by Tom Ellen
She went quiet for a second. ‘Er, yeah, OK . . . What?’
We both looked around us. ‘Maybe Caribbean Soc?’ she suggested, pointing at a table with a huge Jamaican flag behind it, where a small white guy with matted blonde dreadlocks was nodding his head to a Bob Marley track.
‘Do you think that guy is actually Caribbean?’ I asked.
‘I’ve spoken to him already,’ she said. ‘His name is Jeremy, he’s from Guernsey. He told me that coming from a small island gives him a “Caribbean mentality”.’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Well, I think we’ll pass on Jeremy. What else is there?’
‘I dunno . . .’
I picked a balloon out of the Feminist Soc bunch. ‘OK, tell you what: I’ll flick this balloon and whichever table it lands nearest, that’s what we’ll sign up for.’
She smiled. ‘OK.’
I sent the balloon spiralling up into the air, way above the forest of heads and hands. We followed it, and watched it descend slowly on to a table surrounded by broomsticks and cheerful-looking people wearing long, flowing black robes.
Phoebe raised her eyebrows. ‘Woah. That looks quite . . . intense.’
‘No, come on!’ I said, mock-sternly. ‘We said whichever one it landed on, we had to sign up for.’ It was weird. I suddenly felt this massive urge to prove to her that I wasn’t just some boring, one-dimensional football player. That there was more to me than that. Even though, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure there is.
‘Yeah, I know we said that.’ She nodded. ‘But . . . Quidditch?’
‘The balloon has spoken, Phoebe.’
‘Balloons can’t speak, Luke. Not even in Harry Potter.’
‘The whole point of uni is to try new things, you know.’
‘You sound like my mum,’ she scoffed.
‘Well, your mum’s clearly a legend. Let’s do this.’
We wandered over to the quidditch table and I scribbled our names down on the form. A bloke with a Ron Weasley wig on told us there would be an ‘informal meet-and-greet’ this afternoon.
‘We’ve got to go,’ I told Phoebe. ‘We can’t just sign up and then wuss out.’
‘Well, technically, we could do that . . .’ she whispered.
‘No, we’ve put our names down now. We’ve got to go at least once.’ I stuck out my hand. ‘Shake on it?’
She grinned. ‘OK, OK. I’ll be there.’
We shook hands. Then we swapped numbers, but as I put my phone back in my pocket, I felt it buzzing again. I took it out and, with a little flutter of relief, saw that it wasn’t Abbey. It was a landline.
I answered it. ‘Hello?’ said a woman’s voice. ‘Luke? Luke, this is Sally.’ There was a pause. ‘Abbey’s mum.’
g!’
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 l
ooked 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, acc
ompanied 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.
