I can hear them all downstairs, all those Lost Boys who used to be mine, but I don’t know how to go down there myself anymore.
They are — just so you know — obnoxiously loud. The kind of loud you’d complain about if they were seated by you in a restaurant. Complete raucous. I try to busy myself with things in my room that I haven’t seen in a year that’s now all mixed with my stuff from my1 new2 place.
No one cleaned out my room after I left. They just left it.
A housekeeper must have come in though, vacuumed and dusted, it’s clean. But otherwise, it’s just… how I left it.
There’s a knock on my door and it opens without me saying anything.
Rome pokes his head around. “Oi.”
“Oh, hey.” I flash him a quick smile and put a book back on the shelf that I was inspecting for no reason.
“Can I come in?”
I gesture to come in.
“You really hate us all so much you won’t even pop downstairs for a minute?”
“I don’t hate any of you—” I look up at him quickly, a bit thrown. “I just can’t work out how to come downstairs—”
“What—?” He sniffs. “In your own home?”
I blink over at my old friend.3 “Is this my home?”
“You might have left it…” He looks down at his hands. “But it’s never not been.”
I lean over, nudging him with my whole body. “So you’re done not speaking to me?”
He purses his mouth. “Depends—” He shrugs. “Are you done being an idiot?”
I sniff a laugh and so does he, and somehow the sounds files down the jagged edges between us.
He gives me a look. “If my girlfriend asks — no, we’re still not speaking.”
“Girlfriend…!” I look over at him, eyes wide. I’m happy for him.4, 5 “Who is it? Do I know h—” He gives me a look and I tilt my head in disbelief. “Don’t say it—” He presses his tongue into his top lip. “Rome!”
His head rolls back. “Dais—”
I stand up, shaking my head. “Unfuckingbelievable—”
“You have a boyfriend!” He jumps to his feet.
“I just—” Shake my head like mad. “Of all the people!”
“Oh—” He scoffs. “You’re one to talk — the cop?” He stares over at me, incredulous. He points at me. “I fucking told you he had a thing for you—” I roll my eyes. “And you over there, always playing it down—”
“Me?” I interrupt. “What about you with Tavie!” I give him a little shove. “Making me think I’m crazy for worrying you’ll always go back there—”
“And what do you care if I do, Dais?” He puts his face close to mine, gives me a tight, over-it smile. “It’s not me you fancy anyway. You’re just shit at sharing—”
I turn away from him, worried that’s not true, or worse, that it is. That I’ve just strung him along for years because I can’t bear the idea of someone else having something that was mine first. I cross my arms over my chest. “Why were you following me in the car park?”
He shrugs dismissively. “I had a feeling—”
“A feeling?” I repeat back, frowning.
“A feeling, yeah—” he says louder and a bit defiantly. “Spent my whole life protecting you — like I’m going to let you die now, just because you’ve spent the last year acting like a bitch—”
“I was hardly a b—”
“Shot yourself in the stomach to—”
“Save some kids!” I jump in.
“In front of me?” His eyes blink, hurt.
“And how does Tavie feel about you saving me?”
He presses his lips together. “Tavie doesn’t know—”
“Oh…” I give him a dumb look. “Interesting.”
He rolls his eyes and our faces are really close together. “Why don’t you just say thank you?”
I stare over at him stubbornly for a few seconds then kick him with my big toe. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He rolls his eyes, fighting off a smile. “Now come downstairs — we’re playing Sticky Fingers.”
“Right,” I hear my brother bellow before we’re even in the room. “The game is Sticky Fingers. We know the aim. You have your teams, and—”
He stops talking when Rome and I walk in. He half smiles.
“Oh shit,” TK moans. “I don’t want to play anymore—”
I stare over at him hurt, blink a few times.
“Why the fuck not?” Rome barks.
“Because you—” TK rushes over to me, picks me off the ground, spinning me around playfully. “Win every fucking time.”
I grin up at him, so happy to see him.
I lean in towards him. “Hey, I’m sorry for—” I mime covering his face with a rag.
Booker walks over, slings an arm around me. “Forget about it, I douse him with Propofol all the time.”
TK rolls his eyes.
