He exaggeratedly nods his head right back at me and gestures with his hand for me to follow him, but I put my hands up and shake my head. “No, thank you.”
He stands up straight, then plants his hands on his hips; he tips his head forward, then throws it back, but I still don’t move.
Hayleigh giggles next to me. “Just go out there.”
I turn to her as my mouth drops open. “I thought you hated them?”
She places her hand on my back, encourages me forward as the audience shouts louder for me to get up. “Go on, they’re not so bad.”
“If I die by the hands of a clown, I will haunt you forever.” I point my finger at her before standing up.
The audience goes nuts as I climb over the barrier and join the Bozo’s. One of them walks up to me with a small brush in his hands, something white in the bristles. Before I realise what’s happening, the clown swipes the brush over my face, and when I look back towards Hayleigh, her phone is up in her hands and pointing right at me, her face split into the broadest smile.
Suddenly, it doesn’t matter that I’m making an idiot of myself. I’ll do it a thousand times over if it means making her smile.
**********
Walking into Hayleigh’s childhood home is a bit of a shock to the system, and nothing like my home growing up. Our house was lived-in and chaotic, clean yet messy at the same time. Mum would draw on the doorframes each year to show how much we had grown, and Dad would teach us how to ride our bikes in the garden.
This place feels cold and detached, and my heart cracks at the image of a smaller Hayleigh and her sister, unable to run about, screaming and laughing. Everything is a different shade of grey and white as if no other colours exist in the place.
Except Hayleigh.
She walks in ahead of me but stops short when an older woman walks down the stairs, her heels clicking underneath her.She comes into view, and immediately, I know this is Hayleigh’s mother because the resemblance is striking.
While Hayleigh has a rich brunette colour to her hair, which she lets fall freely, her mother's hair is entirely grey and is pinned back. She wears a fitted white suit with silver heels, which finally come to a stop when she hits the floor.
Her eyes flicker to me and widen for a fraction before narrowing and cutting to Hayleigh. “We have a family dinner, Hayleigh. Who is your…friend?”
Hayleigh steps back and links her arm through mine. “This is Nate. He’ll be staying for dinner, that isn’t a problem, is it, mother? I’ve told him how gracious Morgana Wallcroft is.”
Even from where I’m standing, there’s a visible tick in Morgana’s jaw and a twitch in her left eye, yet she pastes a smile on her face that’s closer to a grimace as she clips. “Of course.” She turns on her heels and walks away before stopping and turning around to face us. “Don’t forget, Hayleigh, I invited Bennington and his parents over. So, do make sure you look presentable for once.”
Hayleigh stiffens next to me, but she doesn’t respond to her mother. Her arm tightens around mine, and she nods once. Morgana tips her head and walks away, and I can’t help but wonder if I were right in the middle of some silent struggle for power.
We stand there for a few minutes more before I unlink my arm and face Hayleigh, holding onto both of her upper arms. I get in her line of vision so she can clearly see me, but her eyes are cast downwards.
“Hayleigh.” She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut as colour creeps into her cheeks, and I quickly realise she’s embarrassed. “I want you to know that what she says doesn’t matter. It doesn’t hold any weight, not really, not if you don’t want it to.”
Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I’ve tried so hard to tune her out, Nate, but it doesn’t work, and now she’s invited someone over so she can matchmake; it’s too much.” Her voice is low, almost defeated.
I wrap her in my arms. “I don’t give two flying fucks who she is; she doesn’t get to make you feel like you’re less, Hayleigh. I won’t let that happen.”
She sniffles into my chest as she tries to burrow closer. “She’s good at making sure everyone in that room knows who she is and how little they mean. I’m sorry she was rude to you. Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all.”
My mum always taught me to respect my elders and be polite, yet I have a feeling tonight’s dinner isn’t going to go as Morgana plans.
I tell her. “Don’t worry, tonight will go just fine. I promise. You can do this, Hayleigh, you can stand up for yourself.”
**********
Usually, parents love me. I’m charming and easy to talk to, I can be funny and respectful, but right now, Morgana and Frank Wallcroft are looking at me like I’ve just stepped onto the table and taken a dump right in the middle of it.
I wanted to be sitting next to Hayleigh, but of course, her mother sat her across from me and placed good old Benny next to her. Morgana and Frank take opposite ends of the table; to my left are Thea and her fiancé, Rupert, and to my right are Rupert's parents, while Benny’s parents sit on the opposite side.
The table is big and comfortably fits us all, but it looks sterile. Everything on top is a dazzling white except for the silverware and crystal glasses. The room itself is a darker grey with pure white curtains and dark grey wooden flooring. There are no flowers on the table, and the room itself feels cold.
Hayleigh catches my eye and gives me a small smile, which I return with a wink. She stifles a giggle, and my attention is drawn to my right, where Morgana slams down her fork.
