Page 6 of Sad Girl Hours

Chapter Six

Nell

I remain in a bit of a grumpy mood, my frustration mounting over the course of the week. I’m still feeling it even as the gang meets up for a picnic at Williamson Park the following Saturday evening to celebrate surviving our first week of term.

It’s beautiful up here. We sit on the sloping grass hill overlooking the entire town – to our left is the huge white-stone monument, the sky above stained with swirls of watercolours streaking across the sky.

“You look pensive,” Vivvie says, passing me the box of veggie tarts that Jenna and I made last night. “Tart for your thoughts?”

“Thank you.” I take the box and bite into one, brushing flecks of golden pastry off my lips before I continue. “I’m just … thinking. About stuff.”

Vivvie raises a single eyebrow. “Illuminating.”

I chuckle. “I’m still stuck on my poetry collection. I can’t think of a single theme that’s good enough to win me the prize.”

“We came up with lots of themes last night that I thought were perfectly respectable, prize-winning ones, but she’s being stubborn,” Jenna adds.

“I can’t believe that.” It’s Casper’s turn to pipe up. “Not our Eleanora – surely not.”

“Listen, I came here for a good time – and a banging sunset picnic – and I’m feeling very attacked right now.”

“You’ll think of something,” Vivvie says.

“I’m still thinking up ideas for my collection this term.

We’re going to be displaying our pieces at the fundraising showcase when we get back in January.

I’m excited,” she says, though she still looks as cool, calm and collected as ever.

“I’m going to do something with either lots of gender fuckery or that highlights sustainability. Or some combo of the two.”

“See, they’re both excellent ideas already,” I whine.

Viviana nods. “That is true. Lo siento, I can’t help being this sexy and talented. It’s just a cross I have to bear.”

None of us knew Viviana before uni but she’s told us how she used to be this awkward trans kid with no confidence, who would hide herself away from everything.

It’s strange to think that the confident, put-together, fashion-model-esque person before us could ever have been that.

I’m glad she feels so secure in herself now, though. I’m proud of her.

“It’s funny how we all turned out that way, isn’t it?” Casper says sagely.

Jenna laughs. “Sure, Casp. All of us.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want a bit of this.” He flourishes a hand down the length of his body.

“Oh, desperately. What are you doing tonight?” Jenna says, causing Casper’s pale face to flush a delightful shade of fuchsia, despite her deadpan tone.

Vivvie rolls her eyes and I glance at Saffron to see if she’s also amused by this. When I do, however, I find her staring out at the city below us, a box of cookies in her lap and a bottle of raspberry lemonade clasped in her hand.

“Hey,” I say gently. “You OK?”

She doesn’t hear me so I give her a gentle nudge.

“Oh! Sorry, did you want one?” She offers me the cookies. “They’re delicious. Thank you for bringing them.” But I don’t remember seeing her eat one.

“No, I’m good,” I say. “Are you, though? You seem a bit spacey.”

“Was that another space pun.” Saffron shakes her head lightly, smiling at me like we’ve lived a lifetime of inside jokes. “You’re relentless, Nell, honestly.”

I don’t want to press the issue and make her uncomfortable, so I decide instead to play along. “I’m so sorry. You should solar eclip me round the ear.”

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Vivvie says as Saffron’s face works through all the stages of grief. “But I heard that, Nell, and I hated it more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life.”

“Speaking of solar eclipses,” Saffron says, now a vision of excitement and warmth, in stark contrast to the absent stare from only thirty seconds before, “there’s one coming up next month. We should come up here to not look at it.”

“I love going places to not look at things,” Casper says. “That’s my favourite thing.”

“Yeah, we should definitely come and ‘watch’ –” I put the word in air quotes – “the eclipse, Saffron. That’s so cool. Are there any other sick astronomological phenomena taking place soon?”

“I love how you’re not only great at arranging words that already exist, you’re also great at coming up with new ones,” Saffron says. “You’re such a talented wordsmith. A real protégée of the great bard himself.”

“Just answer the question.”

“Well, as group resident astronomologicaller –” her green eyes gleam with gentle teasing as well as the light from the setting sun – “there’s the hunter’s moon in October, and a hopefully visible meteor shower in November.”

“Nice. We should watch out for both of those too.”

“And there’s always the Northern Lights,” Casper adds nonchalantly, and I whip round to face him just in time to witness him thrusting a whole mini sausage roll into his face.

“What?”

He just looks at me, slowly chewing his sausage roll, cheeks puffing out like a bilious rodent.

“You can’t see the Northern Lights from the UK, can you?” I ask. “I thought you had to go to Norway or some other country that looks like it was inspired by the movie Frozen .”

