‘She’s not a fortune teller! She draws tarot cards for people to help them find new ways of looking at their lives. She’s got a degree in psychology!’
‘From where, the University of Magical Bullshit?’ says Art.
‘From Trinity!’ I say triumphantly. ‘Same as you. So yes, the University of Magical Bullshit.’
‘She did psychology? Really?’ Art ignores my dig at his alma mater, but he looks insultingly surprised to learn that my tarot-reading friend has a degree from the place. ‘I had a few friends in psychology. Would I have known her? Was she a goth too?’
I glower at him. ‘Neither of us were goths, and no, you didn’t know her. I asked if she remembered you and she had absolutely no idea who you were.’ So there, golden boy! Not everyone knew your name.
‘Huh,’ says Art. ‘So do you believe in all that tarot nonsense?’
‘I believe it can give you really useful insights,’ I say. ‘It can offer you a fresh perspective on whatever’s bothering you. So yes, I do believe in it.’ I really don’t like him mocking another thing that means a lot to me, to say nothing of mocking Roo’s successful career.
Art shakes his head. ‘Wow. I’m surprised.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t be,’ I say. ‘I literally told you I was witchy in college. It’s not my fault you’re obsessed with thinking I was a goth.’
‘I’m not—’ says Art. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult your friend’s job.’
‘Yeah, the magical bullshit thing wasn’t insulting at all,’ I say dryly.
‘I just wasn’t expecting to hear your friend was a psychologistturned tarot reader!’ says Art. ‘It’s not exactly a regular job. So how are you helping her at this launch yoke?’
‘I’m not going to tell you,’ I say. ‘You’ll only take the piss out of it.’
‘I won’t,’ says Art. ‘Well, not much.’
‘If you must know,’ I say, ‘I’m going to be her assistant.’
‘Like a magician’s assistant?’ Art looks intrigued. ‘Very glamorous.’
I give him a severe look. ‘Stop imagining whatever you’re imagining.’ Thankfully, we’ve reached the point where Art should be turning off in the direction of the IBC bicycle sheds. ‘I’m not telling you any more about it. Go and get your bike. I’ll see you on Monday.’
As I turn away from him and start walking towards the gates, I hear him call after me, ‘Don’t drop any crystal balls!’
Chapter Fifteen
INT: ROSE PEARL / INT: SCHOOL BATHROOM
‘You know, I really appreciate you doing this,’ says Roo.
It’s Saturday morning, and I’m helping her pack her work paraphernalia into a pair of wheelie suitcases. There’s way more of it than you’d think when you watch her videos.
‘It’s grand,’ I say. ‘I’m actually looking forward to seeing you in action. Also I’m going to heckle you from the back of the restaurant.’
Roo gives me a look and places a stuffed owl into her suitcase. ‘By the way,’ she says, ‘I’m going on another date on Friday.’
‘Yes!’ I’m so pleasantly surprised to hear this I almost drop the candelabra I’m putting in the case. ‘With who?’
‘His name is Daragh.’ Roo shows me a photo. Obviously you can’t judge a book by its cover – there was nothing about Roo’s last date’s photo that screamed ‘clown egg’ – but Daragh is definitely good-looking, and he certainly looks more warm and friendly than Justin.
‘He looks lovely,’ I say truthfully. ‘How long have you been chatting to him? And why didn’t you tell me about it?’
‘We’ve only been messaging since yesterday,’ says Roo. ‘And we just arranged the date this morning.’
‘What changed your mind about dating?’
‘I dunno,’ says Roo. ‘Your little post-clown-egg pep talk, probably.’