Evan Farrington's Confession | ✔️

sixteen

"Shit," William said, appreciatively. "I'd hate to see the other guy."

Evan chuckled weakly. The afternoon was chilly but muggy enough to soak the edges of Evan's hair.

"It was just my brother."

"Hey, do you want to come back to mine?" asked Will. Evan lifted her head and looked at him. "My mom does a lot of baking and Mondays are scones. If.. you like scones."

He pronounced it to rhyme with 'stone' rather than 'gone'.

"Yeah, that sounds good," she said, taking a small step closer to him. "Sc-oh-nes."

William grinned. "How else am I supposed to say it?"

"Scones?" Evan said, laughing. She never argued about pronunciation. A losing battle to try and make people agree on something that nobody in the history of time had ever agreed on. But there was something fun about it.

"So you'll come?"

"Yeah. I love scones."

(not a good idea not a good idea)

She knew she should've said no. It wasn't a good idea. But the words had been out of her mouth before she even had time to think about the consequences. Their feet hit the pavement with light slaps, causing the sheen of rain on the concrete to shimmer between light and dark. He would find out. He knew about the Emperors, it was only a matter of time before he found out about everything else. Even so, Evan felt a small smile tugging at her lips.

(a friend?)

She shook her head minutely. No. Not yet. The street on her left was petering off, the houses getting further and further apart. Eventually they stopped altogether as the road became a motorway. The forest remained constant on her right, thickening and thinning periodically.

"Here we are," said William, coming to a stop in front of what Evan assumed was his house. It was nice. Modern and clean, with a bright lawn that looked plastic. There was the faint hum of a sprinkler despite the damp weather. The house was white and had the appearance of two blocks stacked on top of each other at a stylish angle. A sparrow perched on the still fence, teetered for a second, then took off in a silent flutter of feathers.

"I love your house," Evan said as they stepped through the glass door into a fresh smelling vestibule. She couldn't remember ever being in quite such a pristine home. It seemed to tinkle.

William grimaced slightly. "Yep." He slid off his shoes and propped them neatly on a rack. His socks had Wonder Woman on them.

Evan took off her boots and nudged his foot with her toe. "Cool socks." William's face flushed pink.

"Hey Mom?" William said. Although his voice was loud, it had a feeling of quiet to it, like there was someone in the house he was desperate not to wake.

Evan followed him through a tall arch into the pure white kitchen. The smell of baking inflated her nose. A woman stood by the counter, her face tainted by a faraway smile. She looked like she'd aged recently after getting all too used to looking youthful. Her hair was straight and Evan couldn't tell if it was platinum blonde or white.

"Evan, this is my mom," William said. The woman stretched out her pale hand, her eyes directed at Evan but so vacant that Evan didn't feel like she was being looked at.

"I'm Anne, pleased to meet you," William's mum said. Evan took her hand. It was cold and bony. She didn't shake Evan's hand, just held it in hers for a moment before letting go.

"I'm Evan," Evan said.

"...Evan..." Anne turned the word over in her mouth. She blinked. "Want a scone? They're fruit." 

Evan took a quick breath through her nose. "That's basically why I'm here."

William chuckled and got a couple of square plates out of a cupboard and put a scone on each.

"Jam first or cream first?" he asked Evan.

"Jam."

"Wise choice," he said, cutting open the scones and filling them with dark jam and thick cream. He handed one to Evan.

"We're gonna go to the sitting room, Mom, is that okay?" William asked, carefully dipping his finger in the jam spilling out of his scone. He pressed it between his finger and thumb, watching it stretch between them.

"Sure, honey. I'll get dinner on."

William paused for a second then nodded, ushering Evan out of the too clean, too perfect kitchen. Anne didn't move once they had left.

The lounge was just as clean although thankfully had a slightly more comfortable colour scheme of pale blue with navy cushions. The wall was hung with warm pictures of beaches. Evan noticed one featuring a small boy in swimming trunks hanging near the door. She gave it a good look as they passed. The mop of curls atop the boys head left no doubt that it was William. His mother must have taken the photo. The boy was clinging to the leg of a man in jeans and a white shirt. Evan wanted to ask about the man. Something about his face sparked curiosity inside her. But she didn't, instead choosing to sit down and avoid screwing up the one relationship that hadn't yet been screwed up. It was most likely his dad.

"How am I not going to get jam on these seats?" Evan asked. "Maybe it's better if I just stand."

William smiled. "Don't sweat it. Here." He flipped both of the sofa cushions revealing what appeared to have once been an entire bowl of tomato soup and a muddy footprint on the other. Evan grinned and sat down on the red stain.

"Much better."

"Some stains just don't come out," William said, taking a big bite of his scone and covering his mouth while he chewed. It took two swallows. "That's why sofa cushions have two sides."

Evan took a bite of her scone and a raison dropped onto her plate. It was buttery and warm. "This is the best scone I've ever had," she said. "And I am not one for superlatives."

"Super-what-ives?"

"It's not important," Evan said, taking another bite.

Something perceptible hung in the air. The Emperors. Not the shadowy people but the concept, the conversation waiting to be had. 

--

Jam first or cream first? Just asking but if you get the answer wrong I will find you. Joking but actually not joking.

Love always,

-pinknaails

xx