Micah took Kyle’s arm and dragged him closer to introduce him to everyone. “This is Kyle. Kyle, Finn. He wants to be a social worker. That’s Lang. He’s an [Athlete]. We used to be classmates. You know Ryan—”
“Happy birthday. I didn’t bring you a present. I thought there would be enough people to avoid you.”
“It’s okay.” He shrugged with his hands still in his jacket pockets. “I didn’t have any expectations for you to disappoint. Happy New Year.”
“Is that not bad luck to say before the actual New Year?”
“No?”
“You were on their team, right?” Finn asked as he shook his hand. “Glove Guy? You actually wear that thing in the shower?”
He turned to Micah. “Gossips should be lynched.”
“Sorry.”
“Someone seems grumpy.”
“He’s just mean because he misunderstood what kind of party this would be,” Micah said with brutal honesty. “But look at how awesome his shirt is. You really do have weather resistance, huh?”
“I really do hate gossips,” he deflected. “Don’t you?”
“Who doesn’t?” Finn asked. “And we all do it anyway.”
“It wasn’t meant to be gossip,” Micah said. “Anyway, Jana, this is Kyle. Kyle, Jana. She used to go to our school. He’s one of your replacements, now. Oh, uhm, I didn’t mean that like—”
“It’s fine. Nice to meet you. Nice shirt?”
“Thanks.”
“Uhm …?”
“Cory.”
“Cory. Right.”
“Tim.”
And down the line they went. By the friendly looks people gave them, their interactions were either brief enough that Kyle couldn’t screw them up or Micah’s cheer was enough to overshadow.
But he kept on dragging him on and on and … Ryan didn’t know if he should feel sorry for the guy or not. He was out of sight soon enough and then he didn’t care. Out of sight, out of mind.
Let him be someone else’s problem.
The crowd grew denser around them as they neared the festival roads. They bumped into more and more people, figuratively or otherwise. Their party split up as some ran off over different paths, some were hooked by the colorful stalls, and they all walked at different speeds.
The three of them knew the streets better than their guests and found themselves a good bit ahead of them. They had to slow down to let them catch up.
“They’re talking about us, you know?” Ryan offered and glanced back at where Jana, Cory, and Tim, apparently, walked together in close conversation.
“No, duh.”
“It’s fine,” Lang said. “I don’t want you eavesdropping for me.”
He shrugged. The volume around them was rising anyway. He wouldn’t be able to talk and listen.
The outer festival roads were lined with stalls and open bars or restaurants, most of which would only be open for a few more hours after the parade. Some would even close for a little during it.
Until then, people got steaming meals or mugs of mulled wines and clutched them for warmth.
Others sold colorful sweets, firecrackers, and toys. Some had games and prizes he wouldn’t mind trying later this evening. With this company, it seemed like it could be a fun competition.
Maybe Lang could win his girlfriend a prize? He glanced to the side, but the thought alone was overstepping boundaries. It was none of his business. He wouldn’t live vicariously through him.
What was his business, though, was giving him a hard time about it. No, it was his duty, really.
“How is she?” he asked, trying to sound casual. For now.
Lang looked at him without comprehension.
“Jana, I mean?” he asked with a smile. “What do you think of her? Not that I want to be lynched.”
Lang huffed and rolled his eyes in an exaggerated motion. Ryan dodged a chain of stuffed animals hung from a stall like the branch of a weeping willow. When he looked again, they had come to a stop on him.
The corners of his lips tilted up and he asked with an evil smile, “What do you think of her?”
Beneath the expression, he could have easily imagined a glint of uncertainty. Ryan went along with it for him. Maybe he needed assurances? “She’s pretty cool from what I’ve seen.”
If Lang liked her, he would give her a chance. Repay the favor. And she was pretty cool from what little he had seen so far.
“Oh, yeah?” Finn asked. “Is she now?”
“Yeah, she seems nice. And she’s, y’know,” Ryan added with a small leer, “pretty easy on the eyes, don’t you think?” He nudged him with a teasing smile to really repay the favor. He’d waited far too long for a chance like this.
He glanced at Finn in case he wanted to join in, but they both leaned in with grins like hyenas instead.
“What,” Finn asked, “specifically makes you think that?” They were turning it on him like the bastards they were.
Ryan glanced back in the vain hope that they’d arrive just then to save him, but they seemed even more distant than they had been before, if anything. Cory was pointing at the paper lanterns on the shelf of another stall.
