points out the main characters to me: the May Queen, wearing a white robe and a huge headpiece of flowers; and the Green Man, a tall, dreadlocked guy wrapped in garlands of leaves. A band of dancers and drummers follow them in a long, colourful procession, some of them wearing nothing but loincloths. Nico fakes a gasp and puts his hands over my eyes as they pass by. I laugh and push him away.
‘They must be freezing their tits off!’ he shouts, shivering. He reaches into his robe and pulls out a silver hipflask. ‘It’s almost May – how the hell is it this cold? I won’t miss that when I’m living in Everland.’
He unscrews the top, takes a swig of whisky, then hands the flask to me. It tastes like rotten peat and burns the back of my mouth, but it does warm me up. Kasia gives me a disapproving look – clearly she’s a stickler for rules in this world, too, and I’m the only one of us who’s under eighteen – then takes out her own bottle of vodka and glugs from it.
Zahra has been watching Nico with a panicked expression. ‘You’re not really serious about that, are you? You’re not actually going to stay in Everland?’
‘It’s nuts,’ Kasia says. ‘I don’t know how you can do it, Nico. To your parents. To us.’
‘Guys, come on.’ Nico’s voice goes flat. He takes another long drink of whisky, his eyes fixed on the procession: two of the characters are now setting fire to a huge arch spanning the path, while the May Queen lifts her hands above it as if in prayer. ‘Did you just come here to talk about how messed up I am? Tonight wasn’t supposed to be about that.’
‘Nobody said you were—’ Zahra starts to protest, but Nico holds his hands up.
‘Enough! I came here to watch the show and worship the May Queen or whatever. We can talk about this later.’
We follow the procession around the hill, watching the fire-throwers and the bird-people and the red-painted devils running amok. Before Everland, I probably would have thought all this was pretty ridiculous – fun, yeah, but daft and touristy and pretty pretentious. Now I see there’s more to it than that. I mean, don’t get me wrong – I have no clue what’s going on. But it’s obviously about preserving something, some ancient magic that’s almost been lost. Maybe some people can find it in fire festivals or rituals, or maybe old songs and stories. For me, it’s more literal. It’s Everland.
After an hour or so, I’m too hot and a bit drunk and itching to get away from the hordes of people. Zahra and I move away from the procession and sit on a grassy bank looking towards Arthur’s Seat. Behind us, Kasia is deep in drunken conversation with a tall girl from London, and Nico is dancing with two over-excited Finnish tourists.
‘Weird being up here and not going through the green door,’ I say to Zahra. ‘It’s no the same without you in there, y’know.’
Zahra gives a sad smile. ‘It was hard, but it was the right decision. After I stopped going there every week, I realized I had to make some changes. I talked to my dad about how much pressure I was feeling between looking after Mum and school. He can’t change jobs, but he talked to my sisters about visiting more, and he’s asked our neighbours to check in more often. He and Mum signed me up to an illustration class, too, to make sure I get some time to myself. Things are good.’
Even with her face painted bright blue, I can tell she’s looking better. Her eyes seem brighter, more alert, and she smiles more readily now. I can see the difference even if I didn’t notice there was anything wrong beforehand. Guilt prickles at me. I should have been paying more attention.
‘I thought I’d miss Everland, but I actually don’t. I miss the three of you, and Miyumi and everyone else I knew in there, but not the place. It was the right time for me to leave, even if I didn’t realize it. Now I’ve stopped going there, the whole thing just sounds so bizarre.’
Even for me, it seems unreal right now. I’ve kept catching myself looking towards the monument all night, waiting for the space between the pillars to morph into the green door. I know it happens, but tonight it feels as weird as expecting the sky to fall down.
‘Nico told me you’re thinking of staying there with him.’ Zahra presses her lips together. ‘I can’t believe he asked you that. He shouldn’t be putting ideas in your head.’
‘He never asked me. Not really.’ I shrug. ‘Anyway, it sounds all right to me. It’s no like I’ve got much keeping me here.’
‘Come on – you know that’s not true. You’ve got family, your friends . . . your whole future.’
‘What future? I have no idea what I want to do. The only thing I’m good at is drumming, and there’s basically no jobs going in that.’
‘You know it’s not that simple. What if you start forgetting things from your real life, like Esther has? What if you totally forget your family?’ Zahra shakes her head, the blue rags flapping from side to side. ‘You don’t want that, Brody. Believe me. My mum’s not going to be around forever. Neither are your parents. One day, memories are all we’ll have left.’
We’re both quiet for a moment, Zahra clearly thinking about her mum – I can tell from the way her eyes mist up – and me about what it could be like to live there. She’s right, in a way. There’s still so much I don’t know about Everland.
But there are so many things I do know, too. I know that time stops in there, that there’s no pressure to grow up or carve out a future in a world that’s working against you. I know that there’s a sort of balance that’s missing from the real world. I know that you can’t get hurt in there. That there’s nobody making fun of you or telling you that everything about you is wrong. That feeling I get, of wishing I could crawl out of my own skin and be somebody else . . . I never get that in Everland.
Behind us, the Finnish tourists have now disappeared, and Kasia and the Londoner are kissing on a bench further up the bank. I tell Zahra I’ll be back in a minute, then jog over the grass to meet Nico, leaving my bird mask on the bench. When I reach him, I take a deep breath and gently take his hand again.
‘I’ve made my mind up.’
Behind him, the bird people give a blast of their horns. Nico cups his hand around his ear. I lean towards him: my top lip is level with his bottom one, and the tips of our noses are only millimetres apart.
‘I’m going to stay!’ I say louder. ‘I’m going to stay in Everland. I want . . . I want to stay there. With you.’
