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“Where are we going?” I ask him. Aside from what we were told to bring, I honestly haven’t paid attention to any of the plans for this weekend — I just want it over with. It reminds me too much of the trip to St. Camford, and the longer I’m away from Lochkelvin, the more my heart weirdly hurts from missing it.
“Big careers fair,” Finlay answers, and any minor enthusiasm that could have been hidden somewhere in my soul automatically festers and dies.
“Oh.”
Because that’s all we are: pawns to be rammed into place within an ugly, capitalist society. No, I can’t really muster any joy from that.
“I know, and here’s me just back fae another o’ these kinda things.” At my blank stare, he plows on: “I went tae the open day at Edinburgh — I know it’s a lesser uni, but they telt me I could dae politics wi’ music. St. Camford disnae let ye. They’ve got an awfy narrow, single-track focus.”
“Didn’t St. Camford ban you?”
“Aye, there’s that an’ a’… But my maw was tryin’ tae sort that oot. I think. It was on her tae-dae list, anyway. Somewhere. If she remembers.”
Finlay casts his gaze up and down my sullen face and asks, “Whit’s wrang wi’ you?” Although his question lacks any sense of tact, I admire his bluntness. Society would probably function better if everyone were as direct as Finlay.
“I just…” I swallow, glancing out at the rain spreading across the window like cracks. “Nothing’s felt right since Luke left. Everything feels so small. I just wish we were all together again, back on that island. I felt more powerful then.”
“Ye can only be small if you let yourself be small,” Finlay notes quietly. “Idinnae think ye’re small. Ye’ve got mair — whit’s that word again —chutzpahthan the rest o’ us put together.”
I manage to eke out a smile. “Chutzpah?”
“Aye. I mean, here we’d say ye’re giein’ it laldy.” At my quizzical look, Finlay explains, “That ye’re full o’ confidence, a wee bit o’ a risk-taker… A bold yin, wi’ plenty courage.”
I frown at my rain-spattered reflection, noting my straggly wet hair. It’s funny how others see you so differently from how you see yourself.Laldy. It’s a term so far beyond anything I’ve ever associated with myself, but maybe I project it so far ahead of me that I can’t see it but others can. Meanwhile, I’ve never felt so weak and powerless in my life.
“Courage calls tae courage, so I’m hopin’ some o’ it will have rubbed aff on me.”
“Oh, please. If you thinkI’mcourageous, then I’ve only learned it from you.”
Finlay’s cheeks redden. “Aye, okay, noo we’re just soundin’ like a pair o’ big-heids. Insufferable.”
I laugh, but it’s nice to see Finlay beaming bright for a change, instead of being surly like me as he contemplates our uncertain future. He squeezes his hand around mine.
“A shoogly peg,” Finlay remarks, clutching my hand tightly. “That’s whit oor future hinges on.” He says it with an ironic smile, as if he’s had no choice but to accept this fate. “Who knows whit’s goin’ on ootside o’ the Lochkelvin curriculum when naebody’s prepared tae reveal anythin’ tae us.”
In a lowered voice I say, “I was going to see if I could get a copy of The Daily Toot. Do you think shops here will sell it?”
Finlay grimaces. “Maybe no’. It hasnae exactly got a huge circulation. Why?”
“If anyone’s going to say what happened, they will.” I glance around the coach and see Arabella with her head against the window, staring distantly out from the glass. “I’m convinced Arabella has a copy.”
Finlay follows my gaze. “She’s bein’ weird as fuck, that yin.”
“You see it, too?”
“Aye. Hasnae been right since I came back. Face is trippin’ her.” His mouth twists in contemplation. “Maybe she got dumped? She’s got that kinda lovesick look in her eye.”
I arch a brow. “How would you know?”
“Because I used tae dae the same mopey shit when it came tae oor laird and maister,” Finlay mutters wryly.
“I don’t think so. I didn’t get that impression. Moncrieff mentioned her earlier to me so they must still be talking.”
We sit in silence for a moment, deep in thought. And then Finlay glances around, his expression troubled, and drops his voice. “About Rory,” he whispers, and my insides instantly tighten. “Is he still bangin’ on about unicorns?”
Hesitantly, I lick my lips, sensing Finlay’s deep well of disapproval. “Yeah.”
“For fuck’s sake.”