“C’mon, Ryan,” Lang said and jabbed at his side. “We just want to know. Tell us.”
He slapped his hand away. He did like that they were giving him a chance, though, instead of saying his opinion didn’t matter. He rubbed his neck and tried, “You know, she seems, uh, athletic?”
Lang laughed to himself.
“Oh, yah’,” Finn said and backed off with a smile. “That’s what I think, too, whenever I see a hot girl somewhere. ‘Ooh, that athleticism.’”
“Fuck you.” He chuckled nervously.
“I don’t like her,” Sol said and nearly gave him a heart attack. Where had she popped up from? She suddenly walked right next to them, leaning forward to look at them as she spoke.
If it had been anyone else—
“You don’t get a say,” Lang told her.
“I don’t care. She seems stuck-up. Like, I bet if you pushed her in a match she would throw a hissy fit.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t even know her.”
She shrugged. “Just my intuition, as an unbiased party.”
Lang pointed at Ryan.
“He’s biased to being friendly.”
“Ryan? Have you met him?”
“Friendly to people you like, I mean.”
“I’m friendly?” Ryan tried.
“Ha! No,” Finn told him.
“What?”
He put a hand on his shoulder as if to pass on a deep wisdom. “You’re like an old person who despises everything and anything new. Just with people.”
No, he wasn’t?
“Look, she’s gossiping about you.” Sol pointed back at the where the three were still trailing after them and talking. Cory had a skip in her step and the ring of an unopened paper lantern in one hand.
“She used to be a climber,” Lang said. “She can fight with a spear just like Ryan can.” He waved in his direction. “She wouldn’t throw a ‘hissy fit’ just because someone gave her a push.”
“People and monsters.” Sol raised a hand for each like separate cards. “Different circumstances.”
He rolled his eyes again, this time in true annoyance. “You’re just being annoying for the sake of being annoying. There’s a word for that— Whatsitsface?”
“I’m not,” she balked.
“Contrarian?” Finn offered.
Lang pointed. “Contrarian. Party-pooper. Leave?”
She shrugged as if to say, Don’t say I didn’t warn you, with shoulders only covered by a seam-striped shirt and spun to disappear whence she’d came. Her pullover didn’t even cover her arms.
Ryan called out on a whim before she was gone, “Hey, wait up!” It was weird seeing her in Autumn or Spring clothing among the New Year’s crowd. It made her stand out. In a good way, he imagined.
“What?”
“I need a reference,” he said and pushed a hand against her shoulder, searching for skin.
“Ah!” She swatted him. “What are you doing?”
He chuckled and repeated himself, “I need a reference.”
When he pushed [Hot Skin] up, she seemed to catch on. “Oh. Warn people, will you? You weirdo.”
She said it but put a hand on his face, as payback or whatever else. Ryan smiled and gauged the temperature until his own matched. It put him at a cozy warm that made him think of hearths, socks, and a thin quilt. The wool inside his collar tickled fresh sweat on his neck and chin.
It wasn’t so bad for now. If they ran around too much or the crowd got worse, he might have to take the jacket off—
He caught himself on the thought. No, the jacket was staying. He would just have to push the Skill down more.
He let go and said, “Now, you guys are just like me.”
“Aha? And how warm is that? On a scale.”
“Six out of ten? Seven? Somewhere around there. Not sure.”
She let go. “What’s ten like?”
“Easy—”
Someone whistled and another girl called from atop a rising road, “Sol! Stop necking your boyfriend and hurry up.”
“Shut up! I’m coming.”
“Thanks!” Ryan called after her when she left.
She spun around to jog backward and waved, “You’re welcome.”
The other two gave him weird looks. “You guys got a six out of ten, apparently,” he explained.
Finn smiled. “I’m way more than a six out of ten.”
He rolled his eyes, because he obviously hadn’t meant that, but let the comment slide.
They took a left instead of heading up the hill and were met with the smell of fresh alcohol and black powder on hands, wrists, and mouths of people they passed. On some shirts and shoes, too.
The street beyond that smelled of fresh shoes and clothes, paper, icy grit, and scented candles, everything tainted in shades of warm or cold with every new step he took, with every new bubble of air he passed.
The volume thrumming through the city found its source in the crowd that lined the sides of the street beyond. Warm light and even warmer decorations hung overhead. Red mostly, and though there was less of it, silver was also around. Influences from the rest of the city and the monument looming over them. Its sides were already lit up in beacons of different colors in the dark.