Nico looks at me. There’s ash on his cheeks, flames licking in his eyes. His antlers are lopsided, and his make-up is smudged, and his cheeks are a bit gaunt after all the partying he’s been doing, but he still looks beautiful.
For a moment, his whole face lights up. Even after knowing him all these months, that look can still make my heart do somersaults. If I wasn’t already sure that I loved him, I’d know it tonight. He moves closer, suddenly serious.
‘Brody, that’s . . . It’s a huge decision.’
‘I know. But it’s what I want.’ I nod again. ‘We can go this Thursday. I’m ready if you are.’
His gaze floats towards the monument. The Celtic symbols are starting to burn out, glowing a bright orange against the slate grey of the sky. Everything around us is noise and colour and fire, but it almost feels like we’re alone here: the eye of the storm, surrounded by chaos.
He puts his hands on my face. ‘You’ll have to be sure. Completely, completely sure. After the door disappears, there’ll be no going back.’
I look at him: at his dark brown eyes, bleary from the alcohol; at the freckles scattered across his cheeks and the hesitant smile tugging at his lips. I’m sure.
Instead of saying it, I lean in, and I finally kiss him.
There’s a split second of hesitation, and then he kisses me back. I’ve thought about this moment a thousand, million times. It’s like I imagined, and different, and better. He tastes of cigarettes and whisky and chewing gum, dirty and sweet at the same time. His bottom lip is chapped, but the top one is soft, his fingers smooth as they slide over the back of my neck and into my hair. I put my hands on his waist and pull him closer to me, amazed that this is happening, that I finally get to do this. It’s almost like being in Everland: it doesn’t quite feel real, and I don’t know how long it’s been when we eventually break apart. I just know I don’t want it to end.
After a moment, Nico leans back to look at me, his arms linked around my neck. I can’t stop grinning. He smiles – a different kind of smile, softer than usual.
‘Well,’ he says lightly. ‘That seems pretty sure.’
‘I am.’ My whole body is sparkling with happiness. ‘Totally.’
I lean in to kiss him again, but suddenly, a very drunk Kasia appears. Nico steps back, his hands dropping to his sides before reaching out to catch her.
‘T-think I need to go h-home,’ she says, hiccupping. It’s weird seeing her – serious, straight-laced Kasia – like this. ‘I miiight have thrown up. London girl was n-not impressed.’
Nico gives her a wry smile, enjoying being the more sober one for once. ‘All right, babe – we’ll get you back.’
I don’t want to go. I want to stay here, keep kissing him all night. Nico mouths ‘sorry’ at me then leans over and pecks me on the lips. It’s not enough, but we’re not in a rush. After Thursday, we’ll have all the time in the world.
‘Thursday,’ he says, echoing my thoughts.
I don’t know if he’s talking about Everland, or picking up where we left off, or both. But with every second that passes, I’m a little more certain that this is the right decision.
Everything feels different now that I know I’m leaving.
Exams start, but I’m not as nervous as I thought I’d be. The whole thing is a bit of a blur. Music goes well (I can see from the examiner’s face that he’s impressed when I perform my drum piece), but in Spanish I spend so long looking in the dictionary that I run out of time to answer all the questions, and in English I zone out during the critical reading paper. To be honest, it doesn’t really worry me. It’s hard to care that much when I’ll be disappearing into Everland soon.
There are other things I need to sort out before I go, though. How I’m going to say goodbye to my family is one. All this mess with Megan is another.
I wait for her outside her Geography exam on Wednesday. She looks knackered: pale and tired and stressed. Her face darkens when she sees me. She shifts her backpack on to her shoulder and brushes past me. I hurry to catch up with her.
‘I’m sorry,’ I blurt out. ‘For snapping at you. For ignoring you. You were right. I’ve been shit.’
She keeps walking, her eyes fixed straight ahead. ‘Yep. You have been.’
‘I know. And I’m sorry. I really am. It was nothing personal, Meg. I’ve just been . . . distracted.’
Me and Megan have had a few spats before, but nothing like this. Usually she gets excited about something and forgets she’s supposed to be in a mood with me, or I force myself not to think about it and pretend everything’s fine. This time, her expression doesn’t fade. She stops by the vending machines at the end of the corridor and crosses her arms.
‘You don’t take me seriously,’ she says, her eyes fixed on the chocolate and crisps behind the glass. ‘It’s like you think that because I talk a lot, I don’t have anything to say. That because I’ve liked a lot of guys, I don’t have proper feelings. That because my parents have more money than yours, my home life is some shiny sitcom.’
‘I’ve never said any of that,’ I say quickly. But I have thought it. Maybe not as harshly as that, but that’s more or less the gist.
She keeps staring straight ahead. ‘Did you know I’ve been seeing a counsellor and a nutritionist? I collapsed after school two weeks ago, the same week you were suspended. I hadn’t eaten anything in a day and half. Harry had to take me to hospital. I was in there overnight by myself – Dad was away and my mum’s car broke down, or so she says. It’s been shit. And you haven’t been there for any of it.’
I stare at her, my mouth open. In a flash, it all comes back to me: Megan picking at pizza toppings, pulling crumbs off her sandwiches, telling me to finish her chips, her crisps, her lasagne. I remember her telling me that she wasn’t hungry, that she’d already eaten, that she was going out for dinner later, that she didn’t want to ruin her appetite. They weren’t so much clues as huge red flags, and yet I still missed them.
‘I didnae know.’ My face is getting red, a mixture of anger and shame. Anger because she’s accusing me of being such a bad friend, and shame because there is some truth to what she’s saying. ‘You never told me.’
