Callie was still looking at her. Not like a stranger. Just like… Callie.
And in that one unbearable instant, Mae felt the echo of everything they’d ever been.
Back Then
The summer after they finished school was too bloody hot.
Mae and Callie spent the most oppressive afternoons in the patchy shade of the old ash tree next to a pond. The locals insisted on calling it ‘the wishing tree’ even though it mostly dropped caterpillars down people’s shirts.
Callie lay on her back on the grass, arms tucked behind her head. She was talking about her latest almost-relationship.
‘He’s got this laugh,’ Callie said, squinting at the branches. ‘It’s goofy, but in a nice way.’
Mae, back up against the ash tree, plucked a blade of grass and tore it in two. ‘No idea who you mean.’
‘Youdo. He’s the one from the year above who was in that band that played that party.’
‘The one who serenaded you with “Wonderwall” for thirty seconds before his strings snapped?’
‘Exactly.’ Callie grinned lazily. ‘He’s been sniffing around again. Asked if I wanted to “hang out properly”.’
Mae rolled her eyes. ‘Translation: he wants another go.’
‘Well, he’s not getting one.’ Callie stretched her legs out, ankles crossing. ‘I’m done with guitar boys with stupid hair.’
‘That’s most of the boys in this village,’ Mae said.
‘I might have to look beyond. Or go older.’
Mae snorted softly. ‘At this point, you’d have to.’
Callie turned and raised an eyebrow, pretending offence. ‘Are you calling me the village bike?’
Mae considered. ‘You’re more of a bus stop. Everyone waits there, but not everyone has the correct fare.’
Callie laughed, bright and easy. ‘The problem is that there’s nothing to do around here. Except try to get laid.’
‘Theproblemis that you’re the best-looking girl in the Westerleigh,’ Mae said simply.
Callie lifted her head, surprised. ‘What?’
Mae tutted. ‘Not repeating it.’
Callie blinked and looked away, and Mae thought she was slightly embarrassed, which was very un-Callie. ‘Well. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in any of them,’ she said quickly.
‘This week,’ Mae said.
‘Oh, shut up.’
Mae smiled. She liked to tease Callie about the ridiculous boys, the fleeting dramas, the constant hopeful faces turning up at the bakery to smile at her best friend while ordering a cream horn. And Callie liked to be teased. It was their thing.
‘You should date someone normal,’ Mae said.
‘Define normal.’
‘Someone who doesn’t write poems about your eyes.’
Callie laughed. ‘God, I forgot about that.’