Ryan stared and wondered what lay beyond the walls if not the floors they fought in. They were much larger than it after all. How did it squeeze miles upon miles of terrain into just a few kilometers?
The crowd bumped into him and dragged his perspective back down to the street. The stone of the empty road between the crowd was mostly clean. Patches of confetti and husks of premature firecrackers lay here and there, and there would be many, many more before the night had gone.
They shuffled to the side and waited for most of the others. Lang bumped into Jana again when she showed up and she pushed him away, saying something about how he was warm.
Cory had apparently bought her lantern early because she’d had troubles getting one last year.
The dense crowd continued to press on them and they headed up the street, looking for a good spot as they shuffled past the chairs and tables of the occasional restaurant or open apartment doors.
“Ryan!” his dad called. He needed a moment to stop him across the street, waving at them. Micah and Kyle poked out the crowd behind him. How the hell they had gotten over there? Which streets had they taken?
He waved them over and they pressed their way through the crowd to cross. His dad had left the moment he saw them and it was just the other two, his mom, and Hannah then.
They didn’t have a good spot but Ryan recognized the bar his parents liked to go to. His dad was already inside at the counter. After a few moments of small talk, he came back with two mugs of beer.
Ryan leaned closer to ask his mom over the noise of the crowd, “Do you need me to look after Hannah for you?”
She frowned at him and he pointed at Hannah. She glanced at the bar and shook her head with a smile. “That’s not for me.”
“What?”
“Just wait.”
Ryan frowned until his dad held one of the mugs out to him, handle first. Then he understood.
“Happy birthday, champ,” he said. “Starting from today, you get to drink on your own, but how about sharing your first official one with me?”
He smiled. “Yes, please.”
He accepted the mug and added a second hand to hold it steady, feeling stupidly nervous. It was just beer. The glass was cold enough for the barest hint of condensation, despite the cold. He peered down at its froth and the way it distorted through the glass for a moment.
When he looked back up, his dad raised his own mug and gave him a nod. Ryan glanced at his friends copied the gesture.
“Oi, ey, hey, wait, wait, wait,” Finn rushed to say and took a step back. “We want to join in, too.”
“Yeah, give us a minute?”
His dad smiled and said, “Well, hurry up, then.”
“Yeah, me three—” Micah started, but he grabbed him by the shoulder before he could leave.
By his chuckle and smile, it had just been a joke anyway.
“None for you, Kyle?” his mom asked. Apparently, Micah had introduced him to them already.
He shook his head.
“Not sixteen yet?”
“Not a fan,” he said, “uh, ma’am.” He took another step back as if to unhitch himself from the conversation.
That was fine by him. The other three also declined, luckily. It wouldn’t really be their place, right?
Ryan held his mug steady against the moving crowd with a small hidden smile. The froth sunk while he waited, but his friends were much more casual in how they handled their own glasses as they hurdled past the chairs and tables back to them.
“Now,” Finn said.
They clinked their glasses together, echoing other toasts around them, and Ryan knocked his glass back to take his first— well, third-ish or fourth sip of beer. His parents had let him try before.
And it was just as bitter and dry as he remembered. Even more so, since he drank enough to get an actual taste for it. It felt strangely warm on its way down, despite being so cold. Like the opposite of Micah’s good healing salve.
The smell filled his head as the warmth filled his stomach and he took a deep intoxicating breath through his nose. It made him think of evenings just like these throughout the year—festivals, and grill parties, and open bars he walked past on his way home, glasses on his parents’ table covered with coasters to ward off bees.
He had only really seen or smelled them from the sidelines. The few times his parents had let him try, it had felt like a partial membership, like so many other things in his life.
Ryan glanced at his friends drinking with him and saw them looking back. He was glad this one wasn’t one of those. He let himself smile as he took another gulp just as bitter as the last.
Of course, he checked to make sure he wouldn’t be the first one to lower his glass, but the others just raised their eyebrows and kept going. Ryan sort of let his beer slosh against his lips and only a drank a trickle. Was it cheating? Probably, but there was no way he was going to drink it all in one go. Not his first. Who knew how many his parents would allow him to have today?
Thankfully, Finn did him the favor of setting his first down with a satisfied gasp, “Ahh.”
