July 1st. It had been the first Saturday that the three of us were free. Celeste had finished college for good, I had finished school for good and Caine had finished year nine, leaving him to enjoy his last summer before starting his GCSE work. Isaac Lane called for a party.
“That’s a terrible idea.” Celeste had protested. But he’d persuaded her. “Fine.” She’d given in eventually. “But just me and Skylar. Caine’s not coming.” She’d administered, to which Caine and Isaac had both rolled their eyes in unison – Caine opening his mouth to fire a peeved retort before Isaac had waved a hand in front of his face to cut him off.
“Celeste. Baby.” He titled his head to the side a little, opening up his arms and a giving her a sly smile. “I want to throw a party to celebrate your freedom. For all three of you. I can’t throw a party for Caine if he’s not there, can I?”
“He’s not coming.”
“He is.”
“I am!” Caine cut in. Celeste regarded him for a while – long enough that he began to smile in confidence that she would give in.
“Okay.” She breathed. “Okay. But we’re keeping a close eye on you.” She pointed a finger at him before lifting her gaze to Isaac. “He’s fourteen, for goodness sake; he’s never been to a party like this before.”
Caine and I had shared a look at that. Purely because of the kind of company each of them kept, it was likely that Caine had attended far rougher parties than Celeste. He pulled a face meant for my eyes only whilst Isaac leant in to kiss Celeste. She turned her face away and denied him.
“We’ll do it at Conner’s house. You’ll invite your friends, yeah?” Isaac nodded to Caine and me. Conner was a good friend of his, and lived in one of the largest houses in town. He was notorious for throwing wicked parties.
I remember getting the feeling then that he had already pre-planned this arrangement.
“Nah, it’s cool. Just invite whoever.” I brushed off his suggestion.
“Come on, Cabbage Patch.” He sighed, as if I’d said the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.
I just pulled a face at him and made an exit, dropping my phone on the sofa and announcing that I had to pee.
The party started at nine and by the time we’d turned up the place was already alive with people. I don’t remember much of the night. I guess it’s not important. I remember, almost immediately after walking through the door, having a coke and vodka handed to me in a plastic cup that somehow was never empty for the rest of the night. I remember North Johnson, a boy with whom I’d shared a few classes at school, approaching me to congratulate me on my A in drama. I’d asked him why he was there, explaining that I didn’t know he knew Conner personally (everyone knew Conner through word of mouth), and he told me that he didn’t, he’d come because he’d seen my Facebook status. I remember I’d only been confused for a second before it clicked that I’d left my unlocked phone in Isaac’s presence whilst I’d gone to the toilet earlier. He’d obviously made a party invite on my account – a fact that became more apparent as I walked round Conner’s house and noticed my previous school peers enjoying themselves in various locations. One of the last things that I remember is stumbling into one of the bedrooms and discovering a group of girls sat in a circle around a tray laden with filled shot glasses, playing some variation of truth or dare. I think they’d convinced me to join them.
But none of that is important.
The morning after, Celeste, Caine and I woke up in Isaac’s house. Caine and I had crashed on the two sofas in the living room. He’d woken up before me, and had appeared to have found a pack of gummy bears. He had one of the little sweets in each hand and was forcing them to make out with each other. I wondered if he was re-enacting what he’d gotten up to at the party, or if he was merely projecting what he wished he’d gotten up to. I knew he had a crush on Autumn Waters, who was in my year and had been my best friend in primary school. We weren’t close anymore – not for any major reason other than that we naturally drifted over time as we became two very different people.
“Canine, you’re such a pervert.” I said around a yawn as I stretched. He glanced over at me, shoved the sweets in his mouth and sat up.
“You can talk, Larry. Don’t think I didn’t see you getting off with North Johnson last night.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about? I spoke to him for like, two seconds.”
He smiled and shook his head. “You don’t remember? Come on, Skylar, you weren’t that drunk.”
Before I could respond our attention was pulled by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. I turned in time to see Celeste heading towards us, legs bare beneath one of Isaac’s larger t-shirts. Her face was a picture of confusion and concern.
“I have seven missed calls from Liberty.” She waved her phone at us.
“Aunt Libby?” Caine’s frown matched Celeste’s.
I checked my own phone. “I have fourteen.”
“Why don’t I have any?” Caine frowned.
Celeste rolled her eyes. “She probably doesn’t have your number, the last time she saw us you were too young to have a phone. I’m gonna call her back. Don’t look so disappointed, Caine, I doubt a call from Liberty is good news.” She turned away and put her phone to her ear. Celeste wasn’t particularly fond of our mother’s younger sister. She labelled her an ‘irresponsible hippy’ – words that she’d actually taken straight from Mum’s mouth. Mum would go on and on about the travesty that was Aunt Libby and all the horrible choices she made. But whilst Celeste had taken on everything Mum said about her disasterly little sister, she clearly ignored the fact that Mum would always end her rants with a sigh of ‘I do love her though, dear old Liberty’.
Isaac came down mid-call. He watched Celeste for a moment before sitting beside me.
“Who’s she on the phone to?”
“Our Aunt. She left us loads of missed calls.” I told him.
“Oh. Are your parents okay?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Our parents? Why wouldn’t they be?”
He shrugged and didn’t say anything more.
During the phone call Aunt Libby had told Celeste that she was staying at a Bed and Breakfast in town and needed us to meet her there. She’d apparently made it very clear that we by all means should not go home, but straight to her. Celeste borrowed Isaac’s parent’s car and drove us to the place. Aunt Libby was waiting outside, looking exactly the same as she had five years ago: dyed blue dreadlocks pulled back from her face, nose ring in place, black vest-top revealing the plethora of henna-inspired tattoos scaling her arms. Celeste gave her a frosty greeting upon exiting the car and insisted that Aunt Libby ‘get on with whatever she wanted from us’.
She took us up to her rented room. She sat on the bed and hugged the pillow to her. She told the three of us to sit down.
“You know, it’s funny how I’d just gotten off my flight and was at Gatwick airport when I got the call. I was just stopping off in Ireland for a few days and figured while I was so close I would come and visit you lot-”
“Yeah, yeah, we don’t want to hear stories about how you’re travelling the world. Cut to the chase. What call are you talking about?” Celeste hurried her on, making Aunt Libby purse her lips.
“Celeste, I know I’m not the best aunt in the world but-”
“Cut to the chase.” Celeste insisted.
Aunt Libby watched her for a moment, before nodding her head slowly. “Okay.” She sighed, dropping the pillow beside her and placing her hands on the knees of her crossed legs. “While you were out last night… Something happened to your parents.” She paused and I could hear the sharp intake of Celeste’s breath, and the way Aunt Libby seemed to swallow around a lump in her throat before she carried on. “There was a fire. At your house. That’s why I told you not to go there.” She stopped again, chewing her lower lip and linking her fingers together.
“But mum and dad are okay though, yeah?” Caine asked, nodding, and Celeste looked at him with an exasperated expression because she already knew the answer.
“No.” Aunt Libby shook her head in response. “No, Caine, they’re not.”
She’d offered to look after us. To become our guardian. She told us that she had enough money to buy a place for the four of us, and that she’d stop travelling so that she could support us. Celeste said no, and that she’d do it herself, that she was far more fit to be a mother than Aunt Libby was. And then she stood up to leave, grabbing me by the collar as she left. I reached out my hand to hold Caine’s. That was the last we saw of Aunt Libby.
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