Spring, 2003
The early morning air was yet to burn off its winter chill as the coach pulled into the Brighton station bus terminal, its headlights bright beacons catching in the mist. Lou bounced on the balls of his feet beside me, hands fisted deep in the pockets of his overcoat.
"Thank fucking Christ, I thought I was gonna die of hypothermia before this radge cunt showed up," he muttered, his breath hanging suspended in the frigid air. Despite my frozen nose and cheeks I couldn't help but smirk at his outburst, but quickly wiped it from my face as the bus doors clattered open to reveal a scowling driver.
The man's considerable paunch sat so swollen on his lap that his arms had to strain to reach the steering wheel. Flicking a quick glance at Lou, my heart jolted as I realised his mouth was opening to make a comment. He emitted a muffled sound of indignation as I slapped a hand across his mouth to stop him, grinning angelically up at the driver. The man's scowl eased slightly at this, then increased tenfold as Lou sprung lithely up the steps of the bus, flashing our tickets up from out of the navy folds of his coat.
They were snatched from his hand and scrutinised closely, Lou standing with his hands folded neatly behind his back like a pleasant private school boy awaiting instruction.
"I'm sure you'll find everything's in order," he cheerily assured the driver with his best shit-eating grin. Unamused, the portly man grudgingly scanned the tickets before nodding us onboard. Shouldering the holdall of our collective belongings I practically scuttled past him as I followed Lou up the aisle, shaking my head in exasperation as he skipped down to to the backseat.
The bus rumbled into life once more, pulling out of the shelter and rejoining the 5am traffic that was already beginning to leak onto the A27. I couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as I watched the city roll away, replaced by long stretches of grass and trees. Holdall at my feet, head resting on the windowsill, I could feel the pull of sleep finally calling to me after the nightmare of the past 48 hours.
"Slo, wake up."
Cracking a lead-heavy eyelid, I glared at my older brother with an intensity I hoped equalled that of the disgruntled driver.
"Aw come on now, none of that," Lou teased gently, using his cold hand to pretend to try and smooth out the frown lines on my forehead, "The wind will change and you'll look like a grumpy old cow forever."
"Thanks to your shite talking radge arse I'm definitely gonna fuckin age prematurely," I retorted, laughing as I batted his hands away, "In which case I'll be looking like a grumpy old cow forever anyhow!"
Lou leaned back to scrutinise my face, pursing his lips as if deeply considering my words, before coming in close to stage whisper, "Aye, I think it's already too late for you: bloody dead ringer for that old geezer up there driving the bus."
Snickering, he ducked to avoid my hand as I attempted to cuff him around the head, before growing suddenly serious. I watched the mirth leave his eyes, leaving them flat and grey in the morning light.
"I'm sorry about all this, Sloane," he murmured, looking down at his empty hands instead of my face. I jolted at the sound of my full name, unused to hearing anything other than various nicknames and aliases instead. It made my skin prickle with unease, it conjured up memories better forgotten.
"Sorry we're leaving Whitehawk? I'm sure as hell not," I deflected easily, shoving him playfully in an attempt to break him from his uncharacteristically somber mood. When it didn't work, my agitation only grew, leaving me no choice but to play my wildcard.
"It was so great of Birdie to get us both a job at that carnival place she's working at," I said casually, watching Lou's face from out the corner of my eye. At the mention of his long-suffering girlfriend, his eyes lit up once more, a crooked smile stretching across his features. As relief flooded through me I continued, "Even with such short notice, she really pulled through for us. Do you reckon you've got yourself a guardian angel?"
"More like a real live angel," he replied dreamily, before adding wryly, "at least as close to an angel that COMART could ever produce."
I sniggered at the mention of our old secondary school, East Brighton College of Media Arts, which had been lazily dubbed "COMART" by the community and threatened closing down multiple times despite intentions of grandeur from the local council. Lou had left the place several years before I finally finished last year, but he'd taken the ethereal Birdie with him and they'd never looked back.
Even as I internally laughed at my brothers dopey love-drunk expression, I caught myself smiling along with him at the thought of the waif-like girl with perpetually bare feet. It'd only been a month since she moved out of our squalid shared flat on the estate, but we'd both missed her terribly. I closed my eyes, imagining how nice it'd be to hear her light breathy laugh again as she tried to plait the thick mess of dark knots that was my hair.
Leaning against the shuddering windowpane of the bus, the sounds of traffic melted into comfortable white noise as I felt sleep finally pull me under and into pitch black.
