But just as the orange blaze of a campfire flickered into view between the trees, a bird perched on a nearby branch began to squawk and flap its wings. It set off an almost identical-looking one on a tree a few paces away, and then another one beyond that. Within a couple of seconds, there was a cacophony of cawing, and the din of the encampment went quiet.
Then the rustling in the underbrush intensified, and a panic settled over Yorick. Because the people in the camp were now the least of their worries.
Chapter10
Amy
In the cruellest of ironies, my teenage dream of being Phil Owen’s girlfriend had come true, but I didn’t get to enjoy it, because it wasn’t real. In fact, it started out downright clinical, with the creation of four rules.
Rule one was mine: no unnecessary PDA.
“Don’t be naive,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Have you never seen a rom-com? There will be mistletoe somewhere.”
“Phil, it’s June. We couldn’t be further from mistletoe.”
“Then a one-bed trope at the very least.”
My mouth went dry at the thought of sharing a bed with him. I couldn’t think of why that would come up, but he was right– if we didn’t think about it, the universe would almost certainly force us to deal with it at one point or another.
“That’s why I saidunnecessaryPDA,” I said. “I don’t need you hanging all over me.” I pulled a face, hoping to communicate disgust at the idea, but really, I just didn’t want to get confused like I had the other night at the bar. I wasn’t convinced I’d be able to keep things straight if the snuggling and hip hugging and kissing became a regular occurrence.
Phil looked affronted but agreed anyway; no unnecessary PDA.
Rule two was about dating other people. For the duration, we would be exclusive. This meant I couldn’t date anyone, of course, though that was no skin off my back given my complete lack of romantic life. But it also meant Phil had to give up “swipe time” and his Saturday night dates.
He agreed to this more readily than I’d expected, saying that it really didn’t make sense to let it continue in a small town like ours if we’d any hopes of maintaining the illusion.
Which brought us to rule three.
“We haven’t exactly spent a lot of time together, just the two of us,” I said. “When are we supposed to have gotten together?”
“You heard your brother,” Phil said. “As far as he knows, we’ve been spending every Saturday together when you’ve been here with Ethel.”
That was true, though there was one witness who could contradict that.
“Won’t Ethel know that’s not true?”
Phil’s face fell. “I mean, I hate to say it, but…”
“You think she won’t remember?” Yikes. It did suck to admit, but it was probably true.
“Probably not. We can fix it when it comes up if she does, but I suspect she won’t look that closely at it anyway.”
I tapped my finger against the table, thinking. “So when did we get together?”
We decided to keep a shared note on our phones called “Our Lore”. If either of us made something up about the relationship, we would add it to the note so the other person didn’t get caught off guard. So when we decided we’d been together for just two months– any longer and it would have been rude not to fill in our friends and families– into the note it went.
And then finally, the fourth rule, which was the mostpractical, but somehow felt the most uncomfortable to talk about. When we broke up after my trial with my dad ended, we’d need to do so in a way that didn’t make either of us the bad guy. That made it plausible that we could continue to exist as friends. So we’d work together for the next three months to come up with something that made sense.
By the time we’d agreed on our rules, I had to leave; I hadn’t exactly gotten permission to drive Mum’s car, and I knew she had book club in an hour. Phil walked me inside where I said goodbye to Ethel, and she thanked me for the pretty new crystal, requesting a blue one next time. I immediately thought of blue calcite and kicked myself for not having brought it sooner; calcite was the stone of the mind, and I was pretty sure I had a blue one on my dresser. I promised her I would bring it on Saturday.
“I’ll be camping,” Phil reminded me, and my smile slipped. That stupid fucking camping trip. “But why don’t you come to the pub quiz tomorrow?”
I scrunched up my nose. I hadn’t realised those plans had solidified; no one had told me. “I’m rubbish at trivia.”
“So?” he said with a shrug. “Me too. Besides, the point isn’t to show off our general knowledge. It’s to hang out. I think it would make sense for my girlfriend to be there, don’t you?”
Ethel watched our conversation, looking back and forth between Phil and me as we spoke, her face a picture of glee. I felt a pang in my side– would it feel like betrayal every time we pretended in front of people we loved? If so, it would be a looooong summer.
