“Say no more! If it’ll mean a lot to Nate, I’ll find him a Curly Wurly!”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
NATE
Of course Mum wouldn’t uphold her side of the bargain. I hope Jack now understands why he should never have trusted her in the first place. If there’s one thing Mum loves, it’s controlling my life at every turn, carefully manipulating it in any way that might possibly meet with the approval of Auntie Karen and my grandma.
I stomp around the festival site, looking for something to eat, and that does nothing to improve my mood. I understand it’s a festival of vegetables, but, honestly, the lack of meat is ridiculous. I know what I’m about to say is completely unacceptable and everyone will hate me, but I like meat. I love it, actually. I love steaks and burgers and fried chicken. I adore bacon. Right now, I would kill for some smoky barbecue ribs, succulent and dripping in a rich, sweet and sticky sauce. But all I’m seeing is chickpea curries, “burgers” that are actually mushrooms, tofu, and I JUST WANT TO CRY because all I want to do is sink my chops into the juicy goodness that is a Quarter Pounder with cheese and bacon.
Anyway, I’m just wandering around the site at this point, and I don’t know how long it’s been. I’m in some, I’m in some sort of trance, I think because of the lack of animal protein in my body, and I’m very weak and disorientated and confused when Elliot finds me.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I stare at him, blinking, trying to focus my eyes. “I thought I could smell hot dogs,” I mutter.
“I have something you might like,” Elliot grins. “Ready? TA-DA!”
And there’s no way of saying this that doesn’t sound like a euphemism, but it’s totally not: Elliot pulls a Peperami from his shorts.
I swallow and stare at it.
“Everyone’s favourite salami sausage snack!” Elliot says.
“Oh my god.”
“Would you like it?”
“Where did you get it from? Actually, I don’t care, yes! Please. Yes, I would very much like your Peperami.”
Elliot glances around us furtively, clearly aware that this is contraband and could get us in trouble. He passes it to me, super casual, like it’s just a carrot or celery stick or something. “Quick, though!” he hisses.
I mean, of course I’m quick. No sooner have I peeled open the foil wrapping, than that thing is in my mouth and I’ve basically swallowed it whole, immediately feeling the restorative power of dead flesh. Go ahead, judge me.
“Oh, yes,” I groan. “Thank you, Elliot.” I lick my lips. “Mmmm.”
“OK, cool,” Elliot says. “So, there’s live music on the main stage, like, right now, and since that’s the whole point of being here, do you fancy it? Or, if not, there’s an actual funfair at the far end of the site which looks cool, or there’s a stone painting workshop, and, huh, there’s still the interactive cucumber exhibition, which, I’ll be honest, does intrigue me, and—”
I put my hand on his shoulder to stop him. “Let’s do the music tent,” I say.
He nods, grins, and makes a couple of little pretend jabs at my stomach with his fists. “Yabba dabba doo!”
I smile. “Yabba dabba doo, indeed.”
The area in front of the main stage is rammed, but Elliot and I manage to snake our way into a good spot in the middle. The music is nineties stuff, because that’s basically the main clientele at this festival, but I don’t mind because a lot of the tunes are classics. Currently, some band is doing a cover of “Movin’ On Up” by Primal Scream, and it’s beautifully loud, and I don’t know whether it’s so loud the happy tune is somehow permeating into my very soul, or whether it’s the blissed-up crowd and the infectious contentment of this place, but this warmth floods my body, this relief, this lightness, and I felt it yesterday, and again now, and I think the word might be joy. And I realize that it doesn’t matter if this festival isn’t what I’d been expecting; I’m here with Jack and Elliot, and together, we’ll have the best time because it’s not about the where, it’s about the who, the people you’re with, that’s what matters. I wish Jack was here because I shouldn’t have been grumpy with him, and I want to hug him, celebrate just being here, being us.
Elliot’s right into it, hands in the air, and then the band announce they’re “changing the mood a bit” and start this beautiful version of “Perfect Day” by Lou Reed that genuinely brings a tear to my eye, and Elliot is next to me, and for the first time in a long time, stuff seems possible, and life seems happy, and maybe that’s why I do it, but I touch Elliot’s arm, and he turns to me, and I lean in, and he leans in, and we start kissing.
And we kiss for a fair bit of time.
Then we break off, and I glance over his shoulder, and Jack’s standing there, just staring at us, mouth open, eyes wide, randomly holding ten Curly Wurlys.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
JACK
I really don’t mean to stare at Nate and Elliot kissing like some sort of perv, but I can’t tear myself away. It’s like I’m … I’m frozen, I don’t know why, but everything and everyone around me is in slow motion and greyed out, even my heart seems to have stopped, and I swallow as Nate meets my eyes, my stomach hard, and I think it’s best to maybe leave them alone, and I start to back off, except I forgot Leila’s right behind me and I bump into her.
“Whoa!” she shouts. “I lost you for a minute there. All right, boys?”
She’s holding a stack of burger cartons and looks well pleased with herself.
“Hi!” Nate says, cheeks bright red.
Elliot’s looking at the ground.
I flick my eyes to Leila.
“Why’s everyone being weird?” she asks.
We all look at her and