-----
Tusspot Fairgrounds was already a hive of activity by the time the coach slowed to a brake-squeaking stop at its wrought iron gates. Carnival employees were helping to back a supply van through the entryway, yelling instructions and gesticulating wildly to the increasingly stressed driver craning his neck to see through his rear window. Between the bars of the fence I could see an unlit carousel being cleaned, unglamorous and almost dingy in the stark daylight. A popcorn stand was having fresh corn kernels poured into it, and further along I was sure for a moment I could see large plush toys being rehung on their sideshow prize hooks.
Lou saluted the bus driver as he dismounted, whilst I offered what I hoped was an appeasing "thank you" before quickly following my brother out and into the sunlight beyond. It was almost blinding after the dimness of the bus, and in the few seconds it took for my eyes to adjust, the boy vanished into the fair. I was left standing alone at the edge of that alien world, blinking dazedly and wondering if I could do this after all.
I want to go home.
The thought surfaced from beneath the six feet of earth I'd tried to bury it under, taking hold of my heart and squeezing before I could force it back. There was no home to go back to, at least not one that was safe. I could see it in my minds eye from when I'd gone to collect our things last night: picked over by police, then ransacked by our vulturelike neighbours. The darker patch on the wall where the TV should have been, the broken plates scattered across the linoleum kitchen floor.
I shook my head angrily to try and push the thoughts from my head, breathing deeply before looking back to the hustle and bustle beyond the gates. I had to do this, there was no other choice. The only choice I had was how I dove into it all; weak and unwilling, or brave and unyielding.
This is for you, Lou.
Head held high, I marched through the fairground gates like a soldier going to war. My trainers felt light on the lush grass, the freshly cropped blades springy underfoot. Dodging past some employees unloading supplies boxes in their yellow and red striped uniform shirts, I followed the grassy main walkway in search of my wayward brother. It felt tiresomely typical of him to run on ahead, but unusual that he hadn't reappeared with a scout report on whether or not the coast was clear. A flash of what was possibly the same navy as Lou's overcoat caught my eye on my far right, and I turned my head sharply to follow the sight as I strode forward -- and straight into something.
My knee connected first, followed closely by the side of my head smashing full force into a hard warm wall.
"Oof!" Exclaimed the wall, as my momentum sent us both toppling earthward, landing in a tangle of flailing limbs.
Not a something then; a someone. Whoever it was let out a faint groan of pain, muffled against my shoulder as they lay dazed beneath me. I could feel the sound vibrating in the bony cavern of their ribcage from where my hips pressed against it. A kind of hysterical urge to laugh bubbled up my throat, alongside a guilt-ridden embarrassment which lit my cheeks up scarlet.
Scrambling to my feet in panic I turned to see a boy sprawled belly-up on the lawn, eyes scrunched closed in pain as his hands moved up to rub the bruised back of his bright blue-haired head. I couldn't help but stare for a moment at the unexpected dye job before I offered a bashful hand towards his prone form.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to knock you over... or fall on you. Or elbow you in the head. None of the above really," I rambled, internally screeching at myself for sounding so utterly lame and tongue-tied. My hand wilted in an awkward wait for a response as the blue haired boy massaged his temples for a few moments, eyes still closed as if in pain. Then they opened, the lids lifting to reveal only black beneath, his chin jutting up as he looked towards me. An electric current spiked through my body, jerking it like a puppet in response. The proffered hand flinched, and I felt shame hot and burning on my cheeks as the boy noticed, wincing at my reaction. Breathing deeply through my nose in an attempt to calm the jittering embarrassed nerves suddenly alive in my stomach, I smiled widely at him before reaching forward and taking his hand in both of mine, having to strain hard as I helped pull him to his feet. Once upright, he towered over me by almost an entire foot. His limbs were lanky on his wiry build, posture slouched. The boy offered me a grateful smile in return, and I tried to remain outwardly nonchalant as I saw that several of his teeth were missing, the most prominent ones being his two front incisors. The effect created was what looked like the grin of a gap-toothed child who'd just proudly lost their first few baby teeth.
Unsure what to say, I managed to stutter a repeated, "I-I'm really sorry," looking at first the sky and then my own dirty shoes to avoid having to look into the strange black abyss that filled the entirety of his eyes. Feeling like an arsehole, I finally managed to look at his face again to add, "I really need to learn to look where I'm going."
