‘At least it’s only one hand this time,’ Devon retorts from his sitting position by my legs. Our mums are out in the corridor, having been unable to keep their anger in. They were full-on shouting at each other, until the nurse encouraged them not to do so in front of us kids.
‘Well, it’s all right for you – at least I can still hold a camera with one hand. We can still practise auditions and keep adding to your acting reel, but I might need you to sketch for me. I’ve got this really awesome idea for a superhero dinosaur that finds itself in the present day. I don’t want to forget any visuals so I will have to make do with your terrible drawing skills,’ I say with a laugh and a roll of my eyes. I’m only teasing but whereas acting is Devon’s thing, I hate being in front of a crowd. Mine is art, so Devon knows I’m only playing. However, I notice that his shoulders are tense and he’s not joining in with my laughter. Devon hit a growth spurt in year ten and his shoulders grew so broad they’re hard to miss.
‘You’re acting funny. What’s up?’ I ask, wriggling a little in the hospital bed, suddenly feeling irritated, though I’m not sure why. There’s just something off about Devon not looking at me, averting his eyes to the floor. He doesn’t speak. ‘D, since when do we keep secrets? Something’s up. What is it? Don’t worry about my mum, you know what she’s like. They can’t stop us hanging out. They couldn’t when we were five and they’ve got no chance now. You’re stuck with me, big guy,’ I say, laughing again and sitting up so I can punch him in the bicep with my good hand.
But Devon still doesn’t say anything. Instead he gets up off the bed and stands by my tray of hospital food – complete distraction technique.
‘If you think I’m eating that again, you’ve got another thing coming,’ I say, chuckling to lighten the mood, though I can feel my palms begin to sweat, which isn’t pleasant for my right hand as it’s already hot in my cast.
‘Scar,’ Devon starts and I notice there are tears in his eyes. A lump forms in my throat and I swing my legs over the bed faster than the speed of Mercury so I’m facing him.
‘Scar, I’m leaving,’ Devon whispers as the tears roll down his cheeks.
‘What? Now? Sorry, D, I didn’t mean to keep you. They’re probably going to discharge me soon anyway. I won’t be here much longer,’ I ramble, feeling very strange at how our roles have reversed – Devon normally being the quick talker.
‘No, I’m leaving like for good,’ he mumbles, making me lean in closer to him to hear.
‘I don’t understand,’ I say, feeling utterly confused. ‘Leaving where? What?’ My eyes scrunch up; my vision is going blurry. I’m not a crier but watching the tears tumble from Devon’s eyes is killing me. I hate seeing him sad. It’s always been my job as his best friend to make them go away.
‘We’re moving to New York. Mum and Dad enrolled me in a theatre school there. We’re leaving Springhollow,’ Devon tells me. His words are coming out fast now, like he’s ripping off a plaster.
This is all too much for me to take in. I try to push myself up off the bed; I want to do something, to smack Devon in the arm playfully for pranking me with this ridiculous joke – or maybe to run, run somewhere far away to break this nightmare, but I gasp as the pain shoots up my arm, having momentarily forgotten to not put pressure on my very recently damaged appendage. Devon steps closer to me, his thighs grazing my knees. ‘It’s the middle of term – you can’t leave now,’ I say, my voice coming out high-pitched.
‘I’m sorry,’ he mutters. ‘I tried to argue my case. I don’t want to leave but they gave me no choice. Dad got a great job there and they said if I’m serious about acting they’ll support me, and I shouldn’t be ungrateful for this opportunity. The high schools there are amazing for the arts,’ he adds, wiping a stray tear from my cheek that falls without my consent. ‘Don’t cry, Scar, we’ll keep in touch. Just think of it like we’re going to different colleges or something. People go away to college all the time, and I’ll be back.’
His hands are on my shoulders now and I feel my skin heat. Devon and I are no strangers to wrestling around but something in me shifts. My heart is pounding, and I feel as if it’s being ripped from my chest. He’s always been the closest thing to me in every way, joined at the hip most would say. I feel cold at the thought of him not being right by my side. ‘How can you say that? You can’t leave me to face school alone.’ My stomach is starting to twist uncomfortably; just the thought of going to school without Devon makes me want to be sick.
‘When do you leave?’ I find myself asking in a daze. Devon drops his hands and shuffles a little on his feet. A few seconds pass before he speaks.
‘Tomorrow morning,’ he replies, barely audible.
I leap off the bed as the words register in my brain and I wince at the pain that shoots through my right arm but I don’t care in the slightest about my injury anymore. The coldness in my bones has turned to fire. My cheeks burn and anger boils in my blood.
‘How long have you known?’ I shout, pushing him with my good arm. This is not something you spring on your best friend.
The tears are streaming down Devon’s cheeks fast and hard now, but I don’t care. I don’t care about anything.
‘I’m sorry, Scar, I didn’t know how to tell you. I don’t want to go, but they won’t listen to me.’ He pleads and I just glare at him, my breathing now heavy. My tears have dried up, any remaining wetness on my face has been harshly rubbed away with the back of my hand.
‘A month, they surprised me about a month ago.’ He mumbles.
‘You’ve known for a month? Get out,’ I yell with all my might. ‘Get out.’ I don’t have any control over it. The words just fly out of my mouth. I can’t even look at Devon. Just then the door swings open and both our mums race in.
‘What’s going on?’ I hear my mum ask, but I don’t turn around, I keep my gaze on the window.
‘Scar, please,’ I hear Devon say from somewhere behind me, but again I don’t look back.
‘Just go,’ I mutter, finding that breaking my arm and fracturing my hand was a lot less painful than the agony in my heart right now.
1
December Present Day
I step in from the cold, pulling my hoodie over my head, and shake off the chill. Though the weather is wonderfully wintry outside, my brow is sweaty, my body hot from my walk around the village trail. ‘Christmas is in the air, Eddie,’ I say to my goldfish as I make my way into my cosy living room after a quick pit stop in my kitchen to fill up my watering can and a tall glass of water for myself. I balance my sketchbook and my glass in one hand before carefully placing them both down on my coffee table and turning on my Christmas tree lights. I stand back for a moment, just staring at how they sparkle, and take a deep breath to calm my breathing. The fresh air has done me some good, but the walk certainly quickened my heart rate. It was one way to get my adrenaline pumping these days.
I water my potted cacti, which are strategically placed either side of my pink accent wall to give the room a beautiful pop of colour and natural vibe, before I take a seat on my couch to see that I get enough water myself. I nudge my sketchbook as I place down the glass and see Eddie looking at me through his little glass tank. ‘I got nothing but trees, Ed. I tell a lie; I did draw a bird today too,’ I tell my curious goldfish. He gives me a disapproving pout before swimming away. ‘Well, that’s not very nice.’ I let out a small sigh at how well he knows me. ‘It’s just a teeny bit of a rut, Ed, that’s all,’ I say trying to justify myself. ‘We’ll be out of it soon,’ I add quietly, more to myself than to my tiny golden friend.