Grandpa sneaks a pack of six puddings from his bag and snaps them, handing one to each oldie with a plastic spoon. “We’d all choke on popcorn. Let’s not scare the kids.”
Trent wags a finger. “And keep your teeth in.”
We’re seated in the middle back, with about ten minutes before the play’s supposed to start. I rest a hand on Trent’s shoulder and murmur, “I’ll find Moana.”
He meets my gaze with a nod and I jog towards the ruckus happening in the sport-equipment area off the main hall. Thirty-odd kids are dressed in varying shades of blue and green with the odd orange spotted between.
Moana yelps. “Dylan! You’re here. Cindy got sick and I’m running behind.”
I wade through fish, seaweed, and shells, excusing myself. Holly leans against the wall at the back, in a turquoise tutu and tights. Glitter sparkles around her eyes and her lips have been turned blue to match the ribbons streaming in her hair.
“Help me attach these waves to the last six,” Moana says, and I hoist up cardboard waves that settle on with straps and rise over the heads of the kids. They need safety-pinning into place, and it’s fiddlier than it first looks.
Finally, only Holly’s is left. Moana is ushering the kiddos out towards the stage in a neat line.
Holly grins up at me as she slides the straps on. “You’re back!”
“Fun holiday?”
She nods. “Can’t believe it’s already back to school on Monday.”
“Still a whole weekend to go.” A clip falls out of Holly’s hair and a streamer comes off.
“Can you put it back in?” she asks.
I carefully slide the clip. “Oops, sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ve got a mole there, Moana scratched it too. Said you have one right there as well. So does my mum. Funny coincidence.”
Coincidence.
Probably is. Moles can show up anywhere. Might be thousands of people with a mole just above their ear.
And yet . . .
Holly jerks a finger at me. “You have green eyes too!”
My hand shakes on the clip as I try again to place it. I chuckle. “If I were a girl, we could be twins.”
She snortle-laughs, and her gaze shifts behind me. I glance back, expecting Moana to be ushering us towards the stage, but it’s Trent. He stands between sport room and hall, watching us, a heaviness in his eyes. Like he overheard. Like he’s aching on my behalf.
“Okay, you’re all done.”
“Nervous,” she groans, moving shakily. “Mum will be watching.”
I still, and then nod. “How nice.”
“She promised she’d clap the loudest.”
A fist balls at my side and Trent is suddenly beside me, taking hold of my hand as Holly shuffles away. “Left Grandpa with John and Pat.” He blocks the view of the hall and rubs his thumb over my fist until it slowly loosens. But he’s upset.
It’s all messed up. Tell her.
She should know.
Confront your mum while you’re at it.
My jaw clenches; I try to rip my fist away. But he holds tight.Easy enough for you to say. This, whatever this is between us, is all messed up too. Tell him. He should know. Confront him about Ika while you’re at it.