I stare at him as he takes a disgustingly long time to clear his mouth so he can reply. “I would like to double-check that you’re aware that Nordic countries predate the movie Frozen , Nell. And most of the time, yes. But sometimes in winter you can see them in the North of England.”

“We’re in the North of England,” Saffron says thoughtfully.

“Well done, Ms Lawrence. Those geography skills are really coming along nicely,” Casper says with a genuinely proud air.

She shakes her head. “I mean, I knew you could sometimes see them in this country, but I’m from Exeter, which is way too far south. I never realised there’s a chance I could see them when I’m up here.”

“Yeah,” Casper says. “I’ve got an app on my phone that some people on my course made in collab with the physics and programming lot. It sends you alerts when they might be visible in your area.”

Saffron pulls out her phone instantly. “That’s so cool! What’s it called?”

Casper shows her where to find it while I keep sitting there, fizzing with excitement. I jiggle my legs up and down, accidentally knocking the box of tarts on to the grass.

“So people have really seen them? In this country?” I can’t keep the eagerness out of my voice.

“In the most United of Kingdoms, yes, Nell.”

I let out a noise that doesn’t not resemble a kettle reaching boiling point.

“Jesus.” Jenna winces. “All the dogs of Lancaster are now crying, Nell. There’s a pit bull over there absolutely weeping .”

“Sorry to that pit bull,” I say, “but do you guys not think that is cool? I had no idea. I’ve always wanted to see them, ever since I was a kid.

I had a picture book about polar bears. One of them catches a cold or something, and it ended with him and his polar bear husband watching the Northern Lights together.

I just think they’re so beautiful. It’s like the sky’s rebelling against the dark. ”

“Or like charged particles from the sun’s magnetic sphere are travelling one hundred and fifty million kilometres to collide with gases in our atmosphere,” Saffron says with no less wonder in her voice.

I blink. “ Sure . I’m adding this to my mental list of reasons why autumn and winter are the best seasons, objectively.”

“I don’t know about that,” Saffron says, going quieter again.

“Don’t fight Nell on this,” Jenna warns. “She’s like the autumn Lorax. She speaks for the leaves. I say this with the greatest of love, but you do tend to go a bit feral in autumn, Nell.”

“Because it’s the best ,” I say. “Crunching through leaves, cosy nights in with candles and books and endless reruns of Gilmore Girls , hot chocolate…”

“Put that on a poster in a janky handwritten-looking font and you’ll make absolute bank from your fellow White women. You can sell them in Ugg boot and flannel scarf shops,” Jenna says, causing Viviana to let out a laugh that sounds like a hoot from a thoroughly amused owl.

“You know, fair ,” I say. “But it’s more than just the cheesy aesthetic stuff. I feel cosy and safe in autumn. I get to do all my favourite things, and it feels like everyone’s coming together, everyone’s building up to something together, even if we don’t know exactly what that something is.”

Saffron sinks a little beside me.

“You still don’t agree?” I ask.

“It’s not that I don’t agree – I love all those things for you ,” she says. “I just don’t personally get the appeal of living in the dark for months at a time.”

“Maybe you’ve just not been around enough people like me who, as Jenna said, go feral for autumn and all things festive,” I say. “I’ll show you how fun they can be.”

“I don’t think you could change my mind, Nell. No offence,” Saffron adds. “They’re just not for me.”

“ Think doesn’t sound like an absolute. And I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.”

Saffron’s pupils flare. “I really don’t—”

“Wait.” I pause. That lightning thing, that zap, has just happened, my brain flashing shocking white. “No, this could really work.”

I shuffle around so that I’m fully facing Saffron. “I’ve just had the most perfect idea. One that’ll benefit both of us.”

Her mouth curves up but her eyes betray more hesitation. “Go on.”

“I love autumn and winter. You don’t. I need something to write poems about.

You always want more cool things to post on your TikTok so that you can trick people into following you and then bamboozle them with sneakily educational space videos.

And you also need to learn how to make the most of the seasons for your own sake. ”

She looks nervous, twisting a flaxen curl round one finger, her pastel-pink painted nail flashing with each twirl. “Go on.”

“So, I propose we make an epic seasonal bucket list, full of my favourite things to do at this time of year. I’ll show you all there is to love and you’ll make your videos.

I’ll write poems about everything we do, with some poignant twist about the transience of the world, yadda yadda, and bing bang bosh: we’ve both got ourselves hits and we’ve had the absolute best time of our goddamn lives.

Ta-da!” I finish off with some jazz hands and an expectant grin.

“I…” Saffron starts. “I don’t know…”

“Come on,” I say proudly. “You have to admit this is an excellent idea.”