Ryan followed suit and cleared his throat against the warmth. He wiped the froth off his mouth as he looked around. The taste, smell, and feeling didn’t leave him one bit. He felt like little parts of it were simmering all over inside, coated in froth.
“Good?” his dad asked.
He nodded. “It’s— good.” He almost said ‘okay’ out of some weird reflex to stay humble, but remembered it was probably his favorite if he always came here. And it was good.
His dad grinned and slapped a hand on his shoulder. Drums started up in the distance, fireworks screamed as they zipped off toward the sky, and the crowd cheered, but he leaned close and half-shouted in his ear, “You can have one of those today.”
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Before Ryan could even react, his mom nudged her husband and mouthed, Three. They must have prepared it beforehand, though, because there was no way she could have heard him over the noise.
Hannah looked around with wide eyes at all the noise, but she hadn’t started crying yet. The first fireworks crackled low in the sky, more sound than lights. Tambourines joined in the chaos.
His dad glared at her and mouthed, Two.
She squinted back and gave in with a fake, Two.
He rolled his eyes and smiled. “Your moth—” er— “drives—” hard bargain. His words were half-audible through the noise of another crackle.
Ryan smiled and glanced at his friends to know if they were seeing this, but their attention was divided by the street and crowd as they waited in anticipation for the coming parade.
The drums were getting louder.
“Did you hear us?” his dad asked. His voice was more audible between fireworks and when the crowd calmed down.
Ryan nodded vigorously and suppressed a warm burp.
His mom laughed and leaned closer to kiss him on the cheek. “We’re just kidding,” she shouted, “you can have as a much as you like as long you do it responsibly, okay? Okay?”
He nodded.
“Have fun tonight, Ryan.”
He turned his head to reply into her ear, “Thank you, mom. You, too. And happy New Year.”
She hugged him and Hannah leaned her head against his chest.
Please, don’t throw up on me.
Thankfully, his mom stepped back and the danger passed. “Is it okay for her to be here?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out. It’s not like she has a bedtime yet and she’s up at all hours, but— It’s her first New Year’s and her first time celebrating her brother’s birthday with him,” she said. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“So you’ll stay as long as possible?”
She looked like she wanted to reassure him for a moment, but seemed to change her mind, “Don’t worry, we won’t hover.”
“Thank you.”
He glanced at his dad and he raised his glass again. Ryan copied the motion once more and took another sip. Still cold to warm. Still bitter. Still that overwhelming smell in his nose.
But now that the novelty had passed, he had to suppress a small grimace. He would definitely have to get used to the taste. Finn, Lang, and his dad were all drinking without any problems around him and he knew his mom did the same from the many times he had seen her drunk at Beer Fest.
Ryan looked around, noticed Micah was staring at him intensely, and almost jumped.
“Uh—”
His dad dragged him closer in a half-hug. “You’ll have to wait until you’re older. Sorry, kiddo.”
He nodded and seemed a little disappointed. “I know.”
He must have noticed the pitiful look, because he immediately turned on Ryan and raised one finger off his glass to point. “You don’t give in to that, okay? No giving Micah any drinks even if he uses his puppy-dog eyes.”
“Of course,” Ryan said.
“Hey!” Micah looked affronted.
“That goes for the rest of you, too,” he told the others. “Kyle, I’m putting you in charge of keeping Micah away from any and all alcohol.”
The guy frowned as if he hadn’t heard him right, then turned to frown at them. “Huh?” He still stood a few steps apart from their group.
“You heard me. After this, I mean.” He twisted his own glass until the handle pointed at Micah.
The guy stared up with wide eyes.
“Only a sip.”
He nodded and took it with careful hands as if dropping it would be a death sentence, then raised it toward the rest of them.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” Finn called and stepped closer. They knocked their glasses together with another satisfying clink and took another sip. He pushed down [Hot Skin] a little more.
Micah’s face scrunched up on contact, but he didn’t stop halfway and only lowered the glass after a gulp as big as theirs.
“Don’t like it?” his dad asked.
“Not … yet?” he said, wiping his mouth as if to get rid of the taste, but still looked like he was grimacing on the inside.
Ryan tried his best not to smile at the expression. He had probably looked the same the first time he had tried any, but Micah made it difficult. It wasn’t like he would be laughing at him, if he did.
He really wanted to laugh with him.
“C’mon, let’s get something to wash that down for you,” his dad said and dragged him off.