“Only way to shut him up.” Happy nods at me and gives me a little wink.
Booker kisses the top of my head and then gives my brother a look. “Teeks is right though, split them up—”
“Oi.” Rome nods his head over at both of them. “Fuck off and just play better.”
“Nah, it’s not fair—” Declan shakes his head, eyeing me down from the other side of the room. “You two invented the game.”
It’s true, we did. Somewhere between The Floor is Lava, Capture the Flag and stealing.
I stare over at Decks.
‘Hi,’ I mouth.
‘Hey,’ he mouths back.
I feel like I could cry, that they’re all being so nice to me, treating me like it’s not been a year since we last spoke, that I didn’t throw our world on its head—
“Alright—” Kekoa walks over to me, hugs me from behind. “Enough chatter. What are we playing for?”
My brother holds up a little box and everyone frowns. “A late 18th-century tablet box. French-made. Pearls, gold and enamel, valued at — conservatively — £20,000.”
“Okay.” TK nods, impressed. “That tiny box isn’t messing—”
“And this.” Julian holds up a little gold ring with a navy, heart-shaped stone. Rome squints at it. “Shotgun—” he whispers to me.
“Gold with a sapphire, manufactured in good ol’ Blighty in the 15th century, possibly earlier—”
“Worth?” Declan asks, impatient.
My brother tosses him a cocky smile. “About £55,000.”
Rome elbows me.
“You know the rules — but I’ll say them again for Declan.” He gives his friend a sharp look. “No blood drawn, no choke-holds—” He looks over at me. “Daisy, no chloroform.” I flip him off. “Me and Koa will be defending the prize.” He holds up a paintball gun. “If you get hit, you’re frozen for one minute—” Claps his hands together. “Let’s go.”
This is how it works. The boys will hide the two prizes somewhere in the house, might be together, might not be, and then they hide with their paintball guns and try to shoot us to slow us down. The floor is lava — your feet can’t touch it otherwise you are immediately eliminated. It’s everyone’s favourite game, and not just because the things we’re playing for are always good — it’s just fun.
Rome and I invented it one Christmas when we were small.
We don’t win every game, but we do win most.
People don’t like it when we’re on the same team because most of them consider me to have an advantage — for one, I’m lighter and smaller — I can contort myself into smaller spaces, you can toss me higher. But that’s not why we win. Rome and I just win because we’re always on the same wavelength and we don’t need to communicate when we communicate. I usually win if I’m teamed with my brother, too.
We’ve already found the little pill case, which I’m glad we found because I wanted it — actually I wanted both, but Rome already shotgunned the ring,6 so never mind. It was in the air vent above the kitchen sink.
And we’ve located the ring — on a little prong on the chandelier that swings above our foyer. And I’m swinging from the said chandelier — one-handedly — with my brother and Miguel yelling at me from the ground as I’m swinging back and forth — Kekoa’s brought out a drop mat for me to fall onto — and Rome is trying to grab my ankles to bring me back onto the balcony—
“Just let go!” Julian yells up at me.
“Nah — I’ve got her—” Rome says, a bit unsure.
“Just drop, Face!” Koa tells me.
“But I want the ring!” I yell at my brother without looking at him.
“You’re going to die!” Yells Miguel.7
“Whose idea was it to put it on a chandelier, then?” I yell down at them. “That’s on you.”
“No one made you JUMP ON IT!” Julian yells and it’s right then when Tiller walks in.8
“What the fuck is going on?” he yells, as I reach, reach, reach with the tippiest of my fingers, and my hand is slipping — I’m going to fall, I can feel it — and I feel my hand close around the ring right as my other one slips off the chandelier and I start falling — what, I don’t know — eighteen feet through the air.
“Incoming!” Romeo yells and my brother and Kekoa tighten the slack of the drop mat and I land perfectly, popping my head up like a little meerkat, proud of myself.
“You’re fucking ridiculous.” My brother lets out a little laugh, shaking his head. “Did you get it?”
I hold up my finger, flashing it to him.
He sniffs a laugh, offers me his hand to pull me out, but as soon as he does, Tiller snatches me away from him, glaring between us.
