Page 93 of We Used To Be Magic

‘Well, I did,’ I say finally. ‘I like spending time with you. Is that allowed?’

‘It’s fine,’ she says, pausing to take another sip of her drink. ‘You just like it less than you used to, clearly.’

I don’t know what to say to that, which means that we’re both silent for a moment. Then:

‘Do you think I have an anger problem?’ I ask. Edie stares at me for a moment, then glances down at my hand – the ol’ fridge-punching one. I’ve long since lost Mac’s bandage, and it’s pretty gnarly looking.

‘That’s a hell of a tangent.’

‘Do you?’ I press. Edie’s known me longer than most, so I figure that if she says no then I won’t have to think about it any more.

‘No,’ she says. ‘I mean – I don’t think you’re an angry person. You losing your temper – I think that’s more to do with you keeping everything bottled up all the time.’

‘It’s not like it’s an actual issue, though,’ I say, slightly alarmed by her clarification. ‘Like – you know I’d never hurt anyone.’

‘You hurt Hugo.’

‘Oh, comeon. Don’t pretend he didn’t deserve it.’

‘He was your friend.’

‘Youwere my friend. He was just some guy I shared a room with.’

‘You knew what he was like. That he had a stupid sense of humour.’

‘Would you have rather I’d laughed along with everyone else?’ I retort, only to regret it when Edie winces and looks down at her drink. I remember more of that night than I’d like to. Maybe because it was a good time up until the moment it wasn’t

The leavers’ ball was our school’s answer to a prom, and notorious for spiralling into carnage. The whole boarding school set-up meant that most of us had spent too much time in this weird, liminal space between lessons ending and ultimate freedom, so there was a lot of pent-up energy. Plus, basically all of the students were eye-wateringly rich and unacquainted with the word ‘no’, so despite months of stern warnings, alcohol was a major presence. Just about everyone there was drunk, shrieking and swaying and laughing a little too loudly while the teachers pretended not to notice.

Suits and gowns had been arriving in the post for weeks prior, but Edie and I decided to raid the drama department’s costume cupboard instead. I wore a threadbare velvet suit and a paisley tie. Edie wore a beaded chiffon slip and ribboned ballet slippers, her hair in soft waves – the overall effect was somewhere between Zelda Fitzgerald and a fairy, and I spent most of the night watching her. So did Hugo.

‘This is fun,’ he’d said eventually, plucking at one of its straps. Hugo was like that – so casually tactile he’d make you feel like the weird one if you called him out on it. He was tall and broad with reddish hair, stupidly rich but weirdly stingy – he’d lose his shit if I did anything as mundane as borrowing his shampoo. We’d been rooming together for a year. Edie sometimes referred to him as ‘Bunny’ behind his back, an allusion to a book I hadn’t got around to reading.

‘Thanks,’ she said, offering a thin-lipped smile. A group of us had congregated outside of the main hall, our makeshift ballroom. It was a warm night, almost balmy, and I was leaningagainst the brick exterior. Jangling guitar music drifted through the open doors.

‘Is it your sister’s?’ Hugo pressed, and Edie’s brow puckered in confusion.

‘No. Why would you say that?’ she asked.

‘It’s got quite a sexy, homewrecker kind of energy, is all. I like it.’

‘Wow, thanks,’ Edie muttered, glancing away. Hugo grinned, apparently undeterred by both the obvious dismissal and the fact that I was staring absolute daggers at him.

‘What’s she up to these days?’ he continued. ‘Besides shagging other people’s husbands, I mean.’

Cue the asinine laughter.Enough, I decided, dropping a cigarette and rounding on him, ready to retort with something suitably cutting abouthisfamily – between the embezzlement charges and the libel lawsuits, it was a rich tapestry. But Edie silenced me by slipping her hand into mine, warm and soft.

‘I love this song,’ she said. ‘Let’s go back inside.’

I didn’t move. Hugo’s perma-smile was infuriating, and I was desperate to wipe it off his smug, entitled face.

‘Ezra,’ Edie said, a pleading note entering her voice. I looked at her then, and realised that she was genuinely upset.

‘Okay,’ I said, squeezing her hand. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Sneaking off to consummate your love?’ Hugo laughed.

‘You’re an ugly fucking drunk,’ I spat, temper flaring as I turned back towards him. ‘You can apologise when you’re sober.’

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