They ended up inching up the road for a better view. His parents hovered for a little while, but slowly backed off. And it was just their small group then, though some were less social than the others, Kyle and Tim mainly stood off to separate sides of their group and watched the parade.
Firecrackers announced the head of the procession as children threw them ahead, followed by banners and ribbons, more people throwing sweets and confetti, and the band members and groups that followed.
The actual drummer kids walked next to wagons or spotted out throughout the lines, but the larger bands stood together. They all wore similar uniforms: pressed shirts, vibrant robes, polished shoes, and sashes. It was all spotless, from hair to— Well, there was grit on their shoes, but they were the image of prim and proper.
They looked good, was the best way Ryan could summarize it. They had probably spent even more time getting ready than him.
Actors moved papercraft figures and giant marionettes on decorated wagons. One had barrels and people walking next to it who would refill your cup for you if you only asked, or handed a few out on their own.
Three of them sat on a small stone ledge—Micah, Finn, and Jana. Lang almost leaned against her knees where he stood next to her. They caught sweets and small bags of penny snaps the few times the parade threw them far enough and made comments, but mostly watched in silence.
Invisible fireworks zipped off and crackled overhead. Snakes of firecrackers danced on the road. Ryan looked up at the warm colors and decorations all around them, almost all his favorite people he was surrounded by, his parents in the distance, a glimpse of Sol running through the crowd—probably up to no good. He wondered what he looked like in that moment.
Awe, like in that painting? If not that, then what? Finn’s comment from earlier still bugged him. He was … friendly, right? No? Didn’t he want to be?
He glanced down at his mostly-full beer, his friends, and raised his glass. They saluted him and shared yet another sip. He was really glad he could share that, at least, with them.
He felt happy.
Maybe this was enough? Or— No, not enough. He caught himself on the thought. He didn’t want to think of things being enough when they weren’t, but maybe … maybe it was a great first step?
And he already knew what the second one would be.
“Hold my beer,” he told Lang.
“Oh, no,” he said but took the glass anyway. “Nothing good ever follows after that phrase.”
Finn laughed and called, “Ryan, you had a few sips. You’re not drunk enough to do anything stupid yet!”
No, he wasn’t. Not that kind of drunk, at least.
He took a step back and ran his hands through the hair he’d spent half an hour on getting just right this morning. He ruffled it as much as he could while his friends watched in confusion and checked his distorted reflection in the dark window. It looked like something a cat would chase after, now, or a pile of hay.
It looked almost right.
Micah chuckled. “Ryan, what are you doing?”
He took one last look, accepted his glass back, and smiled at him. “Being a happy mess.”
----------------------------------------
New Year approached with a roar as the parade marched by and Micah was too impatient to stay until the end.
Ryan, Finn, and Lang finished their beers at the same time with a gasp, laugh, and slap on the back. Ryan collected the glasses and left to get their lending fee.
The moment he pushed into the crowd, Micah jumped off the ledge and told the others, “I need to duck out for a moment, too. I’ll see you back later at the center for grub?”
“Sure. Where are you headed?” Finn asked him.
“Westgate.” He smiled. “I invited Darren to come and I’m going two-for-two on the ‘maybes’.”
Finn said something with a smile, probably a send-off, but the fireworks drowned out his voice. Micah just nodded back and ducked into the crowd. He tapped Kyle where he leaned against a house corner, as if he could hide behind it, and took a few steps down the street away from the parade as he asked, “Hey, ‘you want to go to Westgate with me for an errand?”
He looked at him with his arms crossed and shook his head. “No. Sorry, Micah, but I’m leaving.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Yeah, I’m going to go—”
“What? No, stay,” he told him. “There will be food right after this, and cake, and games and stuff. Oh, and fireworks? We have way too many fireworks. You have as many as you like.”
He shook his head. “Yeah, no. Thanks for the offer, but I thought I had could come hang out and I … can’t.” He sighed and pushed off the wall. “You have fun, though. Thanks for the invite. Happy New Year and all that.” He took a step back toward the crowd, ready to leave.
Beneath the annoyed expression and avoidance, Micah thought he saw something all-too-familiar. “Oh,” he said. “Well, uhm, maybe you will have more fun next time?”
“I doubt that. You really should be clearer when you invite people to stuff like this. Just … for the future.”
He nodded. “Sorry. But thanks for coming anyway. And I’ll say bye for you to the others?”
“Sure. Do that. Whatever.”