"S'awright, I'm kind of prone ta accidents," he assured me with a sheepish grin, waving a hand as if to bat away the apology. Blinking once in surprise at the clumsy wavering lilt of his voice, I found myself smiling genuinely back. Standing almost toe to toe with the strangely striking boy, warmth flickered alight somewhere in the pit of my stomach; a candle wavering golden in the darkness down there. My cheeks went hot at the sudden sensation, unsure exactly as to why. So far, in every way possible, he had defied expectation. Trying to interact with him was like walking down a hallway whilst the rug was repeatedly yanked out from under your feet.
His dark eyes watched me for a moment longer, before he outstretched one long arm to offer me his hand to shake, mouth opening to speak.
"Nice t'meet you anyway though, I'm -"
"Stuart!"
The deep male voice cut him off as it rang out across the grass boulevard, the two of us whirling to see a tall bespectacled man striding towards us, followed closely by Lou and Birdie. Suddenly self conscious at the close proximity the blue haired boy and I shared, I took a large step back so as to stand skulking as they reached us. I could feel the prickle of my brother's gaze as it flicked between the boy and I, his jaw setting as he decided something.
"As I was saying, Lou, you'll be helping Stuart here on The Switchback Ride," the man informed my brother, clapping a familiar hand on the other boy's narrow shoulder, "Stuart collects the customer ticket stubs. He was in charge of operating the ride but there was an incident -"
"Well 'ello then! Lou, wassit? Great to meet ya," Stuart interrupted, his voice squeaking in his enthusiasm to silence whatever was about to be said. Offering a hand, he flicked a particularly dour glance at the older man before he added, "I'm 2D."
One of Lou's brows raised at the conflicting new name, lips curling into a smirk.
"But you look so three dimensional," my brother sighed, feigning confusion, "These damn eyes, always messing me around with that depth perception shite."
Birdie stamped down hard on his foot, pale face remaining deceptively impassive. Lou grinned in response, loving that he'd gotten a rise out of her. In an exaggerated show, he looked back into the other boy's black eyes, before miming a gasp.
"Oh god! I'm so sorry, I guess you wouldn't know what depth perception is like," he gushed, before the facade broke, replaced by a wide grin as Lou finished finally, "since you have those holes where your eyes should be."
I felt my cheeks go red hot in shame at the needlessly cruel joke. Lou turned from 2D to smile charmingly at the man he'd arrived with, a shining halo of pretend innocence almost visible above his head. The older man half-smiled back, unaware his employee had just been the butt of a cruel joke. Hands in pockets and shoulders rounded, I snuck a glance at the lanky boy beside me. He looked bored, eyes half lidded as he took in Lou's jibe. They both sized each other up, tension hanging like static in the air between them. The older gentlemen glanced at them both with concern across his kindly features before his gaze finally fell on me.
"Oh, and you must be Sloane then? I'm Mr Pot, proprietor of Tusspot Fairground," the older man carried on obliviously, gesturing to me with a large hand whilst the other scratched at the widows peak of his thinning brunette hair, "Stu- ah I mean, 2D, I'd introduce you to Sloane over here, but it appears you've already met. Sloane is Lou's younger sister."
At the labelling of me as a blood relative of the boy who'd just insulted someone with no provocation, I felt my stomach sink. 2D was going to think I was some sort of an arsehole now for sure, as if callousness were a genetic trait. He'd never smile at me or want to shake my hand again, the thought of which left me aching without knowing exactly why. Confused at my own irrational fretting, I tried desperately to regain some sort of grip on reality. Why should it matter if some random carnival worker thought I was an arsehole? Lou was all I had in the world, for as long as I could remember it had always been that anyone who had a problem with my belligerent brother had a problem with me. Yet here I was, for the first time in my life uncomfortable over the association due to the presumed opinion of a perfect stranger. It made no sense; I couldn't afford to make friends here, couldn't afford to form attachments when so much was at stake.
You're here to watch Lou's back, not waste time with temporary distractions. Snap out of it.
The savage inner voice felt like a slap, and I glanced up to see 2D had ceased his testosterone fuelled staring competition with my brother and was now instead looking at me once more, the gap-toothed grin back in place. His hand reached out and took mine before I could offer it, enclosing warmly around my slender fingers like a glove. He shook it gently from side to side, studying my dazed expression with faint bemusement while I tried to smother the soft glow that had begun behind my sternum.
It occurred to me only once he'd let go how hard it was going to be to stay focused.