'Pontybridge, we have a hero in our midst! For on Friday night, while most of us remained blissfully ignorant in our beds, Mayor candidate Reginald Parker battled against an old evil. Not only did he successfully aid an interception of a white-supremacy-fuelled rave, but also saved a young boy's life. Zachary Phelps, 15, was walking home from a friend's house when repeat offender Tom Page hit him with his car and then left the scene. Phelps suffered minor brain trauma, a broken leg and a neck injury, but the young man says he does not 'want revenge.' Instead, he plans to set up an animal sanctuary, using the warehouse previously used to hold these raves (see bottom left). Reginald and his daughter, (see top right) Florence, plan to help him with this plan. If you wish to donate, further details and contact information are on PAGE 7.'
Lola Lamar, The Pontybridge Observer
Save for in formal newspaper articles, high school registration, and previous tense meetings with her Mum, Flo almost exclusively goes as just that. Flo. Florence, to her, has always reeked of the bourgeois and nursing pioneers, (who, while very admirable, did not have names too fit for less capable girls in the 21st century) and within just seconds of meeting somebody, she makes this very clear: no Florence, no touching her neck, (unless, of course, you were Lola, who could probably stab her in the kidney and make it feel good) and no asking about 'that little spell she did in the mental place.'
Jaguar hasn't previously had any difficulty adhering to these rules - he calls her Flo or Arsehole, never puts his hands in immediate vicinity to her neck, and skims over the issue of her mental illness with tact surprising for a boy who's spent a good deal of his life absolutely off his head. And so when he walks into her room, raises an eyebrow at the framed photo of her and Harper on her wall, and uses her full name very steadily, she knows that something is up. Specifically, she knows she's probably pissed Jaguar off by breaking Harper Hatley's heart. It's an upset one, upset another free kind of deal, with them, in the same way that everyone that does so much as look at Flo in the wrong way faces the full wrath of Shay Pierce. Right then, Flo feels incredible sympathy for the guy who had his Range Rover purposely backed into after calling her a stupid bitch
(It should be noted that not only did Shay back into his Range Rover, but she backed into his Range Rover with a tractor).
"So I finally got the truth out of Harper, this morning," he says, fixing his gaze on her. He's unnerving when he's sobered up - at least high, he can't keep his pupils focussed for much longer than a minute. "And Christ, Flo, I get that I told you to tell him, but you kissed Lola first? Why the fuck would you do something like that?"
Flo can think of a few reasons. One: Lola is quite possibly the person in possession of the most s ex appeal in South East England (not that, admittedly, there's exactly a lot of competition, the most common specimens being either enthusiastic middle-aged churchgoers or boys who think they're Eminem, and demonstrate this by wearing only low-crotch tracksuit bottoms and fake gold chains and talking loudly about 'murdering that pussy.') Two: Flo is, as has been pointed out, a stupid bitch. Three: they were there, and she got caught up in the moment, and it's no excuse but she had a chance to kiss Lola Lamar.
She shrugs. "I don't know," she says. (She does). And then, because that seems a kind of lackluster way to explain ripping someone's heart out, she adds: "it was stupid. I know that."
"But do you regret it?" Jaguar asks. She opens her mouth, but he cuts her off. "Don't even try, Flo. You know if you were sat back there in Lola's house then you'd kiss her all over again. Like, fuck, cheating is bad enough, but cheating on Harper? That's cruel. It really is."
"I know," she says, holding her hands up. "Trust me, I know. He told me he thinks nobody loves him, Jag. Not even you. And he kept talking about this anyway thing-"
"Right." Jag nods. "Harp's obsessed with the anyway thing. He has been ever since his first girlfriend told him she loved him even though he was disabled. His life is made up of anyways. He can't walk but he's happy anyway, you know? Never because. Always anyway. It must grate on you, after a while."
"I don't doubt it."
"Speaking of anyways," he says. "I think you two can still be friends - no, I'm serious. Harp doesn't hold grudges. Just another reason he was too good for you."
"Bit harsh."
"But true." He shrugs. "I'm not about to come up with an idea, for you, but all I'm saying is that if you figure out how to make up for this, then I'd be willing to help. Just give me a call, okay?"
"Okay," she says. "Thanks, Jag. And hey-" she stops him, catching the end of his sleeve as he turns to leave the room, "- I'm proud of you. For trying to get clean. You're doing well, you know that?"