“Happy New Year!” he called after him as the guy dipped into the crowd. He pushed his way through until he got to the street and simply crossed through a gap in the parade. Smoke rose from husks beneath his feet and confetti fell around him and he went back the way he’d came.
Damnit.
Micah felt like kicking something but he had just cleaned his shoes. He didn’t know what he had been expecting. Freaking Kyle. Why did he have to leave? Hopefully, he would still have a good night on his own anyway.
He shook off the thoughts and took his first few steps into a jog when Lang called out, “Hey, Micah! Wait up.”
“Huh?”
“Finn said you wanted to invite Darren?” he asked as he got closer. “Darren-Darren, as in from the classroom?”
“Yeah. Well, I mean I already invited him. He told me he wasn’t sure if he could come, but the parade in Westgate is probably going to end soon and I want to see if I can catch him halfway. Y’know, convince him in person?”
Lang stared at him. “Why?”
“What do you mean ‘why’?”
“Why would you— Why did you invite Darren?” he asked. “He’s not the type of guy you invite.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s just—”
“He’s cool.”
“No, he’s—”
“He is,” Micah insisted as he remembered. They hadn’t been friends in classroom, had they? Despite being in the same year as each other. “He’s cool. He’s an [Alchemist] just like me.”
“Yeah, but we don’t really know him, right? He’s not a friend or anything. So why would you invite him?”
“I know him. He can be my friend. And yours, too?”
“He’s bad news,” Lang said.
That was the most ridiculous thing Micah had heard today. “Darren couldn’t hurt a fly,” he told him and almost laughed.
“Not that kind of—” Lang stated and made an exasperated sound. “You could at least have asked us,” he said, “or warned us, or something before you invited him. You’d think you would have learned that after your whole mess with your exam.”
Micah gave him a bewildered look. Why was he trying to make this personal? “We all invited people. You invited Jana. I invited Darren—”
Lang immediately looked annoyed. “Don’t say it like that—”
“Like what?”
“Don’t compare it like that.”
“I’m just saying: We all invited people. I don’t know half the people back at the center but that doesn’t mean it has to stay that way. We can still celebrate New Year’s together with them, right?”
He groaned.
Micah stepped around to look him in the face and repeated, “Right? Can’t you give him a chance? He’s cool, I promise.”
Lang looked at him, hesitated for a second, and asked, “Can’t you just like … uninvite him?”
“What?” Micah smiled. “No.”
“Or just … do nothing?” he asked with a shrug. “If he shows up, he shows up. If not, too bad.”
“If I’m going to uninvite him, I’m at least going to have the balls to do it in person. But no, I’m not going to do that. It would suck.”
“Fine.” Lang threw his hands up. “Do whatever the fuck you want, Flower Boy.”
Micah remembered a conversation he’d had with Anne once before. She had said something similar. But that made him wonder what she was doing right now, and what Lisa was doing, and if they were having fun— He shoved thoughts aside and took a step back with a grin.
“I always do,” he told him.
Lang rolled his eyes and left. Micah jogged off to Westgate to get there before the parade ended.
Not every city district had a massive celebration. Some only had a few community get-togethers, but others threw their efforts together with neighboring ones to put something large on its feet.
Westgate did that with two of theirs. Their parade started all the way in the housing outside the city walls and ended at a large plaza inside them. The same one where they had had their color fight during the summer festival.
The parade was already over when he got there and he followed the backstreets until the led to the side of the public building near to the plaza. He thought it might have been the district hall or a theatre house or something. Maybe an old gym?
He had never really been inside, but he knew bands and dancers practiced there sometimes.
The sounds from the crowd were muted by the walls and he searched and found the mostly-abandoned festival wagons, but no drummer kids and no Darren. Had he missed him already?
Just before he rounded another corner, a side door opened and they came streaming out, in various states of changed clothing. They had their instruments with them in bags or cases, and he recognized Darren’s by his drum-shaped duffel rather than the guy himself. The difference was like night and day in his spotless uniform as he talked with his bandmates.
And for the first time since heading here, Micah felt a moment’s hesitation. What if Darren wasn’t the weird one, but he was? He had come all this way to convince someone who had only given him a shaky ‘no’ at best into celebrating New Year with them. What if he was about to celebrate with his friends, and Micah was making a fool of himself or being creepy?
Why had he really come? Just because everyone else he had invited had shot him down?
