Page 60 of Foes & Cons
“Roxy’ll get it when she’s back. I can tell her what happened,” he says. I check my phone again; I barely have time to pee before the competition starts. OK, biting big chunks out of my cheek right now. “Eliza?”
“What?” I snap, hurrying into his room.
“You can still do the cosplay without the cloak . . . cape.”
He closes the door behind us. We’re standing at the end of his bed, and I can tell it’s his because he’s a neat freak and it’s all smooth and tucked in like the Undead Princess of Vaquella is coming to visit. Two bottles of aftershave sit on the side, one all greys and smoky glass, plus the novelty one Sadie got him. She instructed him only to wear it for special occasions, because she’d spent a month’s pocket money on it. I can’t believe he still has it. It’s cute he’s brought it. Wait. Not cute. I have no opinion of that vanilla and sweet orange-smelling football-shaped aftershave.
“But I need it,” I say, my voice wobbling a little.
Something flashes across his face, that look of terror boys get when they think you’re going to cry. I try Roxy again, and when the busy cross pops up on my phone tears prick at my eyes, so he better get over it. I bite my lip and frown at my phone, unable to look at him, the last person I want to fall apart in front of. Being in his room, enveloped in his routine and his smell, is making everything worse; lost and further away from Roxy.
“But she doesn’t always wear a cloak, right? Didn’t they only add the cloak in season two anyway? So, there was a wholeseason where she looked like this.” He pauses for a moment, and I look up at him. He smiles and scratches his head, leaving a tuft of hair sticking up on the side. “Like what you’re wearing, I mean.”
“You remember that?” I ask.
His eyebrows pop up. “Remember what?”
“When her costume changed.”
“Duh. Probably every pubescent boy noticed what she was wearing in all her scenes.”
I rush back three years to when he, Roxy and I were watching the episode “Yours or Mine?” from season four. Juliana pulled Viggo from the Reapers Chasm, straddled him (naturally), then ripped a piece of fabric from her skirt and tied it around his bleeding arm. Roxy and I paused at the end of the scene to get snacks, but Charlie Chamberlain couldn’t move, stuck with a cushion over his lap.
“I forgot she was your first crush,” I say, smiling at the memory.
“Kind of.” He looks down at me, then shoves his hands in his pockets. “Anyway. Like I said, she doesn’t always have the cloak. The cape, sorry.”
“Thisversion of the costume she does.” I’m pulled back into the room, clock ticking, and the competition start even closer. I go to claw my hands though my hair, but my fingertips don’t get past the hairspray and mousse. “And I don’t have my tattoo.”
“OK. You need to get over the cape, but we can do something about the tattoo.” He shuffles past me and leans over Sadie’s bed, grabbing a pencil case. “Hoodie off and turn around.”
“What? No, I . . .”
“Do you want the tattoo?” he says, riffling through the pencil case.
“Yes, but . . .”
“I can do it,” he says, pulling out a black pen. I shake myhead. “You want to do it? I forgot you’re double-jointed and have extendable arms.”
I glance at my phone again. We have fourteen minutes and Roxy still isn’t here. Charlie Chamberlain may be my only option.
“Won’t it smudge?” I ask.
He shakes his head and waves the pen. “It’s permanent; I woke up with an eye patch on me when Sadie was mad once. Had to go to football practice with it.”
I can’t help smiling as he throws the pencil case down.
“Let me find a picture then,” I say, looking at my phone.
“Don’t need it. I’ve doodled her tattoo a thousand times. Just turn around.”
“What if you mess it up?”
“I literally drew it last week, so I think we’re OK.”
“What for?”
“An internship thing.”
