A Toy With Wings

Eleven

We went camping for a night near the gorges, next to some guys who let us share their camping spot. It had taken my arguing skills, Kev's compromising skills, Jez's threatening skills, and yes, Evangeline Youngspire, my sweet love's flirting skills until they let us share.

We settled, and had a game of Truth or Dare, with one of Evan's glitter barettes as a spinner.

The spinner lands on Kev. "Kevin, truth or dare?" asks Jez.

"Um…truth," he replies.

"Who's your crush?" Jez asks with a smile.

Kev flushed bright red. "Well…"

"'Fess up!" Evangeline encouraged.

"IwellIhadacrushonthatNataliegirlatheadquartersbutnotanymore," he mumbled, then he spun the spinner.

It's me. "Dare but no extremes."

Kev raises an eyebrow. "Which means…"

"I won't get injured, I won't get in trouble, and I won't have to tell a little psychopath a story."

"Okay," Evangeline grins wickedly.

"I dare you…" says Jezebel. "I dare you to kiss someone."

I smile. I have a way around that. I'm not kissing Kevin, I'm not gay, and I'm not kissing Jezebel either, now that I know she's gay. It has to be Evangeline.

I blow a kiss at her. "Done." I pick up the spinner and spin it.

The spinner lands on me. Again.

I shrug and spin it again. It lands on Jezebel. "Jessie, t-"

"Don't call me that," Jez snaps.

I sigh. "Fine. Truth or dare?"

"Truth," replies Jezebel.

"Boyfriend?" asks Evangeline.

Fuck, why is my apprentice so interested in other people's dating statuses?

Jez winks at me. "None."

"You winked at him," Evangeline accused. "You're with him."

Jezebel then winks at Evangeline, then Kev. "There."

Boss.

Evangeline sighs. "Then who's your crush?"

"None."

Fun fact? Jez is actually honest.

"Stop lying!" Evangeline demands.

Jez shrugs. "Girl, I'm honest."

Evangeline sighs. "Fine."

Jez spins the barette. It lands on Kev.

"Truth or dare?" I ask.

"Truth," replies Kev.

"Darkest secret?" Jez asks.

"I'm scared of cats," he admits, and the spinner lands on Evangeline.

"Evan! Truth or dare?" I ask.

"I'm going to bed," announces Kev.

"Truth," says Evangeline at the same time.

"Name the truth you don't want anyone to ask you during this game," says Jez.

Damn, she's cool.

Evangeline sighs. "Fine. I don't want anybody asking me who my crush is."

"Aww," I taunt. The girls glare at me.

The spinner lands on me. I'm truthed if I've ever peed in a pool (nope). Next, Evangeline is dared to act like a monkey (she moans that she doesn't have a banana).

I'm landed again, and I'm dared to act like Evangeline for a minute. I spend the entire time brushing my curls and smirking like an idiot.

Jez is dared to sabotage a tent. She grins wickedly, grabs two bottles of spray paint, and spray paints a blue-grey one.

Me again, and I tell everybody about my grades in class. They tell me my grades are good, but…

Everybody in junior flappers school lined up to receive their test papers. First up was a girl called Harper. She was usually at the bottom of the class, so she beamed at the 78 she got.

The next child groaned loudly. His name was Ronaldo, and he had gotten a 56 and a fail.

On and on, the children all took their papers. You could tell which kids got good grades on sight: their little faces lit up with radiant smiles.

Last of all was little Orson Goldbloom. As Mr. Smith handed him his test paper, he whispered, "Well done."

The instant little Orson had taken a peep at his paper, he burst into noisy tears.

"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Smith, concerned.

"It's one mark lower than last time!" Little Orson wept, waving the paper in the air. It had a huge 97 in red written on it, and a glittery smiley-face sticker.

"Orson, cheer up! I only got 10!" said a boy with lots of freckles across his wide cheeks.

This just caused little Orson to start crying again.

"And now, I'm done," I announced, spinning the spinner.

The barette rotates once…twice…two and a half…

"Evangeline! Truth or dare?" I ask.

"Dare," she says simply.

"Lick a tree," I tell her.

She glares at me, but does.

She nudges the spinner slightly, and it lands on me. "Orson, truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Who's your crush?"

"None at the moment. Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Who's your crush?"

Evangeline Youngspire's mouth firms the word 'shit'.

"Go on," says Jezebel.

Evangeline turns the colour of a strawberry milkshake. And I'm stunned by which name she utters.

It's Kev.

That night, I go to bed, with Jez on night shift. Did notorious, annoying, jerkass, fuck-up Evangeline Youngspire seriously like simple, quiet and quaint Kevin Whitehunter?

This is so fucking complicated. I need a drink.

And the night was already rocky enough. We didn't really need Jezebel's screaming waking us up at three a.m. in the morning.