He didn’t get his answer. Darren said goodbye to the others and stepped away from the group on his own.
And Micah jogged up to him, only a little out of breath from coming all the way, and called out.
He almost jumped. “Oh, hey, Micah. The hell are you doing here?” He asked it with a smile.
“I was looking for you. I thought I might find you at the end of the parade—”
“Did you watch?”
He shook his head. “The other one, in Westhill. Probably not as impressive, though.”
“Oh, uh, thank you.”
“How was it?”
“Uh … pretty great. Pretty great,” he nodded to himself. “‘Almost screwed up in the middle when one of the kids threw a firecracker back over his head instead of to the front and we had to dodge aside—”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. You don’t want those anywhere near your instruments. But otherwise, yeah it was cool.”
He didn’t even know where they were headed, but Micah followed Darren down a side street. He probably knew the way.
“So, have you decided?” Micah asked.
“Decided?”
“If you want to celebrate with your family or us? Oh, no pressure!” he quickly added. “I just had someone else flake on me, so I wanted to know if you would come. I had some time to kill anyway.”
The others seemed busy with potential girlfriends and beer and— and Micah didn’t want to feel like a fifth wheel. Not that he expected the entire evening to be like that, but he had his own things he could do.
Like this.
Maybe that was why he had shown up? Independence. Autonomy. Micah liked the idea of those, in much the same way a drowned man liked the idea of air.
“Mm,” Darren considered and looked ahead, as if playing hard-to-get. “And it’s really Ryan’s birthday?”
“Yep. Sixteen. He’s celebrating already.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. With beer and friends and … ruffling his hair, for some reason. Not sure why. He was the one who styled it this morning.”
“Ah …?”
“Sorry. Just something funny he did. Oh, and you wouldn’t have to bring a present or anything. Our teammate also showed up, who later flaked on us, and he didn’t even have a present and Ryan still likes him. I can tell.”
They turned down another street and Darren adjusted the bag on his shoulder. He had his hands free this time to do it himself. He didn’t say anything for a while until he spoke in a quiet voice, “I don’t think Ryan likes me.”
“What?”
He nodded. “It’s true. He’s kind of …” He searched for the right words for a moment and shook his head.
“Oh, uhm, I think I know what you mean?” Micah tried.
“You do?”
“Yeah, but … it’s not that he doesn’t like you, it’s just that … Ryan needs to warm up to people?”
“Oh, no.” Darren smiled and repeated himself, “No, I know about that. I don’t mean that. I think he well and truly doesn’t like me.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, but there was more than a hint of exasperation in his tone. “We used to sit next to each other in classroom, you know? Before he switched seats to sit next to you.”
Micah nodded.
“But we sat next to each other since the first day of classroom. Not that we knew each other back then, and everyone was new and we hung out with classmates without even knowing their names, and— I’m getting off-track.”
Micah raised his eyebrows, Are you?
He smiled. “Yeah. I just meant, I was at his house, once or twice. We used to jump into the river with the other guys. And play alleyball together. We sat next to each other in classroom.”
“You used to hang out?” Micah asked.
“Yep. Us and a few others. He has this shared garden, you know? And a single huge tree with a swing I sat on. Some of us would try to swing up high enough to grab the branch above and climb up—” He smiled and shook his head. “His dad warned us that we could get hurt. ‘Didn’t tell us to stop doing it, though.” He went up with his voice and leaned over, as if to give him credit.
“David’s cool,” Micah mused, remembering the sip of beer. It had tasted horrible and weird, but he wished he could have more. There were bits of it in the air all around the crowds and he had to be good and not breathe that in to fit in.
It would be a stupid idea anyway.
He frowned and looked at Darren to ask, “So why did you stop hanging out with them?”
His friendly expression vanished. “I didn’t. They stopped hanging out with me. Out of the blue. Just from one day to the next without a warning.”
“What?”
He raised his shoulders up in another shrug, this time more frustrated or angry than exasperated. “I don’t know. Ryan would just ignore me in classroom and avoid me during the breaks. He wouldn't pick me for teams or invite me to stuff.”
Micah almost rolled his eyes. “So he didn’t pick you for his team?” he asked with a friendly enough tone, trying to keep it light-hearted.
“No, he didn’t want me to play alleyball with them at all. It was like something flipped from one day to the next and he hated me.”
He frowned. “Did he tell you this?”
“No—”
“Did he say anything else?”
