Though I never wanted them, they became my secrets too. My friends all know that I’m gay, and I hated having to keep our relationship hidden from them, but I forced myself to do it until Leah was ready. I was sure that in a few months she’d come out, and that all this sneaking around would seem cute and silly in hindsight.
It does seem kind of silly now. Especially given the other secrets she must have been keeping. Maybe, if she hadn’t been so stressed about what was going on with us, she would have talked to me about what was happening between her parents. Maybe she would have warned me that her mum was planning to leave. I still don’t fully understand what was going on, but it must have been bad if she can’t even call to tell me about it, even now.
Suddenly Perry starts to bark. For a second I think she’s proved me wrong and tracked down the feathers, but then I notice the pond: a few dozen ducks and a couple of swans elegantly glide over the water, sending ripples over the reflection of the ruin. Before I can grab the leash, she bounds off and races down the hill.
‘Perry, no!’
The two figures by the water’s edge look up as this streak of white comes zipping towards them. One of them, a fair-haired boy, lifts a camera and takes a photo just as Perry plunges into the water. The ducks explode into a horrified chorus of quacks; the swans skate by, beaks gracefully tilted in disapproval.
‘Perry!’ I shout. ‘Out! Now!’
She paddles over to the edge of the pond and climbs out, looking very soggy and a bit sheepish. I lean down to grab her collar, but she slips out of my grasp and shakes herself dry, splashing me and the people on the bench. They groan and laugh, covering their faces with their hands. I spin around to apologize, but the words catch in my throat. It’s them, the protesters – the kids outside Celeste’s restaurant on Tuesday.
‘Sorry,’ I stammer. ‘She’s obsessed with birds. Thinks they’re her friends.’
‘Don’t worry about it.’ The girl smiles. ‘I’m a bird fan too. I mean, I wouldn’t jump in a pond for them or anything, but they’re pretty awesome.’
I laugh. Probably a little too loud, but I don’t think I’ve properly laughed since I came to Edinburgh. There’s almost something nostalgic about it, like rediscovering a forgotten favourite song on your iPod.
The girl cocks her head to one side. ‘Do I know you from somewhere? You look really familiar.’
‘I think I saw you the other day, actually,’ I say. ‘Protesting, I mean. Outside that restaurant.’
‘That’s it!’ She gives me a double thumbs-up. I feel my cheeks burn, but I return her grin. If she’s taking the piss, it’s not in a mean way. ‘We went back yesterday, but the guy called the police on us for real. I was all up for chaining myself to the railings, but Calculus here was too chicken.’
She nods to her brother, who shoots her a dirty look. His eyes are the same colour as his sister’s – warm brown, surrounded by a ring of mahogany – but while his don’t really stand out hers look almost black against her pale skin. It’s pretty.
‘Sorry for not wanting a criminal record.’ His fingers are still poised around his camera, ready for the next picture. ‘I don’t really fancy spending the rest of the holidays in juvy.’
His sister rolls her eyes. ‘You’re such a drama queen. You know all they’d have done is taken down our names and told us to piss off.’ She sticks out her hand for me to shake. ‘I’m Allie, by the way. This is Calum, my twin.’
‘Jaya,’ I say, ‘and this is Perry. After Katy Perry. My sister has shit taste in music.’
They laugh. It’s not actually true. I got Perry in the height of my ‘Teenage Dream’ obsession when I was ten and named her myself. But, whatever – it feels good to make somebody laugh.
‘I’m with your sister. “Roar” is one of the best pop songs ever written.’ Allie pushes herself off the bench and hops towards the edge of the pond. She’s bone thin and short, eight or ten centimetres smaller than me, but somehow she doesn’t look it. It’s the way she holds herself – like she’s about to give a speech, or break into a ballet dance. ‘So, do you live here?’
She treads around the edge of the water, spreading her arms like a tightrope walker. The sleeve of her jumper falls down, revealing a tattoo on her right wrist: a blue-grey rose, outlined in navy ink, with two petals falling towards her elbow.
‘No. Well, for a wee while. My dad’s working down here for a few weeks.’ The lie feels awkward, but they’d be disgusted if they knew the real reason we came to Edinburgh. ‘How about you?’
I’ve never been very good at chatting to people I don’t know. I usually make friendships like the old masters painted landscapes: slowly, with lots of colour and details. I don’t rush in – but they end up beautiful, and they tend to last.
But with Allie it’s easy: she’s so friendly, so open and smiley, that it brings out the more talkative side of me too. She tells me they’re seventeen – though Calum’s just finished school, and Allie’s going into S6, like me, as she had to repeat a year for ‘some boring health shit’ – and that they’ve spent the whole summer so far protesting what she calls ‘Being exploitation sites’. In addition to Celeste’s, they’ve picketed outside the merch stalls by St Giles’ Cathedral, a nightclub called Broken Wings and even a theme park outside Newcastle with a rollercoaster called The Fall.
‘So far our success rate has been about 0.001 per cent,’ Allie admits. ‘The people who think like us don’t go to these places, and the ones who do just don’t give a shit. They don’t see the Beings as living creatures.’
‘I know what you mean,’ I say, thinking of the Being back at Shona’s. ‘Nobody is thinking about why they’re falling, what that could mean for them.’
‘Yes!’ She throws her hands into the air. ‘That’s exactly what I said. God, it’s so nice to meet someone who gets it.’
There’s a click. When I look around, Calum has his camera pointed at Allie and me sitting on the bench, catching us mid-conversation. He’s much quieter than his sister: he’s only spoken a couple of times, to add a few details to a story or rebuke one of Allie’s exaggerations, before turning back to his camera, framing the fluid movement of the ducks and the colours of the setting sun on the water.
He smiles awkwardly and digs his hands into his pockets. ‘We should get going,’ he says to Allie. ‘I want to take some more photos before it gets dark.’
Allie nods seriously. ‘Yeah. You do that, Calico. The world really needs more pictures of sunsets.’ She stands up, smoothes her skirt out and smiles at me. ‘Nice to meet you, Jaya.’
‘You too,’ I say. ‘Good luck with the protests.’
There’s a pause. I want to suggest we hang out, but I don’t want to come across too keen. I don’t know how things are done here. Back home, it’s easier to get talking to strangers – there are so few of them in our village that it’s kind of natural to be curious – but obviously things are different in the city. After a beat, I’ve left it too long: the opportunity’s gone. We awkwardly say our goodbyes, and they walk off towards the car park.
This time, I actually do kick myself, right on the shin. I’m such an idiot. Who cares if they thought I was weird? At least I would have had someone to talk to other than my Wingdinger family and my dog.
Unless.
‘Hey, wait a second.’
They turn around. I blink at them, my mind wrestling with my tongue. I shouldn’t tell them this. I’ve only just met them, and I don’t know if I can trust them, but then they’re obviously pretty passionate about Beings’ rights, so surely they wouldn’t –
I’m already saying the words.
‘I think I know something you might want to take a photo of.’
TEN
‘Holy shit.’
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Rufffff!’