The Golden Party | Aidan Gallagher

09. the party of victors

– the party of victors –

Scout

Night has fallen. A calm wind, though chilly still, forces the trees to dance in the dark for no one but its own and the birds' entertainment. On Fridays, this has only one meaning for me: volleyball. All ready with my grey sweatpants and a T-shirt with long sleeves for the iciness the night brings today, I stride toward the sports hall. I breathe in, catching the faint smell of the outlet of a motor that's passed only seconds ago. I watch its lights fade away until it's all gone before entering the building.

      I squint my eyes through the darkness – the darkness? I'm the first teammate to get inside. The first one to arrive? Can't be.

      Right?

      Without any lights, I make my way deeper into the sports hall, easily finding her way to the usual hall. There is absolutely no sound except my footsteps on the flat floor. They echo and echo until I stand still in the middle of the hall. There's not a single person inside, no net hung up.

      Being new and all, I decide to simply sit down on the cold floor underneath me. I fight the cold and allow my eyes to become more confident and known in the dark. My right hand fumbles with my left. It does so for minutes. No one comes, but I focus myself on the darkness, only that on my mind.

      Until other thoughts come to join it.

      Have they left me alone? Did they change training halls? Did they just decide to not train today without informing me? I am new, after all...

      After about twenty long minutes of silence and utter darkness, I rise to my feet. The water bottle between my hands feels like lead now. Without a team or even a volleyball in sight, the place is terribly nightmarish. The air I breathe almost feels polluted by the realisation I've been left alone.

      My teammates aren't coming. Are they even my teammates at all? I don't know, I realize then. I really do not know. Knowing that, I sigh, grab my backpack from next to me, and find my way outside once again.

❅

Euphoria

The air feels almost electric, and at the same time a certain sweetness is traceable when one breathes in. Behind the glass, all kinds of pastries are shown, attracting many customers in the tiny coffeeshop.

      "Two eclairs?"

      "Yes, please," the elderly woman answers softly, her eyes glued on the plates resting in the palm of Euphoria's hands. With a smile, she places the two desserts onto the small, green wooden table. The woman licks her lips already, having not even tasted the éclair. "I can never get enough of the desserts you bake, dear," she tells the girl.

      "You want to hear a secret?" Euphoria asks, her eyes sparkling beautifully, and the woman shuffles closes in response. "Me neither. The woman chuckles, and Euphoria grins. "No, but really, it makes me happy you like what I bake."

      "well, I adore your cakes – oh, and your cookies!"

      "And the cookies," Euphoria repeats the words with a laugh. "Enjoy your tea and eclairs, Miss Bennet and Mister Eeck." Stuffing themselves already, the couple kindly thanks her, and Euphoria finds her way right back behind the counter. Her boss, who's busy placing a patch of freshly-baked cupcakes on top of the oven. She nods her head toward Euphoria, gesturing toward the pastries from right out of the oven.

      "What day is it again, Euph?" Euphoria's boss is no one other than Marianne, a thirty-seven-year-old woman, who's heart beats for her teeny tiny coffeeshop that's best known in town. A gem.