Page 2 of Sad Girl Hours

Chapter Two

Nell

I emerge out of the doors and breathe in the refreshing chill of the North of England December air, trying to ignore the way my ribcage feels like it’s contracting painfully against the cold.

My gaze fixes on the figure standing out in the empty quad, in the cool glow of the floodlights.

I’m about to walk up to her and make some inane remark about the temperature (I’m freezing my tits off out here without a coat, and I presume she’s similarly suffering), but her head turns slightly and makes me pause.

She’s looking up at the night sky— No, she’s looking up into the night sky, like she’s waiting for an answer to a silently asked question.

Gone is the easy smile on her face, replaced instead by the expression of someone worn out by something – or maybe many things.

I feel as though I’m intruding, like I’ve caught her in an intimate moment.

I briefly wonder whether I should retreat back inside, as she continues staring up at the stars with glassy eyes.

A particularly loud cheer from the party makes me discount that thought, however.

Midnight is within touching distance, and I can’t leave her alone to start the New Year (even this pretend one) feeling whatever it is that’s making her look like she’s sinking downwards.

I’m certainly well acquainted myself with feeling so low that the sky feels even further away than usual.

I march purposefully up to her, pretending that I’ve only just come out of the building.

“Oh, Saffron, hey,” I say, aiming for ‘oh so casual and cool’. Masking I can do (at severe cost to my mental health), but I’m no actress.

Saffron doesn’t notice, though. She’s much too busy acting herself – a transformed vision of bright eyes and mouth perfectly upturned like she’s delighted to see me.

“Nell!” she says brightly. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” I say, taking care to ensure that my tone is curious and not accusatory.

“Oh, you know.” She shrugs easily. “I just fancied some fresh air and a bit of sky time.” She nods up at the black above as if ‘sky time’ is a trademarked activity.

“I get that,” I say, because I sort of do. “Sometimes a bit of space is nice.”

“Exactly what I’m always saying. Although,” she adds in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m usually trying to convince people that astrophysics is cool and not in fact a deeply nerdy thing to devote your precious time and brain space to.”

“Why can’t it be both?” I say, cocking an eyebrow.

“You know, that’s an excellent point.” Saffron laughs. “No one’s ever suggested that before. Thank you, Nell.”

How does she make everyone feel so goddamn special all the time? She’s like some kind of shapeshifting fae, but instead of causing chaos, she just boosts people’s self-esteem before bouncing back to the woods.

A thought pops up in the forefront of my brain: Does anyone make her feel special too?

“So, what’s the deal then,” I start – I want to hear her talk about herself – “with you and space? I’ve seen your TikToks. You’re clearly bonkers for the cosmos.”

“ Bonkers for the cosmos ,” she repeats, laughing a little. “Also, I can’t believe you’ve seen my TikToks. That’s embarrassing.”

She pulls a face like she doesn’t a) willingly put these videos online for people to see, and b) that she doesn’t know she comes across as perfectly articulate and passionate.

Not to mention that she looks incredible in every single one, even adding little notes about where her clothes are from – all secondhand, thrifted or home-made, of course, because, as well as being intelligent and beautiful, she also cares about the freaking planet.

“Come on,” I say aloud. “They’re all amazing – it’s not embarrassing. And you put them out there. I just innocently stumbled across them … when Jenna showed me your page.”

“Of course she did.” Saffron shakes her head. “And I know I do, and I do want people to see my stuff and learn cool things about what’s out there.” She nods her head skywards again and I feel small – tiny even – in a really cool way. “I want to be seen but I don’t want to be perceived .”

My laugh is visible, condensing in a cloud in the cold air. “Valid. And weirdly poetic.”

“Ah, yes,” she says with a teasing lilt. “I almost forgot we have a poet in our midst. Jenna’s been telling me all about her amazing poet friend.”

“Oh, Roger? Yeah, his sonnets are out of this world.” I glance at her sideways, half a smile working up my face. “Little space pun for you.”

Her golden waves bob around gracefully as she shakes her head at me. “Thank you. And no, not this mysterious Roger fellow, though I’m sure he’s also excellent. You . She’s told me all about you and how you’re going to take over the world one haiku at a time. She’s been in proper wingwoman mode.”

My trusty right eyebrow quirks up.

“Oh,” she says quickly, realising the implication. “For us to be friends, I mean. Not like that.”

It’s the first time she’s made me feel not so special.

But she seems to realise this as I do. “Not that I wouldn’t date you.”

I keep looking at her, slightly bemused, slightly obsessed with her.

“I mean, I wouldn’t,” she rambles, “but not because of you. You seem great. I just don’t date. Anyone. Not any more. Not even beautiful poets.”

“Right,” I say. “I didn’t ask, but good to know.”

My smile has an impish edge to it to reassure her that I’m not offended, even though I’m now maddeningly curious as to why she doesn’t date any more and also how she can have the audacity to tell me I’m beautiful as she’s rejecting me.

Although is it a rejection if I literally didn’t ask?

I don’t even know if I would date her. I don’t know her. I’d like to, but I don’t.

That reminds me…

“You never answered my question, by the way.”

The vague hint of tension gathered around her eyes (green, I notice) fades at the change of subject. “What question? Oh,” she says as she remembers. “What makes me bonkers for the cosmos ?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I don’t know,” she says breezily. “What makes you bonkers for poetry?”

