Page 87 of The Edge of Always
Chapter Twenty
THEN
Luna was 16
Emmett was 17
‘Excited to be back?’ Mae asked from where she was sitting next to Luna in the car.
‘Yes. I mean, I think so.’
For the first time in years, Luna was determined to enjoy the summer as Emmett’s friend – no more pining. She thought back to what she’d done last year, kissing Ahmed like that, and it felt so wrong. No, Emmett had made it perfectly clear that he didn’t want to risk their friendship, and Luna was okay with that. She had to be.
Luna had heard from Emmett this year; they’d written as always. She knew that Tanya was out of prison and clean. She knew that with Gregor’s help, Earl had sold another piece, the Montmartre one. She didn’t know anything else. More than ever this year, she’d tried to just get on with her life, to pretend that Northumberland didn’t exist. Except, of course, it did, and they were almost there.
Her mum and dad weren’t speaking. Some argument about the fact that he was here for the whole summer this year, which hadn’t exactly made her Mum happy. Luna wondered how many trips to the puffins they’d do.
‘I need a break, Jennie. I can’t shake this virus at all.’
They’d maintained a terse silence for the whole journey.
It continued as they pulled onto the driveway of the cottage.
‘Great drive, everyone – the chat was excellent as always.’ Mae was out of the car quickly. Luna waited though, because there, sat in his usual spot, was Emmett.
Her friend Emmett, she reminded herself.
That was this summer’s plan. The Platonic Plan. Luna thought that it felt significantly easier to remember the merits of this plan when they were several hundred miles away.
‘Hi,’ she said. She felt scrubbed clean. After the dark year when she was fourteen, and last year’s Glam Plan, Luna felt rubbed raw and tingly. Like a blank canvas.
‘Hi,’ he smiled. ‘Need a hand bringing your stuff in?’
‘Thanks.’
Luna loaded up Emmett’s arms with supplies. She had more artwork than ever this year. If she didn’t draw, she started to feel twitchy. Her anatomical drawings were getting better and better. Never good enough, never a replica of the real thing, but she liked the struggle – something about it felt noble.
It still wasn’t the sort of art she felt she should be creating, but she accepted now that this was what she was drawn to. If art was always destined to be her hobby, she reasoned that she might as well draw what she liked.
Emmett piled Luna’s things in the space at the bottom of their bed while Mae laid down and closed her eyes.
‘You okay, Mae?’ he asked her.
She waved a hand towards him.
‘I have a pressure headache. I’ve been getting them whenever I’m forced to be around Mum for more than half an hour. Ten minutes and I’ll be good to go.’
‘Okay. We can go to The Edge – the others are there.’
It was impossible not to want to look at Emmett. But, Luna reminded herself, this was perfectly normal, totally within the bounds of a platonic relationship. They hadn’t seen each other for a year; desperately staring at Emmett was a normal way to behave.
She noticed that his hair was shorter than it had been in the last couple of years, the curls were close to his head. It made his face seem sharper, a collection of angles that Luna had never fully registered were forming. Angles that made her heart speed up, left her feeling light-headed. This reaction possibly wasn’t within the bounds of a regular, run of the mill, platonic relationship. It was just that when Luna thought about the scrappy boy Emmett had been when he was fourteen, there was none of that left now. Instead, there were darker patches on his chin, where he’d shaved.
It was undeniable: Emmett, the boy who had been Luna’s best friend, was no more.
Nope. No. These thoughts were not in keeping with the friendship she was determined to cultivate. Men and women could be friends. Luna thought of her mum and Eyebrow Clive… Actually, that was probably a bad example.
They talked and filled in the blanks of the past year as Mae recovered from her headache, and then they were on their way to The Edge.
