‘What’s in it?’
‘Dunno,’ I hear Josh say, just as Owen replies, ‘It’s vodka, blue curacao and tropical fruit juice.’
I smile. ‘Why not?’
Hennie’s voice pipes up behind me. ‘This festival is too fucking big!’ she huffs, throwing her bag onto the bar. ‘I immediately realised I didn’t have the faintest fucking idea where Rolo’s was. I probably ran past twice without realising. What are we drinking?’
I embrace her with relief as the boys order more drinks.
‘Did they follow you for long? I saw they went after you,’ she says, smoothing her hair.
‘Well, they successfully followed us all the way through Maggie’s Field,’ I reply with irritation. ‘Pretty much had no choice but to hide until they lost our scent and left.’
Owen hands me a drink and I thank him profusely.
‘Where did you hide?’ he asks, his brow furrowed in confusion.
‘Just behind a food stall,’ Elliot says easily, as if no more discussion is necessary.
‘You were gone a while. I was concerned that you might have fallen in a hole,’ I say more quietly to Hennie.
‘No hole could contain me.’ She slaps my shoulder before receiving her glass from Josh. We gather around an empty table with our drinks, and I clink my glass against Hennie’s with a grin.
‘Let me get in there,’ Josh chimes, joining in.
All of our drinks knock together with a loudthud, some of the green liquid spilling onto our table.
Josh nods at the band on the stage closest to us with a modest crowd. ‘Is that really the lead singer? He looks like he’s about nine.’
‘He’s still got more facial hair than you, Ham,’ Elliot remarks.
Josh says nothing, just pokes two of his fingers into his drink to flick a couple of drops of green fluid in Elliot’s direction, eliciting a shout of annoyance from him.
I bite back a laugh when Elliot tugs Josh’s bandana down his face in retaliation with a smug smile, apparently knowing how to hit Josh where it hurts: Josh emits a high, panicked shriek in response and instantly tries to restore his bandana to its former glory, describing Elliot as a ‘cretin’ and a ‘rat’ as he does so. Owen just hides a laugh behind his fist and quietly sneaks a photo of the exchange; Hennie asks to see the shots and they lean close together to look at what he’s taken, bending over with fresh laughter when they zoom in painfully close to Josh’s devastated expression. Josh doesn’t even notice, still frantically putting his bandana back in the correct position.
I feel something in me shift as I watch them all with fierce fondness. It’s like Hennie and I have slotted seamlessly into place, like we all somehow fit together. I’m surprised by howcomfortable I feel in their company, despite the fact I’ve only known them a day. It’s not an experience I’m used to.
‘What’s the game plan for the next clue, then?’ Elliot asks, his eyes on me.
‘Well, we’re definitely in need of some altitude, if the clue really is somewhere up high,’ Hen says.
‘Some of us more than others,’ Owen says with a smirk, earning an elbow in the side from her.
‘She’s right, there’s nowhere in the Jungle that gets us a good view unless we climb a fucking tree, so we’ll have to improvise,’ Elliot says.
‘Good thing you have me, babydoll,’ Josh says proudly, taking a loud slurp of his drink. ‘Gimme five minutes and I’ll fetch that clue of yours.’
Josh’s optimism is very endearing. I’ll admit, his presence and unshakeable enthusiasm has made everything feel a little lighter this weekend. Easier.
After more chatter and drinking our questionable cocktails, Owen claps his hands together in readiness.
‘Alright, no time to lose. Let’s get going.’
We collectively agree to meet at Rolo’s in an hour if we find nothing. Owen and Hennie agree to team up in case they’re unable to access something out of reach, while Josh searches on his own (and is a little disgruntled as a result). They all head in the direction of the Friction stage, another outdoor venue for electronic music, which is alarmingly busy. There seems to be an unspoken agreement that the others will tackle the busier areas, and it makes me want to weep with gratitude.
Elliot and I begin by searching around Rolo’s itself, trying to locate any high points that could potentially house anything that might resemble a clue.
For the first ten minutes we’re joined by the drumstick as usual, but eventually come to a stop with a frustrated sigh fromElliot. The stick is deposited in my backpack while we search: another truce for now, secured by another handshake.