“What are you doing?” he asks, looking around, confused.
“Just playing.” I shrug innocently.
“What in the hell are you playing?” he asks loudly.
“Nothing—” I shake my head dismissively. “It’s just a game — it’s dumb,” I say,9 and my brother frowns.
“Uh oh,” Romeo says as he trots down the stairs, coolly. “Playtime’s over. Dad’s home.”
Rome walks over to me.
“Good game,” he tells me and I hold out the ring for him. He looks at it then shakes his head. “You keep it.”
He leans in, kisses my cheek10 and walks out the front door.
I swallow, suddenly feeling a bit nervous as Tiller stares after him.
“Come on—” I grab Tiller’s hand, pulling him away, up the stairs. My brother watches me go, still frowning.
“We three are going to have dinner this week, yeah?” Julian calls after me.
Tiller looks back at him and I shake my head. “Mmm, no—”
“Wasn’t a question, Face,” Julian says, walking away.
I pull Tiller into my room and close the door, smiling apologetically. He folds his arms over his chest. “What game was that?”
“Oh…” I swat my hand. “Just a silly one.”
“What is it?” he asks again.
I press my lips together. “It’s called Sticky Fingers.”
“Sticky Fingers.” He blinks unimpressed.
I nod.
“And what do you do during Sticky Fingers?” He gives me a look with tall eyebrows.
I fold my arms over my chest defensively. “It’s a bit like capture the flag.”
He squints a little. “What’s the flag, Dais?”
“Oh—” I lick my lips and shrug lightly. “Depends.”
“On?” he asks sharply.
I look away because I don’t know what to say.
“Show me the ring—” he tells me, holding out his hand, waiting for me.
“No—” I shake my head.
“Show me.”
“No!” I shove my hand deep into my pockets. “My brother bought it from an online auction—” I tell him, even though I’m not sure that’s completely true. Sometimes that’s true.
Tiller looks over at me, shaking his head. “Daisy — I get that you’re just trying to make the best out of a bad situation, but I go out for one night and come back here and you’re playing a game pretending to be a thief?”
“I am a thief!” I yell and he blinks a bunch of times. He looks scared, actually, so I shake my head quickly. “I mean, I was—”
He breathes out, staring at the ground. “And what are you now?”
“Let’s see—” I give him a tight smile. “I did want to be normal, but then I got stalked, I was trying to be a doctor, but a girl died in the carpark because she was standing next to me, and then I used to think I was just — you know — like a good person, but my boyfriend is standing here, looking at me like I’m something on the bottom of his shoe—”
His face softens immediately. “No, I’m not—” He takes a step towards me, pulls me into him, breathes out loudly. “Dais, I can’t have dinner with your brother — if anyone sees me—”
I stare up at him. “You’re living with him?”
“Yeah—” He gives me a look. “How do you think that one went over?”
“Tiller,” I say. “You have to give him a chance—”
He scoffs.
“Please—”
“Daisy—” He sighs.
I bury my face in his chest, breathe him in and feel sad as I do.
He smells like what’s been my home for the last year. It’s him, he’s been my home. He’s been the constant, he’s been the thing that makes me feel safe. And the iceberg’s struck, but they’re still telling us to sleep.
I’m still telling us to sleep.
“Please—” I say, all muffled by him. “Please, please — you’re going to love him.”
He lifts up my chin.
“I don’t want to love him,” he tells me very seriously.
“For me?” I ask quietly.11
“Okay.” He sighs, nods a little. “For you.”
1 No longer my.
2 Now old?
3 Understatement.
4 Genuinely.
5 Mostly.
6 And if he’s going to give it to Tavie, I will scream.
7 And that said in his Brazilian accent sends Rome over the edge.
8 That meme where Danny Glover walks into the room on fire holding a pizza? This is the real life version of that.
9 Even though it’s my favourite game in the world.
10 And I have a surge of missing him and loving him, though I couldn’t group specifically in what capacity I feel those things for him. Is it nostalgic and he always makes me feel a hint of that just because he is who he is, or is it past-tense tender where he’s just something I’ll always be fond of, or is there always more to us than that? I don’t know.
11 (Manipulatively)
