I heard the scratch ofTeddy’sspade stop, andIfelt the air move behind me.Iturned around to see her sitting back on her heels, looking at me over her shoulder.
“Don’t do that,” she said, her voice sharp. “Youdon’t have to have a relationship with your parents just because mine aren’t around.”
“I know,”Isaid softly, butIfelt chastised. “Sorryagain.”
She sighed. “No, it’s fine, really,” she said. “Peopledo that all the time; they find out my mom is gone, and they feel like they have to couch every complaint about their own parents with some sort of statement of gratitude.Idated one girl a couple of years ago who would always say, ‘God, my mom pisses me off so badly, thoughIguessI’mlucky to have her.’”
I laughed, trying not to think about the fact thatI’dalready social media stalked her enough to know who she was talking about.Whydid thinking of that picture– of them together– make me feel tense now?
“Anyway,”Teddysaid, “tell me why your parents suck.”
I thought about how to articulate it to her.I’dnever really had to explain this to anyone; it hadn’t come up withLaurenor anyone elseI’ddated, andJackandPhiland their families already knew, because they’d been there for it.SoI’dnever found the words to sum things up.
“I guess my mum is just really unhappy,”Isaid, picking at a loose piece of plastic on the rim of a discarded pot. “Ithink she wanted more from her life, and she’s kind of put that on me.Soevery timeIdidn’t care about school or didn’t do what she wanted me to,I’dhear about it.”
“Sounds … overbearing?”
I huffed a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“And your dad?”Teddyasked, and she must have heard the sudden breathIsucked in, because she turned around again. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”
I shook my head. “It’sfine.”Andit was– as frustrating asTeddyhad been,Icould tell she wouldn’t hold this against me.Despiteonly having known her for a few weeks, really, and despite most of that time being antagonistic at best, she felt like a safe space.Atleast for this stuff.
“He’s just too impartial.Weget along fine, but every timeMumwould tell meIwas wasting my life, whenI’drun to my room in tears, he wasn’t there.Henever said the kinds of things she did, but he never said anything to contradict it, either.Henever stood up for me, or even let on that he disagreed.Hewas just…”
“Complicit,”Teddysaid, andInodded.
“Yeah.Exactly.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Youdeserve better than that.”
I bit back the emotion that rose up in my throat.SinceI’dnever told anyone outright about all this, no one had ever had the chance to unequivocally take my side.Notthat it meant much, sinceTeddydidn’t know them, but still.Hearingher acknowledge how much it sucked?Hearingher assert, however much of a platitude it might be, thatIdeserved better?Itmattered, for some reason.
“Thanks,”Iwhispered, then focused my attention back on the courgette plant in my hand.
We worked next to each other in silence for a long time after that, and neither of us rushed to fill it.Itwas easy; companionable, even.Ididn’t move to frame the shot or document the moment, either, my phone staying in my pocket.Icould appreciate the fact that, for the first time,Iwasn’t toe-to-toe withTeddy.Wewere back-to-back now, working together instead of against one another, andIliked it a lot better that way.
Chapter13
Calamity
They’d been sent on a bloody fetch quest.
Despite the fact thatTheVarjo’screw had nearly levelled them,Calamityand her friends were being asked to ignore that particular threat for now.Sofar, theAdventurersGuildhad been supportive of the investigation intoTheTwelve, but the new guild master– a small man namedOvinorSaudane– was less understanding.He’dslunk in to them as they’d patched their wounds, claiming they’d drawn too much attention and needed to “earn their keep”.Hehad explained that they were to retrieve a dangerous artefact known as theShadowshardand return it to theAdventurersGuild, keeping it out of the hands of a powerful man, and, in the meantime, the guild would decide the best course of action againstTheTwelve.
“Who knows,”Saudanesaid, as the party grumbled and rolled their eyes, “maybe the artefact will be helpful.”
They’d been given next to no information about the artefact, only what it looked like– a black crystal shard, no bigger than a gold coin, on a delicate silvery chain– and who was rumoured to have it– a wealthy merchant namedEliesJosse, famous for being near-permanently drunk.Withjust these insights, they’d been sent to the city ofSouthhelm, four days’ ride away, which sat in the saddle of the mountains that divided the continent.
There had been a question of what to do with their newcomer.Calamityhad assumedNashalawould disappear or go back toTrulnurothafter the fight was over, but, when she didn’t,Saudaneinsisted that the party could use as much back-up as possible.Fornow, it seemed the warrior was here to stay.Calamitydidn’t trust her, though.
And she wasn’t just a warrior, it turned out.Nashalawas only a bloodymonkofTrulnuroth.Calamityhadn’t been around monks all that much– she didn’t run in those sorts of circles– but she’d always found them to be … well, buzzkills.AndNashalawasn’t exactly proving herself an exception.
“WhatIdon’t understand,”Nashalasaid, as she sidled her chestnut-coloured mare up toCalamity’sbay gelding, “is how you could judge any pursuit to be worthier than serving your father.”
Calamity couldn’t help her sharp intake of breath– she still hadn’t addressed the whole “thePrinceofPandemoniumis my dad” thing with her friends yet.
“Hmm,Idon’t know,” she said, bringing her finger to her mouth in a show of consideration. “MaybeIdon’t love the idea of bringing about an age of torment for the entire world?”
