We hang up after saying our goodbyes and I’m instantly aware that Elliot is looking at me with vague interest.
‘What?’ I ask shortly.
‘Didn’t fill her in?’
‘I didn’t see the need,’ I say lightly, trying to wrestle my phone into my bag one-handed. ‘She’ll only worry that you’re secretly plotting my death.’
‘Oh,’ he says, sounding a little bit guilty. ‘I’m guessing I don’t want to get on the wrong side of Suzie if she’s anything like you.’
‘Actually, we’re not alike at all. She’s very pleasant. You’d probably like her,’ I jest.
He frowns.
‘You sisters?’ he asks, nodding at Hennie.
‘Nope, just close.’
He nods as if this makes sense. Probably because we do not lookanythingalike: Hennie Cross is a beautiful, tiny, elf-like being with gorgeous and captivating features. I, on the other hand, am a towering, frizzy-haired, heavily freckled, large-toothed, deeply awkward creature.
We all walk together until The Magpie stage comes into view, taking up a spacious corner otherwise occupied by forest. The stage has been haphazardly pieced together with planks of wood, logs and thick branches to look almost nest-like, especially with its placement slotted amongst the trees. A beige and orange tarp has been suspended across the top, tied to tree branches on either side of the stage. Huge fuzzy ladybirds and caterpillars made of old quilts and patchwork blankets surround us on all sides, balancing high on tree branches.
A small crowd gathers in front of the stage readying themselves for Linnea, a quiet buzz starting to build.
The boys come to a stop at the back of the crowd and I’m thrilled with how much space there is around us to move. It’s a welcome change after the hectic crowd at Queen Ego. While my body feels light and my heart impossibly full after seeing them live, my heart sinks when I remember that my first experience seeing my favourite band in the world is actually over. I imagined it countless times throughout my teens, and the feeling of it happening so quickly feels surreal and bittersweet.
I try not to look directly at Elliot. There’s a new kind of tension sitting between us that I can’t quite name since my panicked moment earlier. Maybe the hatred is cooling.
Or just marinating. (More likely).
There’s a hesitation from him now that I’m not sure how to react to – it was almost easier when he was being combative and annoying. We’re both clearly pained to be standing here… but in a new way. Good progress.
I’d never admit it but there’s a part of me that’s starting to feel accustomed to his presence, and an even weirder part that is enjoying it. There’s something comforting about his constant composure and controlled manner. He has a frosty set to his eyes and a confident stance that my eyes want to glue themselves to. Must be nice to be so self-assured. I hope I might absorb some of it via osmosis, if I stand close enough. I’ve been so used to trying to make myself physically smaller and take up as little space as possible.
For some reason, I realise I don’t feel the need to do that so much at Firecrest. It’s a bizarre and unfamiliar sensation. Not a single person has looked twice at my tiara or done a double-take at my hair or height like they do at home. It’s like everybody here does exactly what they want to unabashedly. How they dress, sing, dance, laugh – there’s an overwhelming sense of acceptance and safety in it all. The air is almost heavy with it. I suddenly understand why people fight to be here: to get to a place of safety and escape.
I take a deep breath and let my chest expand to its fullest.
There’s no need to shrink myself here. No need to adapt or make myself invisible.
As I look around at Hennie laughing with Josh and Elliot patiently watching the stage, I hear some faint cheers from the crowd in front of us as a pale, willowy woman with dark hair floats onto the stage with a guitar.
Light and tinkly synths filter through the crowd in front of us, reaching us in comforting waves. Her ethereal vocals combined with the wind moving through the leaves around us has me utterly absorbed. The sun sets behind the trees as she sings, turning the blue sky to gold and chilling the air around us.
Hennie rests her head on my shoulder, which Josh observes and hilariously tries to mimic on Elliot’s side, resulting in him bending at an awkward sideways angle to lower his head ontoElliot’s shoulder. Owen captures the moment on his camera with a smirk.
‘I think I love The Warren,’ I whisper down to Hennie. She basks in the music, her eyes fluttering closed.
‘I’m sure The Warren loves you too,’ she whispers back.
The last song finishes with a light stroke of her guitar. The crowd cheers and claps their hands above their heads as she stands to beam brilliantly at us all.
Elliot and I clap our free hands against our thighs to join in until Josh animatedly holds up his hand as if for a high-five in front of my face. I clap my hand against it repeatedly to create a louder applause and despite myself, his goofy grin makes me laugh even harder. My laugh is drowned out by the sounds of Owen and Hennie whooping and cheering together, and to my right I swear I can see a glimmer of a smile on Elliot’s face.
6
Night falls so suddenly that I don’t notice the lanterns dangling from the trees have all been lit, leaving The Warren enshrined in a warm glow.
We’re all in agreement that now is the time for food, so I look around at the various food stalls to see what’s on offer even though I’m not particularly hungry. Every part of my body wants to stay in the cocoon-like safe haven that The Warren has provided, but for Hennie’s sake I follow the others as conversation about the wonders and curiosities of Firecrest Festival ensues.