"Yeah, well," Jaguar says, sniffing (and for once, it's not coke). "I do my best. Who needs drugs when you have Judge Rinder on series record, anyway?"
"You make a good point."
"So does Rinder." He tugs his arm free of her hold and smiles. "I'll see you later, Florence."
"Fuck off," she says, and then remembers something she's been wanting to use ever since Harper told her. "Percival."
"I swear to God, woman, I will make sure you never see Lola's tits again in your lifetime if you use that name again."
"Whatever you say, Perce."
"I'm leaving, now!"
"Give King Arthur my love!"
Jaguar flips her off as he leaves the room, and she lies back on her bed, content, for now, that everything is going to be alright - and if it isn't, then she can at least die safe in the knowledge that there's someone out there with an even more medieval name than her.
***
Flo has a dilemma, and whenever Flo has a dilemma, she finds Shay.
Hence, she's currently sitting at a kitchen table covered in glitter and wax crayons, helping a four year old colour in a picture of Prince Eric and Ariel and resisting the urge to start a commentary on why The Little Mermaid could actually be viewed as a feminist film (this is something that Flo feels increasingly passionate about, maybe just a little because Ariel's obsession with Eric reminds her a lot of her early Harper infatuation).
(She likes to think that, should a second film ever come out, then Ariel will realise she didn't like the Prince after all, but rather just his forks, and will promptly return to the ocean to hook up with another mermaid).
(There is, she admits, a small flaw in that she doesn't think lesbian mer-sex will quite qualify as a PG, but nevertheless, the idea is there).
"So," Shay says, as Vi grabs a handful of glitter and throws it in her face. "You little sh - shining angel. You absolute darling. I just love eating glitter!" She wipes her face with the tea towel and then turns to Flo. "My Mum says I'm too negative with her. She thinks it's going to impact her emotional well being, or something. But oh, when I was a baby, she left me to cry alone until I passed out from oxygen shortage. Sounds fair ... perfectly fair ... Rowan, babe, can you put a lid on that glitter?"
Rowan stops colouring in Eric's face (he's done it a tasteful purple, like Eric is dying of asphyxiation) and reaches for the tub of glitter, which he promptly knocks over. With a mutter of 'sh - sugar. I meant sugar,' Shay gives the pile of gold a defeated look and then shakes her head.
"I'll deal with that later," she says, ruffling Rowan's hair. The kid is likely to cry at any given moment, and it's this constant fragility that has made him Flo's favourite of all the Pierce children (and there isn't a shortage to choose from). "Anyway, back to Harper. We need a plan. Maybe, like ... a party, or something."
"I cheated on him, Shay. I don't think a banner and a can of lemonade is going to fix this one."
"Right. You're right." Shay takes a sip of her own can of lemonade and bounces Vi up and down on her lap. "More elaborate. I can do that. You say he thinks nobody loves him, right?"
Flo lets out a low groan. "Christ, Shay. Do you have to remind me?"
"Of the fact you shattered the poor boy's heart? Crushed his dreams? Ruined him like Vesuvius ruined Pompeii? Yes." She grins. "Lola's got me on the case. I have to make you feel so guilty that you never break up with anybody ever again."
"Well, you're doing your job." Flo sighs. "But do you have an actual plan?"
"Actually, I do. And all we need is Harper's Dad, a radio studio and - and bollocks, there's glitter down my boobs. Tell you what, I'll come over to yours, later, and we can plan this better. I'm presuming Reg won't throw art supplies on my tits."
"You never know, now he's thinking of trying out modern art ..."
"Well, my boobs certainly are that." She bats at them with her hand and a cloud of silver and gold sparkles flies into the air. Flo is reminded of a Lady Gaga she once attended with Christof - a slightly odd set-up, but he fell out with his wife a few days before and presumed that Flo would be a Gaga fan on the premise of her sexuality. She would have lectured him on stereotypes, but her argument became redundant the second they arrived in the car park to a rousing chorus of Born This Way by perhaps the gayest group of individuals Flo has ever encountered. "I'll be at yours when my Mum gets home, okay? Text Jag and ask him to come over, too."
"What exactly are you planning?"
"I, Flo, am planning the Harper Hatley Appreciation Broadcast, and it's going to be absolute genius."