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CHAPTER1
MALLORY
Gay pride isone of my favourite reasons for visiting home. The cold British air hits me as I step outside Leeds/Bradford airport. It’s August, so if I hadn’t just spent three months mountain biking in Park City, Utah, it might not feel so nippy. I probably should have worn a bra under my camouflage tank top because my ladies are standing to attention. But subtlety has never been my style. I don’t care who’s looking at my body.
I drag my suitcase to the short-stay car park, wondering where my ride is. Lara’s beat-up old banger lets out a burst of black smoke as it slowly makes its way through the barrier. It cost me thirteen quid for her to lug her sorry excuse for a vehicle into the airport. A taxi might have been a safer option looking at the state of it. We’ll be lucky if we make it back to Kippax in this thing.
“Hi, Lara. When are you going to trade this runt in for a beast?” I ask, pulling open the car door, which creaks on its hinges.
“Hi, Mal. Don’t be offended, Buttercup. She just doesn’t understand you. We get from A to B and that’s all that matters.” She pats the dashboard like the car’s another one of her animal friends rather than an old banger.
I frown. “Did you name your car Buttercup?”
“She’s my favourite Powerpuff Girl and the name suits her.” She gives her car another stroke, beaming with pride.
I look more like the cartoon character in question than this rust bucket does. My hair is black in a pixie cut, and I have dark green eyes similar to Buttercup’s. “Just because it’s metallic green doesn’t make it sassy enough to be a crime-fighting machine.”
She laughs. “I’ve missed your lively personality.”
Yeah. I’ve missed Lara too. Not that I’d admit it. Lara and I have been friends for as long as I can remember. She’s the constant in my life that will always be; my chosen family. We have one of those push-and-pull relationships where small doses of time together work best, but I couldn’t live without her. She’s got a little too much sunshine in her step, and I like a black coffee before any conversation in the morning. I wouldn’t call myself grumpy, I’m just not as full-on as her. I save my energy for adventures. Cycling, hiking, and canoeing are my ideas of fun.
Once my suitcase is on the back seat and I’m buckled in, she sets off. The car makes a few grunts before settling down into a low hum. The interior smells like it’s been dipped in strawberries. It’s sickly sweet.
“I told you to come and visit me while I’m working on my column. Then you’d get me at my best.” I’m a journalist for an extreme sports magazine, Level Up, and I love it. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life, and now I’m living the dream. I get to see the world and go on insane adventures. It’s amazing.
“I can’t leave my cats or the bat I’m nursing back to health.” She gets that smile like she’s in her happy place.
“Please tell me you’re joking. I can’t believe you’d pass on amazing views in Utah, Switzerland, or Norway. And people say I’m the crazy one.”
“Working at the Cat’s Trust doesn’t exactly pay that well, and I’d miss my babies.” She stops at a junction and the brakes squeak.
“Aww.” I fake empathy, but Lara’s not the type to call me out. There’s nothing cute about being an animal carer. Maybe on paper or on the television it might look cool. But in reality, it’s poop scooping, hairy clothes, and weird-ass gifts that aren’t in the least bit cute.
Lara’s all about the simple life. Plain, cheap clothes, handbags from the market, and jewellery made from recycled bottles. She has a modest-sized house in a little village outside Leeds, with a small garden that looks like fairies vomited on it. She bought the property with the money her parents left her and she only lives a few streets away from where we grew up. She makes enough money to get by without fancy luxuries and she’s happy with that… or so she says.
When my mum died from the big C, it was my last tie to England. I tried harder with more motivation to get out of there. My three years at university studying Journalism finally paid off when I started uploading videos to social media. Instead of writing a sports column for a local newspaper, I got to try more adventurous stuff, and I was making money while doing it. The offer of a job at Level Up was a dream come true. Now I’m hoping to be nominated for the Extreme Sports Journalist of the Year. If you told my sixteen-year-old self this was possible, her mind would have been blown. Ten years later, I’m living the dream.
“Where are you going next on your travels?” Lara asks.
“I’m really excited about the next one because it’s something unique.” I rub my hands together. My next adventure is right up there on the extreme scale.
“Are you going to make me guess?” She glances in my direction before concentrating back on the road.
“No. I’m just building the tension for the big reveal. Wait for it… I’m going to Central America, Nicaragua. There’s a cool place where you can go volcano boarding.” I pause, waiting for her reaction.
“That sounds… dangerous.” Her lip curls down into a frown.
“Extreme sports are exactly that. That’s the whole point.” I shrug a shoulder.
Lara doesn’t take risks in life, unlike me. Personally, I think she plays it too safe, and it holds her back from getting what she wants. When we were kids, she missed out on so many things because she didn’t want to get hurt. She didn’t come on the rock-climbing school trip or army training day. To this day, I’ve never needed hospital treatment for an injury, and I’m living my life to the fullest.
“Have you ever thought about doing something not so scary?” She gives me a serious look.
I laugh. “What would be the fun in that?”
“It would be safer.” She nods like she’s agreeing with herself.
“Caution is for pussies.” That’s my truth. If I hadn’t taken risks, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
