You Caught Me Singing on Broadway

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content warning: this chapter contains themes of depression. although slightly vague, if you are uncomfortable, please feel free to skip that conversation between (y/n) and james.

It was a shock to see James stood with Frankie, chatting to him with a carefree smile, hands in the pockets of his jeans. When he saw you approaching, the smile widened and he waved you over.

'You took your time getting here,' he commented.

'It's busy,' you argued with a frown. 'I had to find the streets with less people on.'

'Glad you got here, at least,' Frankie piped up, slinging an arm over your shoulder. 'So, what's the plan?'

You shrugged, looking around. You knew that the high street connected to the square, which was filled with stalls and lights, would be the sensible place to go after the parade made its rounds. Sure, it would be busy, but you'd just have to suck it up and deal with it.

'We can go see what kind of stalls there are,' you suggested. 'I'm sure at least one will be interesting.'

'They were pretty good last year. I mean, they had cheese wheels bigger then my head.'

The three of you ambled towards the square, pausing to watch the parade creep up the street.

The parade was made of several vibrant floats with dancers and musicians either stood on the floats or walking alongside them. The majority of the floats were different to the floats used in previous parades, but the one at the back was the same as it was every year. It was a simple float made to look like a grassy hill. On top of the grassy hill was a straw woman tied to a stake, arms tied behind her back. She was dressed in the clothes associated with the common folk from the Georgian Era.

Everyone in town knew who she was; as the accidental founder of your town, it had been deemed disrespectful to not know who she was. Obviously that wasn't the case in modern times, as people moving into the town won't know every single piece of its history, but the mayor had once said in a speech: 'We can still honour her sacrifice for freedom and equality by living our lives freely and equally. She may not be remembered, but she will never be forgotten.'

(Yeah, you never understood that speech. Why do politicians have to speak in riddles all the time? Speaking normally is so much easier for everyone to understand.)

A dancer dressed in elegant purple waved at you as she passed, and blew a kiss in Frankie's direction. You gave her a sharp glare. It was so not the night to deal with people trying to flirt or 'be nice' with him, but you weren't going to put up with some random teacher from the pre-prep at James' school trying to worm her way into the night Frankie had promised to spend with you. Sure, you were protective over Frankie, but after what you'd been through, could you really be blamed? All you did was glare at people a little, it wasn't like you went out threatening them or egging their house.

'Hey, that was mean,' Frankie said, gently prodding you in the shoulder. 'What was that for?'

'Don't like her,' you replied stubbornly. 'She's rude to the pre-prep kids. James, back me up.'

James nodded in agreement. 'For someone who's a teacher, she really doesn't do well with kids. My friend's cousin is in her class, and he once told my friend that she shouts at them if they do something wrong.'

'Shit.' Frankie's eyes widened. 'She's not meant to do that, is she?'

'Probably not, but it isn't illegal.'

'It should be. Didn't you two have a teacher who shouted a lot back in year nine...?'

You nodded and James said, 'Yeah. Mr Hutton. He was horrible.'

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