I fold my arms across my chest. Partly to make a point, partly because it’s so cold . “You first.”

“I don’t know…” Her voice trails off as she looks up, up, up . “I guess I just… I like—”

I never find out what it is she likes, however, as a riotous boom of noise emits from inside the building and the countdown begins.

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT…”

I shrug at Saffron. “The pretend New Year looms. What’d you reckon? Want to do this all again for another year?”

Something flickers in those eyes, and even though she says, “I don’t see why not. I reckon we ought to give it a go anyway –” even as she puts on a smile that could put an end to the Mona Lisa debate (no, she’s not smiling: this is a smile) – I know some part of her is lying.

“FOUR, THREE, TWO…”

Under the watchful silver eye of the moon, the clock strikes midnight (“ONE!”), and although it won’t be real for another couple of weeks, I do still feel suspended in the future, just for a second.

Bejewelled sparks scatter into the air above the building and cheers erupt within, along with a chorus of, “Happy New Year!”

“It never feels real, does it?” I say. “You know, even when it actually is . Nothing really changes and yet somehow it always feels as though we’re entering a brand-new age, a new epoch dawning.”

“No,” Saffron says. “It doesn’t.” She takes a step closer to me, rubbing her arms. She’s still smiling, despite the looming threat of pneumonia. “Happy sort of New Year, Nell. It’s been lovely entering this epoch with you.”

“Happy – sort of – New Year. It’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance and traverse space and time with you,” I say.

“My favourite activity.” Saffron continues to glimmer.

There’s quiet between us for a moment. Both space and time feel as if they’re pressing around us along with the velvet black of night. It has been lovely being wrapped up in all of this with her. And so…

“Let’s do this again sometime,” I say.

Saffron’s head tilts to the side. “What, traverse space and time?”

“Well, preferably, yes. But no, I meant hang out. You know, with Jenna – and Casper and Vivvie too, if they like.”

“Sure. That’d be nice.” She looks at me, her expression reflecting her words, and I find myself staring back, letting the sentiment of more of whatever this has been echo out between us.

The quiet and the anticipation of all this newness (and the way she keeps looking at me like she finds me as fascinating as I do her) crackle around us and I wonder.

That’s the end of the sentence. I just wonder.

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?”

The quiet is brought to an abrupt end by the arrival of Jenna in the quad. She jogs over, Casper and Vivvie not far behind, and thrusts an arm over my shoulder.

I shrug. “Here.”

Jenna casts a discerning eye between the two of us, before offering me a laden half nod that I know means, I don’t think anything massively exciting/scandalous has occurred but I’m going to require more information imminently anyway .

“It’s gone midnight, by the way,” she says, grabbing my face and planting a firm kiss on my forehead. “Happy Not-New Year.”

“Oh, is that what all the shouting was about?” Saffron says with a soft smile.

“Yeah, we just thought someone had been murdered,” I add. “But that would explain it.”

Jenna raises an eyebrow. “And the fireworks?”

Saffron doesn’t pause. “The victim wasn’t well liked.”

Casper and Vivvie reach us as I let out a snort to rival Babe himself, and Saffron turns her energy up another notch to greet them. “Hey, guys! Sorry I missed the countdown!”

“What’ve you been up to?” Vivvie says, giving Saffron the same look Jenna gave me.

“Just the usual,” I volunteer. “Looking at the stars, entering epochs, misattributing cheers to the aftermath of a grisly, violent crime.”

Saffron lets out a laugh, and Vivvie looks between us before settling her gaze on me. “You’re a bit weird, aren’t you?” she says, zero malice in her words or tone. “I love that for you.”

“Oh, she’s absolutely crackers, yes,” Jenna says proudly, giving my shoulder a brief squeeze.

“All the best people are,” Casper says.

“Well,” Saffron announces, snaking an arm round Casper’s waist and hugging him to her side, “should we head home now?”

I look to Jenna. “Yes, we’ve boogied, we’ve seen the New Year in, we’ve successfully marked the pretend constructed shift in our constructed calendar.”

“All right, misery guts.” Jenna tosses smiles to Casper and Vivvie and hugs Saffron goodbye. Saffron stands on her tiptoes to squeeze her even tighter. “You can’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it, though. I saw you having the time of your life. I have eyes.”

“Many congratulations,” I say, “although there’s no need to rub it in for those poor sea urchins.”

Jenna’s nose wrinkles. “What?”

“They don’t have eyes,” Casper supplies helpfully.

“Thank you.” I like this boy already.

Casper gives me a dutiful nod and we say our goodbyes, scattered with promises to meet up again when we get back after the holidays, before heading off to our different halls of residence.

Jenna loops her arm through mine as we walk and rambles on about how fun the evening was, how cute Casper is (interesting…), how cool Vivvie seems and how amazing Saffron is. “Right?”

I make all the appropriate noises, glancing at their three retreating backs. Saffron’s in the middle, clearly talking animatedly, her body cloaked in constellations, the moonlight reflecting off every last one of her gold sequins.

The lines between what’s real and what’s pretend blur in my head, and I catch myself wishing that the New Year brings everyone exactly what they need.