The Fandom(44)

‘Ash!’ I finally say. I knew I would run into Ash eventually, but Rose didn’t meet him until later tonight, in the Imp-hut. He certainly wasn’t watching her from a tree in canon. I don’t know what those two threads are playing at right now, but after being entwined for so long, they’ve decided to diverge. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon,’ I say.

‘Ash?’ Nate still clings to me, though he’s at least stopped jumping. ‘As in, Ash from canon? Rose’s puppy?’

Ash ignores him. ‘I figured.’

‘How does he even know you?’ Nate asks me.

But I ignore him too.

We stare at each other – Ash and me – this awkward silence hanging between us, lips parted like we want to speak but don’t know how. The paleness of his eyes alarms me and I feel a sudden urge to apologize. I move like I might take his hand, but instead make this strange fluttering motion in front of my face. I suddenly remember how useless I am with boys, how much I need that script.

I see Nate in my peripheral vision, studying my face and mumbling, ‘Oh no.’ He pushes his hands into his hair and grimaces. ‘This is not canon.’

I just keep gawping at Ash. This muddle of emotions pushes up my throat – sheer pleasure just because he’s here, awkwardness, like my limbs don’t quite fit on my body, and this guilty feeling like I’ve been caught cheating.

Nate looks from me to Ash and back. ‘Oh no, oh no, oh no.’ He leans against a trunk like it’s all too much. ‘Why didn’t I notice before? He’s even got the stupid dystopian-love-interest name – Ash – like Gale or Four or something.’ He slithers to the floor, all the joy leaking out of him. ‘This is going to balls up everything.’





I see Ash in the Imp-hut later that night – this was the point when he first met Rose in canon, completely unaware of her true identity as a rebel, completely unaware of her relationship with Willow. He offered to show her the ropes and took her apple picking. He looked so affable, so naive. But this Ash, my Ash, looks positively suspicious, pissed off even. I guess it isn’t just Gems who disapprove of Imp–Gem relationships.

I pretend I don’t notice him, and instead focus on Saskia’s instructions. She sits opposite me and Nate at the pine table. We warm our hands on mugs of hot tea, and she inadvertently blows steam at us while she speaks. ‘So if you want to blend in, you need to get on with chores for the rest of the night. Some of the Night-Imps choose to travel back to the city come morning, the ones with families and responsibilities, but we’re better off sleeping here, minimize your contact with the guards as much as possible.’

The mention of the guards sends a shiver down my spine.

Saskia pretends not to see. ‘Nate, you can help mow the lawns, Violet—’

Ash cuts over her. ‘I could always do with a hand picking apples.’

This surprises me. Judging from his expression, I’m the last person he wants to spend time with. Maybe I’m due an ear bashing.

Saskia shrugs. ‘Yeah, whatever, just don’t work her too hard, Squirrel.’

I step from the dank air of the Imp-hut. The moon casts the estate in a milky glow and the stars stretch into for ever. I follow Ash across the paddock and around the lake, which sits like a giant opal in the night. The air feels at its coldest, and the scent of smoke finally dwindles, overpowered by wet leaves and soil. I resist the urge to rub my eyes, the lack of sleep and the stress gradually pulling at my seams.

At this point in canon, Ash bombarded Rose with questions, hanging on her every reply, studying her face with large, puppy-dog eyes. So, what’s your name? What part of the city do you come from? But right now, I’m met with an awkward silence. I begin to wish we could follow the movie script, but with our history, it would make no sense.

‘So why did Saskia call you Squirrel?’ I finally ask. I know the answer of course, but I can’t bear the tension any more.

He continues to plonk one foot in front of the other. His reflection in the water shoots away from him like a spike. ‘It’s just a nickname.’

‘Yeah, I guessed that, but why?’

Finally, he meets my eye, causing a tiny ripple of excitement in my belly. He then runs at a nearby oak tree, planting the ball of his foot on the trunk and jumping from the other foot. One arm wraps around the trunk, the other grabs a low-hanging branch, and he lugs himself up so his pelvis rests on the bough. He swings his legs up so he sits, back bolt upright, arms folded like an elf. He looks down at me and laughs. He’s hardly broken a sweat.

I laugh too. ‘OK, OK, I get it . . . it’s because you’ve got buck teeth, right?’

‘At least you didn’t crack a joke about me liking nuts.’ He grips the branch with his legs and lets his body fall back so he hangs upside down like a bat. This makes him look really strange, his hair falling away from his face and his cheeks sagging towards his eyes. I can’t help thinking of the upside-down kiss in the old Spider-Man movie. Maybe following the script isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

‘Now you’re just showing off,’ I say.

‘Maybe.’ He places his hands on the branch and lets his body unfold, landing on his feet with a gentle thud.

We pass beneath the trailing wisteria and enter the orchard. I glance nervously at the spot where I spoke with Willow. That guilty feeling worms around in my gut again. Ash squats down and whacks a black cube with the side of his fist. A bulb flickers into action like an old movie projector starting up – a portable floodlight, coating the orchard in a sticky white light. He grabs a wicker basket, his arm sending a giant, shadowy butterfly wavering across the trunks.