The Fragile Ordinary

It was wonderful.

The entire day was the first day we didn’t speak of Stevie or Jimmy or Alana. It was the first day Tobias didn’t ask me if someone had bothered me at school. The answer for the past week had been no. After our confrontation with Stevie and Jimmy, things had gone eerily quiet. I’d caught only a few glimpses of the two of them at school, and they weren’t in the cafeteria at lunchtime. Alana had said a few snide remarks in the corridor between classes but she, too, melted away, whether in boredom or...or had Stevie told them all to back off? We’d waited all week for one of them to give us grief, but nothing had happened. Still, we couldn’t yet relax not knowing where Stevie’s head was at. Or in fact where Stevie was at.

But here, with winter needling our cheeks until they were rosy red and our grips slipping because of our thick gloves, I squealed as I almost fell, giggling as Tobias caught me and then struggled to stay standing. We fell against the rink barriers, arms wrapped around one another, our laughter dancing together, and I felt the safest, the most content that I’d felt in a long time.

Finally, deciding ice skating was neither of our forte, we left the ice and changed back into our shoes.

“Do you want to do the Ferris wheel?” I said as we strolled hand in hand—or glove-covered hand in glove-covered hand—back to Princes Street.

“Let’s leave that for night.” Tobias let go of my hand to slide his arm around my shoulders. He pulled me into his side and admitted, “I haven’t visited the castle yet.”

Shocked by this I decided we had to rectify that immediately. It was at least a twenty-minute walk up to the castle, and we stopped at a stall to buy a hot chocolate for our journey. Up on the Mile we lingered over street art, jewelry and a sword eater whom we and a crowd encircled in fascinated horror.

Sufficiently freaked out I led Tobias up Castle Hill and onto the castle esplanade.

“Nice driveway,” Tobias said as we walked toward the entrance. His gaze roamed the view of the city below.

“Just wait. It gets better up there.” I pointed to the castle.

Inside, Tobias insisted on paying for my ticket, and then I led him up the cobbled path to the main thoroughfare. From there we visited the Great Hall where royal ceremonies were held; we saw the Royal Palace and the Stone of Destiny upon which centuries of kings of Scotland had been enthroned; the crown jewels; St. Margaret’s Chapel, which was built around 1130, making it Edinburgh’s oldest building; Mons Meg the medieval European cannon gun; and the one o’clock gun that was fired at, well, one o’clock every day, a tradition that had started back in the 1800s to allow the ships on the Firth of Forth to set their maritime clocks. Although Tobias didn’t study history or enjoy it like I did, he wanted to see everything, including the regimental museums, the national war museum and the prison re-creation.

Finally, we stopped at the Half Moon Battery, the great curved wall that hosted the cannons and gave the castle its unique profile. From there we had a fantastic view over the city. I pointed out Calton Hill with its Athenian acropolis. And Arthur’s Seat, an ancient volcano and the main peak of the hills that formed most of Holyrood Park.

“I haven’t climbed it yet,” Tobias said.

“What have you been doing since you got here?”

He smirked down at me. “Chasing after a girl.”

Delighted, I tried hard not to grin back. “He says with absolutely no embarrassment or pricked male pride.”

Tobias’s gaze softened. “She’s no ordinary girl.”

I blushed and wrapped my arms around one of his, hugging in close. “We should climb Arthur’s Seat. Or you should climb it with Luke and Andy.” Tobias had grown closer to the sixth year and to Andy in our year, both of whom were on the rugby team. Although he hadn’t wanted to leave me at lunchtime in case anyone tried to start in on us again, I knew Steph and Vicki probably wanted our girls-only time back, and I had to imagine Tobias was missing hanging out with just the guys.

“We could all climb it.”

“I’ll bring the girls then, too.”

After a moment of silence I ventured to say, “You know you can start eating lunch with the boys from the rugby team at school now.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re sick of me?” he teased.

“No.” I shoved him playfully. “I just think we should get back to normality. We shouldn’t let Stevie and his delinquent friends mess with our heads anymore.”

Tobias stared out at the city, his gaze drawn to the opulent lights of the Christmas Fair. “How about we start that after Christmas? Just to be sure.”

I could give him that. “Sounds like a plan.”

He turned into me, sliding his hands around my waist and drawing me close. I stared up at him expectantly but what he said next surprised me. “Now I want to visit this poetry café of yours.”

“Pan?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s part of you. It’s something you enjoy. And I’m expecting you to come cheer me on at my rugby games, so I feel it’s only fair I go to your thing, too.”

I struggled not to laugh. “My thing?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Trying to be supportive and mature here.”

“I know,” I chuckled. “And it’s much appreciated. But Tobias... Pan isn’t really your type of thing.”

“But it’s yours,” he reiterated. “And I want to see it.”

THE FRAGILE ORDINARYSAMANTHA YOUNG

22

His kisses feel like a calm before the storm,

Like waves crashing harder and harder to shore.

I’m pushed in deep waters, feeling myself transform,

Now just lips, body, hands searching for more.

—CC

While I’d been excited about Tobias’s reaction to Princes Street at Christmastime, I was afraid to look at his face when we walked into Pan. I was afraid of his judgment since his opinion meant so much to me.

“Drink?” he asked, drawing my reluctant gaze. He wore a neutral expression.

“I’m okay.”

“I’m going to get a coffee. You grab us a table.”

I nodded, bemused by his lack of reaction. Well, not lack of reaction, but lack of judgment really. He just took in the tie-dyed scarfs, weird murals and smell of patchouli mixed with coffee like it was no big deal. Grabbing a table for two at the window, I took off my hat and scarf and listened to the woman onstage recite a poem that was clearly about loss. It was a busy day, Tobias and I taking the last little table left.

He returned a few minutes later with his coffee and turned in his seat so that he could watch and listen to the woman. When she was done and everyone clapped, Tobias clapped, too.

“What do you think?” I asked.

Tobias was quiet as he slipped off his beanie hat and stuck it into the pocket of his jacket. Finally, he made eye contact with me. “She was good.”

“And the rest of the place?”

He grinned and stared around at the space. “Eclectic,” he finally landed on.

I smirked. “Very diplomatic.”

Before he could respond a young guy, perhaps a few years older than us, stood at the mic and introduced himself. And then he began to read his poem. Like the woman before him, his poem was in free verse. I studied Tobias’s profile as he listened but I couldn’t get a read on him. When the young guy finished and people started chattering among themselves, Tobias looked at me. Whatever he saw on my face made his eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“No one rhymes anymore. I mean...my poetry sometimes doesn’t have a measurable meter, so it technically is free verse, but I rhyme.”

“So?”

“My poetry seems childish in comparison.”

“No it doesn’t,” he said immediately and vehemently. “Yours is funny and thoughtful and sometimes sad. And I get it. Just because your poetry is different to the people in here doesn’t mean you don’t have something to say.” Tobias reached across the table and took my hand in his warm one. “After everything you’ve been through, Comet, you have to know you’re brave. You showed your poetry to Mr. Stone. You’re willing to publish it in the lit mag. The next step is that stage up there.”