Becoming P.T. Lyfantod - 20
A serial fantasy novel
What follows is Part 20 of Becoming P.T. Lyfantod
If you missed Part 1, start there:
“I can’t believe they’re here,” Stuart breathed.
Iain said nothing. He was too busy trying to squeeze impressions of his fingers into his handlebars. I couldn’t believe it either. What were the odds an offhand comment I made to wind Iain up would turn out to be right? The three of us straddled our bikes outside Joe’s front window. Inside, Merry and Tom Firth sat at a table eating ice cream. They had their own bowls at least. I don’t know what Iain would’ve done if they’d been sharing.
It was weird, seeing Merry on a date. Like seeing a giraffe outside the zoo. Part of me knew it was a perfectly reasonable place for her to be, but another felt as though unspoken rules were being broken.
She looked…different. She’d done something to her hair that I was having a hard time putting a finger on. It was still shoulder-length, still blonde and unruly, but somehow that unruliness now seemed intentional. Then there were her clothes. There was no ignoring those. The Merry I knew was inclined toward outfits that were comfortable, easy to move about in. Baggy t-shirts. Shapeless jeans. I’d never thought to see her in a blouse or a skirt, and yet here she was. It was as though some spell had been cast, or perhaps dispelled, and as her friend I now felt compelled to keep my eyes above her neckline.
Tom said something. Merry laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear. Was that an earring? I glanced worriedly at Iain. The heat he was giving off was palpable.
“This is weird,” said Stuart. “Watching… We should go. What if they see us?”
Iain ignored him. Even together, I knew there wasn’t a chance in hell Stuart and I could drag Iain away if he didn’t want to go. I was terrified he was going to go inside and do something reckless.
“Come on,” I prodded. “There’s nothing you can do here. She’ll come around eventually. Give it ti—”
I gulped.
“…time.”
Tom and Merry had seemed oblivious to the outside world, lost in one another’s eyes. I’d been fairly certain they wouldn’t see us if we avoided drawing attention to ourselves. But Tom, by the will of whatever god we’d apparently offended, had glanced toward the window. Now he was staring right at us, a crease between his brows.
Stuart whimpered.
The corners of Tom’s mouth quirked upward and he nudged Merry in the shoulder. He pointed. Merry turned. And as we watched, as if in slow motion, she locked eyes with Iain. For an instant that felt like an eternity, no one moved. I cursed myself for not going straight to Clyne Woods. Stuart moaned.
And Iain… Iain looked like a deer facing a runaway train.
Merry’s face darkened. I knew that look. We were dead.
Iain took an involuntary step backwards. “We should—”
But Merry was already standing. Why was she so much more frightening in a skirt? She was stalking towards the door. Tom, stylish in a dark blazer and jeans, came smirking close behind. The bell tinkled as the door opened.
“‘Lo, boys.” Tom smiled, trailing Merry out onto the sidewalk. She faced us with her fists clenched tightly at her side.
“What are you doing here?” Merry bit the end off every word.
Tom had brought his ice cream. He drew his spoon lazily between his lips.
“I…” Iain stammered. “We…”
“We came for ice cream,” Stuart blurted, and four sets of eyes swiveled toward him. He shuffled his feet under the scrutiny.
I nodded hurriedly. “Right. But we saw you inside and didn’t want to interrupt, and…”
Merry turned back to Iain. “Is that true?”
Iain swallowed. Nodded.
“Odd. You’ve never gone for ice cream before.”
“Sure we have,” I lied. “Loads of times. We didn’t invite you, because, err…”
“You have to watch your figure,” Iain supplied.
Stuart and I winced. Tom’s smirk widened into a grin. Merry’s face inched towards purple.
“I what?”
“I mean, that’s what my mam always—but you—that is…” Iain’s mouth was moving, but no sound was coming out.
“What he means so say is, we know girls like to be healthy. But us blokes,” I gestured at Iain and Stuart beside me, “we’re disgusting. Like dogs, really. We’d eat rubbish if you put icing on it.”
“That’s what I meant.” Iain’s head bobbed. “Disgusting, us…”
“I can’t argue with that,” said Merry coldly. She crossed her arms and jerked her head towards the shop. “If you’re after ice cream, you might as well get it. We’re leaving.”
“No!” Iain threw out a hand. “Don’t leave on our account. We were just stopping by on our way to Clyne Woods. We’ll be out of your hair in no time.” He looked at Stuart and I. “Right?”
We nodded.
Tom’s eyebrows rose, but a mouthful of vanilla kept him silent.
“Clyne Woods?” Merry said suspiciously. “That’s in the opposite direction. Whatever are you doing there?”
I tried to forestall him, but Iain was oblivious. “It’s a bit of an adventure, really. It was P.T.’s idea. We’re looking for the standing stone of—of… I forget the name. But he’s a bard, and he’s magic. P.T. thinks if we find the stone, we can find magic too. Right P.T.?”
I nodded wordlessly.
Merry’s raised eyebrow was aimed at me. “Is that right?”
“It’s from this book I found. The standing stone of Cyril Lightfoot.”
“Oh,” she said. “Well. Have fun then.”
“Thanks.” I started edging backwards, but Tom stopped me.
“Magic?” He tapped his chin with his plastic spoon. “Real magic?”
“Eh…” I hummed noncommittally. “Maybe. It’s probably nothing—”
“Interesting.” Tom was silent for a moment. He tapped Merry on the shoulder with a knuckle. “Let’s us go too, Mer,” he said.
She turned on him. “What? No! Tom, we’re on a mrhm-hrm-hrm.”
“That’s all right,” said Iain. “You don’t have to come. We’ll get our ice cream and—”
Tom shook his head. “I’ve made up my mind. We’re going!” He wrapped an arm around Merry’s shoulder and smiled. “It’ll be fun! Three’s company. But five? Five’s a party!” He leaned in and murmured in Merry’s ear. “Besides, Mer, we’ll have plenty of opportunities for murmahurm.”
When he winked, I thought I might vomit. Iain looked torn between wringing Tom’s neck and running away. Merry’s face was resigned, but her eyes said, “I’m going to make you regret this. All of you.”
The five of us found ourselves riding back towards Clyne Woods. Iain, Stuart, and I all had ice cream cones. Mine was chocolate. Stuart had mint chip, and Iain vanilla.
“I don’t know how you can eat that,” said Stuart to Iain, licking his cone. “Vanilla is vile.”
“Uh-huh.” Iain was too busy trying to watch Merry out of the corner of his eye to notice much else. Pale rivulets ran down the back of his hand. I rode at the head, trying to convince myself this wasn’t a catastrophe. More eyes meant more chances of finding the stone, but two of those eyes belonged to Tom Firth. If we found it while he was there, he’d try to take credit for sure. And if Tom got magic, what were the chances of him not turning into a villain? If we ended up having to murder Merry’s boyfriend for the good of mankind, she might never forgive us. Even if it was Tom Firth.
