Page 3 of Yearning Difficulties

‘Uh huh. Point still stands, Red. Bad choice of boyfriend. You have a terrible track record.’

‘Off the line, please. Unless you want to drive away the only remaining host so there’s just dead air.’

‘An improvement for Radio Panache.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Point of information, for any students still listening to our first show of the autumn. My dad, Seth Blass, is holding auditions for his weekly Lake Pristine Medieval Faire, which opens this Saturday for the autumn season. As many of you know, my dear old dad is the social events co-ordinator on Lake Pristine Council. He’s a great guy and he needs knights, ladies and volunteers for this season’s faire. Get your butts down to the bandstand tonight by four p.m.’

‘BYOL. Bring your own lances. You know, for jousting.’

I flushed at Killian’s interjection. ‘Get off the line!’

The disembodied voice laughed heartily before hanging up.

Two

Swordplay

Today’s Track: ‘Hand Grenade’ by Hedley

I found the caller in question at lunchtime.

Killian Bergery. Tall, broad-shouldered and sporting a mostly tidy mass of blue-black hair. He had a large nose, good skin and was generally pretty well put together. When he smiled, he sported two dimples and you would never know from looking at him that he was Satan’s apprentice, with a viperous tongue.

He was sitting with his twin and their friend Anderson Lebray, in their usual spot by the window. I picked up my tray, observing the three of them as they bantered and laughed, envying their good spirits.

It had been a couple of years now since I’d laughed with my own best friend. Max. Short for Maxine, a name she despised. She’d moved away from Lake Pristine and her sudden absence at school was ultimately what drove me to fall in with Dave and his friends.

Killian and his group now sat at the table where Max and I had always eaten lunch.

I was about to join the line for food, when my ex-boyfriend’s loud, booming voice suddenly disrupted the patter of the canteen.

‘Where is he?!’

I watched Killian freeze, a burger halfway to his mouth. He clearly knew who’d bellowed the words, but he winced as the entire student body of Lake Pristine fell into an expectant hush at the prospect of a public scene.

‘Oof,’ Chris said. ‘Maybe time to make a run for it, Kill.’

‘No need,’ Killian said casually. His eyes landed on me for a split second before he glanced at the canteen entrance.

Dave Valvert and his ridiculous suntan scanned the large room for Killian, and his glare turned to triumph as the two of them locked eyes.

‘What can I help you with, Dave?’ asked Killian, projecting his voice across the canteen. If they wanted a show, I knew he could give them all one. It was what he was infamous for. ‘Do you need some arnica oil for . . . that?’

He gestured to Dave’s sunburn, which caused a few titters to spread throughout the room. I watched, fascinated, along with everyone else.

‘Think I didn’t know it was you?’ barked Dave, ignoring the jibe.

‘Me doing what, Dave?’ Killian asked innocently.

‘Calling the radio!’ Dave thundered.

‘Now, David,’ Killian said, getting to his feet and stepping into the centre of the room. By doing so, he turned the canteen into an amphitheatre. The room was now his stage and he was clearly ready for a performance. ‘Radio Panache is open to all students, not just you and your monotonously dulcet tones.’

When Dave looked ready to murder him, Killian added, ‘Those are big words, I know. It means you’re boring, basically.’

Someone in the room laughed out loud. Dave’s eyes darkened.

I held my breath for Killian. I knew how much Dave hated to feel humiliated. His father had been his very first bully, and now he existed purely in the realm of other people’s opinions.