Page 118 of Playing to Win

Since his phone was the biggest, Robert laid it in front of them. He dragged the Twitter feed downward to refresh it.

STV News: CLACKMANNANSHIRE VOTES NO. 54% no, 46% yes.

Colin’s eyes scanned the tweet again and again as he tried to process these unthinkable numbers. “It wasnae even close?” Horror crawled through his brain as the truth sank in. “We were supposed towinthere.”

Katie gripped their hands. “Guys? I think this is gonna get ugly.”

How could we have been so wrong?Colin checked his own Twitter feed, searching for hope. But all the Yes supporters there—people he’d never met but whom he’d come to love like brothers and sisters—voiced nothing but despair.

It was over. It was over much, much earlier, and more decisively, than anyone could have imagined.

Yet here at George Square, everyone was still happy. Oblivious. Over by the Counting House pub, revelers were jumping up and down atop a bus, chanting “We want independence!”

All Colin wanted was to scream. “No,” he growled. “No no no no no no no no no NO!”

“Mate.” Robert crouched in front of him, taking Colin’s quaking hands in his own huge ones. “Keep the head, all right? You’ll not solve anything by raging.”

Colin tried to jerk away, but his friend was far too strong.

“Hey, before you guys yank each other’s arms out of their sockets?” Katie reached inside her jacket and pulled out a silver flask. “Fergus is gonna kill me, but I’ve never needed a drink so much in my life.” She took a sip, then offered it to Colin. “Don’t bogart it, dude.”

Colin took a swig. The whisky was smooth and fiery and exactly what he needed to survive this night.

They sat and drank and kept an eye on Twitter. No other voting results were expected for a while, but turnout figures by council area started to appear.

The numbers were staggering.

“Angus, eighty-five percent.” Robert scrolled through his phone. “Stirling, ninety percent. East Renfrewshire ninety as well.”

“High voter turnout’s good, right?” Katie asked.

“Naw, it’s not good!” Colin shouted, now lying on his back and staring at the sky, whose blackness mirrored his heart and his future. “Those are all No areas, so that just means arseloads of people were dying for the chance to stay on their knees. Wa-heyy!” He waved the flask above his head, then sat up to take another sip. As he did, he noticed the mood in George Square had subdued a bit, and the crowd had thinned. Apparently the Clackmannanshire news had finally spread.

Good. Another minute and he would’ve started telling them where they could ram their stupid hope and happiness. Ignorant, naive eejits just like himself.

“But compared to Glasgow, those areas are small.” Robert turned back to his phone. “If Glasgow turns out big and it votes Yes—” His face froze.

“What?” Colin leaned forward. “Mate? What is it?”

Robert dropped the phone onto the grass in front of him and sank his head into his hands. His shoulders started to shake.

Katie picked up Robert’s phone and looked at the screen. She closed her eyes and turned it to show Colin.

Glasgow turnout was only seventy-five percent.

“What?” Colin whispered, feeling the bottom drop out of his lungs. “This is impossible.” He lurched to his feet and began to pace. “Glasgow’s come alive. I’ve seen it. No one’s been shat upon like this city. But one out of four of us couldn’t be arsed to vote?” He paced faster, wishing for something to kick—a football, a bottle, a baby, anything. “What the fuck is wrong with us? Why can’t we do anything right?”

“You did the Commonwealth Games right,” Katie said. “The whole world said so.” She took a long sip from her flask, which she then tapped against Robert’s shoulder. He didn’t move.

“You don’t understand,” Colin said. “Our whole lives, we’re telt we’re less than everyone else. Scotland’s less than England, and Glasgow’s the worst of Scotland.” He pressed his fists to his temples. “And maybe we are. We were never too wee. We were never too poor. But clearly we were too fucking stupid!” He roared the last word, hearing it echo off the City Chambers building before them.

“Orkney voted No,” Katie said, setting down her phone. “But there’s only, like, four people there, so…” She looked at Robert’s silent, folded-up figure, then back to Colin. “I know I can never really understand what it’s like to be Scottish, but I know what it’s like to have your hopes crushed. It hurts so bad, you feel like it would’ve been better not to hope in the first place.”

“It’s true.” Colin kept pacing, feeling he’d explode if he stopped. “Independence meant a chance for skint lads like me and Robert to make something of ourselves. Now that chance is gone.”

“You’ll be okay,” she said softly. “We’ll all be okay.”

“Aye, right.” Colin grabbed the flask from her and took a long gulp, then another.Nothing will be okay again. Anywhere. Ever. This would’ve been the beginning of a new world, one that listened to the people.He’d never felt so powerless, or so foolish. For a few weeks he’d shed his comforting Scottish pessimism. But hope had brought him nothing but heartbreak.

---