‘Let the best fan win,’ he says.
I nod. ‘I will, thank you.’
Hennie is observing the scene with fascination, smiling to herself and twirling a smooth icy blonde lock around her fingers.
‘Good luck to you, kid. I hope you’ve realised by now there’s absolutely no way you’re winning this,’ she says to him with a mocking salute. She’s right.
I realise that I still don’t know his name.
‘I’m Nora, by the way. It’s nice to meet… um, a fellow Queen Ego fan,’ I lie.
‘And neighbourhood thief,’ Hennie utters.
‘Nora.’ His eyes bore into mine, that small smile still tugging on his lips. ‘I’m Elliot.’
‘And I’m Hennie,’ she adds.
‘I gathered,’ he says with a touch of warmth.
‘Okay, well – as much as it pains me, we may as well make the best of this scenario and try to actually have a bearable weekend–’
‘He’s alive! My boy!’ a voice rings out.
‘Elliot, watch–’
‘He’s alive!’
I twist around in confusion to see two men running at us through the remains of the crowd with huge smiles and one of them collides with Elliot so violently he nearly knocks him to the ground. Sadly, Elliot’s grip on the drumstick is absolute.
‘Answer your phone, you freak,’ he says, backhanding Elliot’s shoulder good-naturedly. He’s all long, sharp edges and crooked teeth as they gleam in possibly the biggest smile I have ever seen, it would almost appear frightening if it weren’t so impossibly endearing. His face is framed with dirty-blonde hair sticking up at mad angles that’s been tucked inside a white bandana, and he towers over everybody by at least a foot. I actually have to tilt my head back to look at him.
He notices Hennie and I with a frown. ‘Oh my God,’ he says with genuine astonishment as he eyes us. ‘Are you actuallytalkingto people? Have you madefriends?’
‘No, he hasn’t,’ I cut in with a glower.
‘Oh, really?’ he replies, looking absolutely delighted. ‘That makes more sense. Could you elaborate please? What has he done now?’
‘We waited for you,’ his other friend interrupts with apology in his tone. ‘Couldn’t hold Ham back, sorry.’ This guy seems more like Elliot in manner; he’s measured and self-assured but he gives us a warm smile nonetheless. He has deep-brown skin and short, thick braids, and is wearing an outfit that potentially rivals Hennie’s in boldness: an oversized neon orange sweatshirt with a vintage-looking logo and baggy jeans.
‘Sorry, guys. I got – um.’ Elliot’s gaze flicks to me. ‘Caught up.’
I feel my face flush at the way he says it, like I’m a nuisance. Which, technically, I suppose I am.
Elliot gestures to the tall man who is leaning happily on his shoulder with the lopsided grin. ‘This is Ham–’
‘My name isJosh, actually,’ he says sharply.
‘Otherwise known as JoshHamilton, which is why everybody calls him Ham,’ his other friend explains.
‘Yes, a name I am still unsuccessfully trying to shake off, no thanks to these pricks,’ Josh snaps as he shakes Hennie’s hand with vigour. ‘Tremendous eyebrows,’ he adds matter-of-factly to her.
‘Thanks,’ she says with a grin.
‘This is Owen,’ Elliot says, motioning to his other friend.
He gives us a polite nod and I can’t help but notice the deep dimples that appear when he smiles. The combination of them with his eager eyes and open expression is immediatelydisarming, so disarming that I must admit I’m surprised Elliot seems to be friends with him.
‘So…’ Owen starts, nodding down at the drumstick. ‘What’sthisall about?’
