Page 35 of The Fall I Fell

‘Why are you in here? I thought you always worked better in the treehouse.’

That’s where I’d do all of my homework. I never worked better out there per se, it was just a good excuse to tell Granny and Grandad so I could sneak off and hope to bump into Jacob. Which is exactly the opposite of what I want to do now.

‘It’s too cold this time of year,’ I lie. ‘Plus, the wind would mess up my papers.’

‘Ah yes, all of your perfectly organised notes.’ He gives a pointed look at the pile beside me. The papers look like they have already been lifted and set back down by a tornado. ‘Wouldn’t want those getting out of order.’

I sigh and sprawl out on the carpet, not worrying about the fact my limbs push my drawings even further out of place.

Callum finally gets to the point of his presence. ‘Mum wanted to know if you need a shower before tonight so she can put the hot water on.’

I frown at him in reply. ‘Tonight?’ I question. I was expecting to not move from this position for another six hours before I dragged myself to bed fully clothed. As I have done the last three nights.

‘The party?’ he replies with a tone that would imply that I am, in fact, an idiot. But when I still look perplexed, he continues. ‘The Halloween Party? At Hope Farm? Come on, don’t tell me you forgot. It’s like the biggest night of the year.’

I had forgotten. I had instructed my brain to throw out any thoughts involving Jacob and that evidently meant that the Halloween party was taken out with the trash. So focused on trying to get a grip on the one thing I can sort of control in my life, I threw myself into fashion, and everything else has fallen by the wayside.

‘Oh, yeah. I don’t think I’ll bother this year.’

Callum looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head and it’s just told him to fuck off.

‘Not bother?’ he says, genuinely offended. ‘Right, what’s going on? You’re being weird.’

‘Nothing,’ I say, in a pitch that’s definitely higher than I intended. I regulate, then try again. ‘I’m just not feeling up to it this year. I’ve got too much to do, and no costume.’

‘Come on Ava, it’s the one night you let your hair down. We can go and just be kids again. I’m sure Sian will have a sneaky apple bobbing station she’s set up without the boys knowing. You know you want to see me thrash you as usual.’

My twin sure knows which buttons of mine to press and I narrow my eyes at him. ‘As if. I’m way better than you.’

Callum chuckles, before turning deadly serious. ‘It’s on.’

Shaking my head, I stifle a smile. ‘I don’t know, it just all feels weird this year.’

‘It’s Halloween. The one night a year it’s supposed to feel weird.’ He nudges me with his food and I slap it away playfully. ‘Come on! You know you’ll enjoy it when you’re there.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ I say after a brief pause.

‘Perfect. I’ll need you to sew me into my costume at 6:30, please.’ He hops up from the armchair and practically skips out of the room, knowing full well I’ll be too nosey to miss out.

How is it that you can dread something at the same time as longing for it?

The Hope Farm Halloween party has always held a special place in my heart, but each year, change comes with it. From apple bobbing and toffee apples, to alcopops and strangers; I dread to think what this year will bring. And yet, there is a niggle of anticipation I feel when I imagine the smell of the bonfire smoke as the crisp autumn evening draws in shades of red and gold, and the sky is lit by stars and sparks aplenty. The urge to wrap my hands around a sparkler, watching it dance in front of me in a dazzling display is enough to leave me transfixed, at both eight and eighteen. My desire to breathe in that molten metallic aroma that only arises this time of year, is still as strong as ever.

Looking at my old costume laid out by Grandad in what must have been an act of muscle memory, I wonder if we’re all too old for this now. Will anyone actually dress up? What are you supposed to wear to a Halloween party when you’re too old and too self-conscious for children’s costumes?

Jacob has probably thrown his costume out. Thinking of him makes my foot sting in a painful reminder of a few nights ago, and my foolish hope that he would be waiting for me. Littered with splinters from my quick getaway, I’ve been limping around the house all week, too afraid to tell anyone the truth. Mum has me booked in for an appointment with a physiotherapist for my apparent plantar fasciitis, whatever that means.

Each step is a reminder that he doesn’t need me any more. A reminder that I am the worst friend in the world, thinking a guy with a girlfriend would look at me twice. I hated girls in stories that were like me – dumb, blind, and constantly forgetting the key rules of girl code. And yet, when he looks at me, I fall all over again, and all common sense I thought I had goes out of the window.

This time, I’m not going to be blind. Thankfully I have the physical proof of his ambivalence towards me, a constant reminder in the form of a sharp shooting pain that he is taken, and I won’t be that girl.

‘Christ.’ Lizzie’s voice startles me from the doorway. ‘I’ve watched you stare at that costume for a solid five minutes without moving. Are you going to put it on or not?’ She’s dressed as Gollum, bald cap, false teeth and all. At least she never changes.

‘How long have you been standing there?’ I ask once I’m over the initial shock of both her unexpected entrance and her interesting appearance.

She shrugs and takes out her teeth to take a bite of a strawberry lace. ‘Long enough. I’ve been waiting for you, and you’re not even bloody dressed.’

‘You’re lucky I have any clothes on at all with you sneaking around like a creep.’