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64
We fall asleep to a promise of a better, more fun-filled future. When we wake again, the night sky is no longer split as though its atoms are spilling out, and sunlight instead breaks through the treetops to stream yellow morning light on us. Everyone else is awake, though seemingly only just, as they yawn and rub their eyes in the new dawn.
Finlay pulls a chocolate bar from his blazer pocket, and I watch in drowsy amusement as I realize he’s having chocolate for breakfast. He’s halfway through peeling the wrapper when he notices us stir, and murmurs, “Mornin’, sleepyheids.”
It’s as though I’ve slept a thousand years. Maybe it’s the island magic or a trick of the mind, but I feel refreshed in a way I haven’t for a long, long time. At some point the others have tugged on their underwear, and Danny’s pulled on his school shirt, though it remains unbuttoned and gaping like a jacket, while Rory and I remain gloriously naked. Sunlight shines in Rory’s hair, turning it a strange bronze color.
I watch Finlay snap off a piece of chocolate, my mouth filling with saliva. It’s been so long since we’ve eaten anything, and again, maybe it’s the effects of the island, or just the pure carnal satisfaction of last night, but I’m not even particularly hungry. I just really, really crave sweet chocolatey goodness.
Before taking a huge bite, Finlay catches my eye and releases a defeated sigh, and passes his piece over to me. He divides the remainder of the bar into further pieces, and hands them out to the chiefs, saving the last and smallest piece for himself.
Rory places it into his mouth, lying back on his forearms. “This is nice,” he murmurs, as we all taste the same thing together. It’s rich and creamy. “What is it?”
“New vegan brand,” Finlay says, eating his piece. “Apropos o’ nothin’, I got a huge case o’ them yesterday. Sent from my mum’s office in Edinburgh.”
Rory raises an eyebrow. “That’s pretty major. It’s not like it was even your birthday.”
“I know. Maybe she’s feelin’ guilty for ignorin’ me.”
“Does she know you’re friends with Luke?” I ask. “It might be a nice gesture, after…” I let the silence do the work for me.
“She knows we know each other, aye, but no tae the extent o’ how close we actually are.” This seems like an innocent kind of euphemism for someone who had his friend’s cock happily rammed down his throat a few hours ago. Finlay swallows, finishing his piece. “Well, it’s no’ poisoned.” He shrugs, like he’s prepared to accept it as a mystery that will forever remain unsolved. “I mean, she isnae even vegan. One o’ they types who disnae eat meat one day a week and pats herself on the back. Thinks she’s a vegetarian and calls herself plant-based while wearin’ leather and skinnin’ a haddock for tea.” He crunches up his nose. “She’s a hypocrite for the clout and her supporters lap it a’ up.”
“The B-12 deficiency must have hit hard if she’s sending you gifts,” Rory drawls, and Finlay gives an unhappy smile.
Rory crawls through the grass and over to the tree stump, where the battery-powered radio lies with its antenna propped into the air. Taking a deep breath, he snaps it on, turning the knob to the Antiro station, but Luke puts a hand on his.
“Don’t,” Luke says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to know.”
“It’ll be up-to-date information,” Rory points out. “Our papers are a day behind. And you know Antiro will crow the instant something happens, either in victory or to moan about being victims of the system.”
“We’ll take it with us. But right now… I don’t want to know. I don’t want last night to be ruined.”
Rory nods tightly, though it still looks like he’s itching to listen to any news updates. He turns the radio off and gazes at Finlay. “Play us something.”
“Play whit?” Finlay asks, raising an eyebrow. “Ye made me bring a violin here and I dinnae know why.”
“I thought it’d be nice to listen to some proper music.” He tilts his head meaningfully at Finlay. “Play something.”
“I’m a guitarist.”
Danny frowns. “You were in the school orchestra till fourth year. You were first violin.”
“Aye, I know, and it cramped my style. You were in the viola section, and that’s tragic for everyone.” Finlay teases out a slow smile. “How can ye tell if someone plays the viola? Ye cannae, because he’s the one playin’ tae an empty room.”
Danny’s frown deepens.
“Even if you couldn’t play the violin, which is a lie, because we all saw you up there belting it out at the end-of-term dance,” Rory says breezily, “you’re a multi-instrumentalist folk musician. You play all sorts. You can play the fucking bodhrán and those weird yoolly pipes.”
“Uilleanpipes,” Finlay corrects wearily.
“Aye, them,” Rory says without missing a beat, and I blink, startled.
I slant a look at Rory. “Did you just say ‘aye, them’? Very Scottish turn of phrase.”
“I have to get down to his level,” Rory explains to me in a stage whisper, and Finlay’s green eyes narrow. “Have to speak his language to gain his trust and ensure Fin does exactly what I want.”
“And you know whit I’m no’?” Finlay snaps, sounding deeply grouchy. “I’m no’ a fuckin’ jukebox.” He pauses and sighs, his gaze flicking over to Luke, who still seems somewhat detached from the rest of us, his knees drawn into his chest as he lounges artlessly against the central stump of the tree. Finlay’s face softens in sympathy. “But… for you and Luke and the sassenach — and fuck it, even Danny at this point, why the hell no’ — I’ll be and dae anythin’.”
