Page 61 of Spearcrest Knight

“What are you saving up for, then?” Freddy asks, leaning against the counter with his own drink.

“I’m applying to universities abroad, so I'm saving for that.”

“Oh really?” Jess says. “I thought you’d be going Oxbridge.”

I laugh. “I’m applying, of course, but that’s mostly because my parents expect me to.”

“You don’t want to go?” Freddy asks with a look of surprise. “I thought it’d be right up your street.”

“Not really. After five years of Spearcrest, I’m ready to move on, and Oxbridge wouldn’t feel like moving on.”

“Where are you applying?” Jess asks. “If you don’t mind telling us, of course.”

“Well, I’m applying to most of the Ivy Leagues, but the one I want is Harvard.”

“Fuck me, Sophie!” Jess exclaims. “You’re not fucking around!”

“I admire your ambition,” Freddy says warmly, staring into my eyes. “You’re driven and unafraid of working hard for what you want. I think Harvard would be lucky to have you.”

Heat floods my cheeks, but luckily I’m saved from saying something embarrassing and awkward by the arrival of some customers. After that, it’s the final rush of the day, mostly orders to go, and then it’s finally time to close up.

“You go home, Sophie, we’ll close up,” Freddy says. “Thanks for today.”

“Yeah, go home and get lots of rest. You need to be full of energy for tomorrow!” Jess says giddily, bouncing around the shop watering the plants.

“What’s tomorrow?” I ask, glancing between Freddy and Jess as I remove my apron.

“Only the best day of the year,” Jess says with a little spin. “A magical day!”

Freddy laughs and hands me my coat and bag, which he fetches from the office.

“Tomorrow is when we put up the Christmas decorations,” he tells me with a broad smile. “Our parents used to do it every year, so it’s a bit of a tradition here at the Little Garden.”

“I can’t wait, then,” I say, putting on my coat and shrugging on my backpack. “I’ll make sure I’ve had plenty of sleep and a big breakfast, Jess.”

“You better!”

On the walk home, I can’t help but think of Freddy and Jess and their Christmas decorations.

The Little Garden sometimes feels like a dream world, a bubble away from the reality of my life. My parents don’t celebrate Christmas in a big way, but we always have a tree and some presents at Christmas.

Are they sad I’m not going to spend Christmas with them? When I told them about staying at Audrey’s for Christmas, they seemed happy, not sad at all. Mum gushed at the “opportunities” a friendship with Audrey’s family could present me in the future, and Dad told me to make sure I was on my best behaviour around them.

It’s not like I have anything to complain about. My parents have worked hard their whole lives and worked alongside people with more wealth and success than they’ll ever be able to aspire to. Now, they want nothing but the best for me, and they are aware of how difficult the best can be to get when you don’t start off with an advantage.

To them, Spearcrest is that advantage for me, and everything I do should be in service of my future, my success. There’s nothing wrong with that. I am the way I am thanks to them, and I have to remind myself to be grateful for that.

When I finally reach Evan’s house, I pause outside the gates. The house is enormous, towering over the pine trees around it, outlined by the faint starlight. Even amongst the massive houses on the street, this house is isolated, separated from the road by a long path and all those evergreens. I can see rectangles of light here and there, but the rest of the windows are dark. Such a big, empty house.

For the first time, I wonder how Evan feels about spending Christmas alone in this big house.

Asking him is out of the question, but when I enter the house, the first thing that strikes me is the silence. I check the kitchen, which he’s tried to tidy up with surprising success. The living room is ablaze with lights but as empty and pristine as usual.

I head upstairs to the guestroom to put my things down when I finally spot Evan.

His bedroom door is wide open, revealing a sprawling room, surprisingly tidy. An enormous TV is set on a low unit of dark wood, and Evan is sprawled in front of it on a pile of cushions. A game controller rests on his stomach, and the TV is flashing brightly coloured cartoons at the room, but he’s asleep. His mouth is slightly open, his chest is rising and falling slowly. At his side, there's an empty plate with the corners of a sandwich left untouched, a glass half full of milk.

It’s hard to believe this is the same guy who’s been making my life a nightmare since Year 9, the guy who hoisted me against a tree and kissed me like he was starving and I was the last fruit on earth.

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