Watford Tales

Ice and Blood

Baz

Wellbelove catches me up after Greek next afternoon and asks if she can talk to me for a moment. I kind of know what's coming.

"Baz," she says once we're away from the herd of milling students, walking on a cobblestone path between the Weeping Tower and the Cloisters. It's a melty kind of day, not exactly sunny, but bright. As if winter is loosening its grip. Agatha has on a white ski jacket and a sky blue knit cap. She's whipping her gorgeous hair around as she walks. Her head is high but I can tell she's nervous by the way she's twisting her hands together.

"I thought...... you might want to go to the Winter Ball with me." She says it too fast, her lovely blue eyes locked onto mine.

Oh dear.

How can she not know. About me and Simon. Everyone else seems to . Even the bloody halal man gave us a special "Aren't you two cute together?" smile. But Wellbelove just stands there expectantly, looking pale and lovely in the weak winter sunshine. Too fucking good looking for her own damn good.

Her blue eyes are boring into me. Stubborn. Like she's not backing down. It reminds me of Simon, in an uncanny sort of way. I genuinely don't know what to say. Which isn't really like me. At last I say the only thing I can think of.

"Agatha, I'm gay."

She stares at me, like I've just said I'm an alien from another planet or something. She kind of crumples, somehow. Her haughty, flirtatious demeanor evaporates. We stand there, awkwardly, neither of us knowing what to say.

"Are you sure?" she asks, at last.

I laugh at that, a short bitter laugh. "Yeah," I say. "I'm sure."

"Is that what you meant? That time?"

"What time?"

"You said you were wrong for me. You said... learn the difference."

"Yes." I say. "Yes. That is exactly what I meant."

She staggers a bit and for a moment I think I might have to reach out to catch her so she doesn't fall, but she recovers. She looks off at the horizon and swallows, hard.

"But Baz," she whispers.

This really is too painful.

"Yes?"

"I....I really like you." Is that a tear in her beautiful blue eye? Fuck.

"I'm sorry Agatha," I say.

I turn to walk away. And I start walking. Head high, long strides. Like I don't give a fuck. I get about three steps and I stop.

I don't know why I do it. It must be Simon's influence. All that apple cheeked goodness is starting to rub off on me. But fuck it, I just don't want to leave Agatha standing there miserable, like I'm a complete arse. I turn toward her. Her eyes are kind of pink and her nose is dripping and she doesn't look that beautiful right now. She looks sad. Which makes it easier to say what I have to say.

"Agatha."

She sniffs and looks at the ground. For some reason I think of my mother, her rough hands, her voice saying, "The strength of the spell is in the heart of the caster."

"I really am sorry. I mean, I apologize. I've been an arse. I shouldn't have flirted with you, and I did." She just stands there, looking down. Frozen. Like the ice queen.

"And I can't be your boyfriend. But maybe I could just......be your friend?"

Nothing.

"You were brilliant with the Humdrum. I mean you saved us Agatha. It was smart and....It was......brave and.....righteous."