Her name was Felicity Wolf. She had the sort of brows that Cara Delevingne would start a Youtube collab channel with. And she was straight, of course.
And I wasn’t passing.
It was lunchtime and I was sat with the only people in my year that I tolerated: Jesse Grits, chaotic bisexual drama nerd who surprisingly got more pussy than the rest of the school combined, Ulvina Province, deputy head of the school council and determined the only reason she isn’t the head is because she’s black (I believe her), and Morgan Moody. Morgan doesn’t really need any introduction, she’s just Morgan.
I guess I’m sort of only friends with them because all my actual friends left after year 11 to go to some fancy tech school in London, and I sort of clung to the only newbies to sixth form that hadn’t made any friends yet.
Felicity was sat at the table opposite mine, the table where the girls with silky hair sat and played their hand-painted ukuleles while the football guys and certain dopey trans kids looked on with boners and imaginary boners. I was packing, of course, but the thing wasn’t auto-mechanic, so instead I just squeezed my thighs together and stared while Felicity laughed with an open mouth.
Jesse and Morgan were arguing about something, again. Sometimes I wondered why the two of them didn’t just bone, get it out of the way, distill the tension etc etc, but then I heard what they were squabbling over.
“I’m saying your play’s a bust,” Morgan said.
“No, you’re saying I’m a failure,” Jesse snapped back. “It’s not my fault people aren’t buying tickets.”
Morgan slammed her hands down on the table. “I already told you, Jesse, people don’t care about Shakespeare.”
Jesse scoffed. “Yeah right.”
“So why won’t you just take my advice?”
“What was your advice?” I asked.
Ulzina looked up from her book and squinted at me. I didn’t normally contribute to jesse and morgan’s little...discussions.
“I suggested he make it a musical,” Morgan said, throwing her hands up.
“And I said no fucking way, you’re not ruining the twelfth night with jazz hands and syncopated finger snapping!”
“I was suggesting hiring someone who can actually compose, asshole,” Morgan said, flipping Jesse off.
“Yeah,” Jesse said. “Like who?”
“Felicity writes,” I said, and now Ulzina was full-out frowning at me. “I mean, she writes music. She uh, she plays piano.”
Morgan crossed her arms. “See. We’ll get Luc’s little crush-puppet to make us a musical soundtrack.”
“Hey,” I said, launching a chip at Morgan. She dodged it, of course. “Don’t call her my crush-puppet, she’s, she’s...”
“Dreaaaamy,” Jesse mocked.
“So dreaaaamy,” Morgan copied.
“It’s like my heart is a flutter when I see her.” Jesse clutched his chest. “Like a jar full of a million butterflies-”
“Just bursting to get free,” Morgan finished.
“I was just thinking...” I trailed off, letting my eyes wander back to Felicity. She was combing her fingers through her hair, like a goddamn mermaid. “Just thinking...”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Morgan said, still smirking. “We get our composer, you get your time to flirt with pretty little miss, and Ulzina gets...another councillor vote?”
Ulzina raised a pen to Morgan. “We can hope.”
“Great,” Morgan said, turning to me. “Go ask her then, Luc.”
I started. “What? No I...I can’t just do that, Morgan.”
“Don’t tell me you’re shyyyy,” she teased. Me and Jesse had a bet that Morgan had a first-class degree on How to Get Under Someone’s Skin. With honours.
“I’ve just never really spoken to her,” I defended. “It’ll be weird.”
“What, so you want Jesse to do it?” Morgan raised an eyebrow.
“No.”
“Cause you know what’ll happen if Jesse does it-”
“Okay, fine,” I said. “Fine, I’ll ask her about your stupid play.”
“Musical,” Morgan said, at the same time Jesse shouted, “It’s not stupid!”
I walked the short distance to Felicity’s table feeling like someone had sliced open my knees and stuffed them full of pebbles. If I were half as observant as Ulzina, I’d have realised that the laces of my Vans were undone before I tripped over and landed face-first in Felicity’s lap.
“Lucas,” Felicity said. “I, uh, can I help you?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled, scrambling onto the floor, because even squished grapes and weed-kid vomit were better than Felicity’s crotch. Not...not that there was anything wrong with Felicity’s crotch, I just...nevermind. “I’m so sorry, I tripped.”
“I’m aware,” she said, nodding slowly. “Did you...did you want to ask me something?”
I hustled to my feet, brushed the mess of my hair back, and shoved my shaking hands into the front pocket of my hoodie. “Yes, yes indeed.” Yes indeed? “I was wondering, well, well Jesse and Morgan were wondering...if you...well…”
“Spit it out, Lucas,” Felicity said, but she said it in a way that left me feeling like a cloud. Her eyes were lined with laughter, her voice softer than her hands. And how did I know how soft her hands were? Our school was the type of bullshit establishment that had team building exercises at the start of every year. Me and Felicity had been on a team, we’d clung to each other as we crossed the infamous lake of car tyres.
“They need someone to compose a soundtrack for the school musical.”
Felicity’s eyes lit up. Metaphorically I mean, they were sort of really dark brown, not the kind that teen romance novels indulged in. They weren’t flecked with specs of gold, they didn’t catch amber light. They were just really dark brown. In fact, those eyes were my favourite thing about her.
I coughed and shuffled. “D’you think you’d be interested in-”
“I’d love to, Lucas!” Felicity clapped her hands together. “Let me know all the arrangements and I’ll pop over and have a chat with the director.”
I tried not to laugh at her calling Jesse a director. Jesse was the least organised, most disaster-prone kid I knew. It didn’t take a genius, because I certainly wasn’t one, to know that Morgan was really running the whole production.
“Cool,” I said, and headed back over to my table. “Cool cool cool.”
“Is she in?” was the first thing Morgan asked when I sat back down.
I didn’t have it in me to reply, so instead I just nodded.
Morgan and Jesse high fived, and unsurprisingly Ulzina remained silent. It’d been a year too long to ask her why she was always quiet, and what was on her mind when she looked at me like I’d stepped on the tail of her favourite bunny rabbit.
So, instead, I just ate.
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