“No. I just told you, he ignored—”
“But—”
Darren groaned. “I know what you’re trying to get at. That isn’t the issue, Micah. No, he didn’t ‘bully’ me or anything, but he suddenly just … would not talk or interact with me at all anymore. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
What was he supposed to say? Micah didn’t even truly believe him. It had probably been some kind of misunderstanding. This was Ryan they were talking about. He wouldn’t do that.
And even if—
“It doesn’t?” Darren asked, and sounded a little surprised.
“No?”
And even if … Micah wasn’t sure if he would care. That had been ages ago, right? He was sure he would have had a good reason for whatever he did. And even if not, he still wasn’t sure if he would have cared. Because it was freaking Ryan. He could have been the biggest asshole in the world to someone else and—
And Micah would still owe him … everything.
Right.
No, if anything, he was getting annoyed that people just thought they could talk crap about his friend around him. First Kyle during the exam and now this. Did he look like he invited that or something?
Micah might have been a gossip at worst, but he wouldn’t talk about his friends behind their backs. His birthday didn’t even factor it. It was just a shit thing to do.
“I’m just saying,” Darren said like he was defending himself, “it doesn’t exactly paint him in a good picture. And it would have been nice to know why he suddenly ignored me. If there was some reason, right?”
“Aha.”
Micah sped up his pace. Maybe Lang had been right. Maybe it had been a mistake to invite him after all.
But after a few steps, he turned around to walk backward. He wouldn’t be satisfied with just ignoring him. He liked Darren and it had probably been a misunderstanding anyway. They had to patch this up.
“So do you … resent him?” he tried. For feeling like he might have done something he didn’t?
His eyes flickered down as if he considered it, but when he looked ahead, he noticed Micah watching him and gave in with a sigh and huff. “No—”
Micah smiled.
“—I guess not. I mean, it would have been nice to know why, but …” He didn’t finish the sentence. “And it was mostly the other guys in their group anyway, you know? They liked Ryan more than they did me, especially after he got his Class early, and they noticed he didn’t like me so they excluded me, too. Some of them did say stuff, though.”
His smile fell. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
He knew from personal experience how uncomfortable unwanted attention could be. He had … come into the classroom far too excited, he knew. The first few weeks. He must have missed the memo or misunderstood how you were supposed to behave, what the other kids thought about having to go, but—
He’d learned to keep his head down, and then he had just wanted to level in peace, and he was lucky that the worst people called him was ‘Flower Boy’. Not that he minded that. He had made enough perfume that it was almost a surprise he hadn’t gotten the [Perfumer] Class.
He guessed the mixtures he made weren’t ‘real’ enough? They were mostly essence after all.
And everything had turned out mostly alright, aside from the issues looming over his head like guillotines he mostly ignored. His family, his aspirations, his stability, his future … his fears—
“Don’t be,” Darren said. He stopped and Micah shook the thoughts from his mind again.
He headed a few steps back to him. “So … will you give them a chance?” he asked. “They would definitely give you a chance, because I invited you. You could come celebrate New Year with us and fix some bridges? Or just have a great time.”
He hesitated.
“They’re really great? And there will be other people, and cake, and games, and fireworks,” he repeated, like it was some kind of advertisement. It hadn’t worked with Kyle so he didn’t know why he did it.
He wondered what would work with Kyle or if he would just go back to being Ryan’s grumpy roommate he spotted from time to time.
Either way, Darren’s expression cracked. He rolled his eyes a little with a sigh, and Micah smiled because he knew he had him.
“Alright,” he said. “Just let me drop my stuff off really quick and get some other things.”
He pointed a thumb at the house they stood next to.
Micah blinked and looked up at it. “Oh, is this your—”
“My parents’ house,” he said.
He looked around and frowned, noticed familiar signs and lanterns. “Wait, are we already all the way back in Westhill?”
Darren chuckled. “Yeah. You didn’t notice?”
“It was way too quick.” He looked over his shoulder. “Did we take a shortcut?”
“No? Which way do you usually take?”
“Oh, ah, uhm, ha.” Micah avoided eye contact and rubbed the back of his neck, then quickly said, “Nevermind. Hurry up! We don’t want to be late.”
“Alright, alright,” Darren told him and headed for the gate, “but we have to drop by another place first to tell my parents where I’m headed.”
“Sure, sure. Just go, go, go.”
He went inside with a smile and Micah waited. He was glad he had come here after all.