Chapter Text

Phil hadn’t been to school in a long time. No one had, considering that this was the first day of the school year, so no one should’ve felt bad about their absence, really. But there was still tension in the building that day, like every year, the students felt that prickling sensation crawling on their skin in the same way, like when someone arrived late and everybody just stared.

The walk home from school is long and dull. Phil knows it by heart and often finds himself walking through the village even in his dreams, whatever that means. First, comes the bridge, which pretty much everyone passes over at the end of the school day. Then, there’s the long walk all across town, which gets lonelier and emptier the farther you get. Next comes the bakery, which Phil almost always walks next to trying to catch a whiff of the lovely smell coming from the inside. And when he finally manages to break loose from the bewitching smell of freshly baked bread, there’s another bridge, followed by a little pathway right next to the forest. Remain on this lane for about 20 minutes and you should be right outside Phil’s home.

Why does Phil dread going home? He doesn’t know. Whatever is stopping him is heavy and it hurts and seems to only grow with each day.

Arawynn is pretty in autumn. Most of the village is covered in greenery, so it’s easy to tell when the leaves plan to fall. Right now, it is only early September and the summer heat hasn’t crept back into its cave just yet, so there are no visible changes present, but Phil senses autumn in the air. It’s the smells, the changes in the wind, the drizzling of the aspen leaves that tell us ‘Hi. Summer is over.’

At some point during the walk there’s a stream. A small bridge crosses it, what was originally just wood and cobblestone is now covered in dirt and small rocks that gathered there through the years. Stream means he’s nearly there, just a few more thoughts and he is home. It doesn’t hurt to stay by the stream for a while, watching the water flow as he ponders why he doesn’t want to go home. When he realises he can’t find a reason, he keeps on walking.

For Phil, opening the door is always a battle of wanting to stay outside versus wanting some peace and quiet inside - by himself. It doesn’t help that the door could easily break down at any minute, which isn’t the most inviting quality of a home ever. It makes him feel unsafe, about to be intruded upon at any minute. Nevertheless, Phil opens the door.

Their house isn’t pretty, never has been since Ida was born. That little rascal. Her toys are scattered pretty much everywhere; it’s hard to walk without stepping on her closest friends, which upsets her very much. The kitchen is okay, but the living room reeks of urine and leftover foods that have grown rotten in a corner somewhere over time.

Maybe that’s why Phil doesn’t like going home.

Ida is crying again, screaming her lungs out while grandpa rocks her back and forth in his arms. He shushes her, then goes back to mouthing the words to some lullaby to soothe her. It doesn’t seem to be working, but what does Phil know. Something seems to be different, though; a change in the atmosphere Phil hasn’t quite figured out yet.

He walks into the living room, glancing at his crying sister. “Where’s Mum?” he asks.

Grandpa looks up. “Hi, Philip,” he says quietly, as to not further upset his grandchild, but casts him a warm smile nonetheless. “At church. They needed help with cleaning up after the sermon.”

“Oh.” Phil puts his bag down next to his bed. “And Ida …?”

“I don’t know. Seems to be the tummy again.” Grandpa places his hand on her belly to demonstrate. Ida twitches, but relaxes when he presses his fingers down a little. “She’s been crying for the past hour. I can’t get her to stop.”

Phil frowns, looking at his sister’s tear-filled eyes. Helpless little soul . He turns to his grandpa. “You need help with anything?”

Grandpa smiles at him again. “Don’t worry, boy. Ida and I are doing just fine.” He brushes Ida’s hair out of her face with his thumb, then leans down to kiss her forehead. “There is a letter for you by your bed. Someone delivered it here earlier. You’ll have to tell me what it says!”

His teeth are golden yellow and crooked. Somehow, his smile is still warm. Phil glances at the little side table by his bed and indeed, there is a letter addressed to ‘Philip Lester’ in beautiful calligraphy, waiting to be opened. And then his jaw drops.

It can’t be …?

Hands shaking, he quickly unfolds the letter with his mind racing a million miles per hour. Ida’s yelling only eggs him on further. The world spins around him, faster, faster yet. He’d tried to not get his hopes up, he wasn’t going to get disappointed, but here, in bold, golden letters, says the words he has been waiting for ever since he wrote his name on that stupid sheet of paper:

Dear Philip Lester,

You have been selected to compete in the Ethereal Championships of Dragon Training of 2019. Details of with competition as well as some guidance can be found on–

He stops reading. It’s like the world around him doesn’t exist anymore. Like Ida’s just a prop and grandpa’s humming is in a different universe, somewhere out of this realm. Or maybe, Phil is the one outside of this realm.

Either way, what the actual hell.

“What does it say?” Phil can feel his grandfather’s anticipating smile in the air, but he can’t respond. In his mind, there is only one being left on earth, a blue little bastard with eyes like diamonds and shiny green wings.

“I gotta go,” he says, quickly shoving the letter in his bag before throwing the bag over his shoulder and sprinting out the house. 

It’s the same road, but the destination is different. The dragon stalls are usually crowded this time of day, but it doesn’t even matter anymore.

Phil cannot wait to tell her the good news.

❖

It is a few weeks later and Phil walks with the same purpose but to a different destination. Worn-out shoes scraping against the dirt pathway and a very impatient dragon following suit marks the soundtrack for today’s journey, and much of the journey ahead. It feels almost like music, the way the anticipation blends with the excitement of his dragon and the rustling of the trees, like a composed work of art meant to suit his exact feelings right here, right now.

Autumn is in full swing and all leaves that were supposed to eventually fall have done so. The ground is sprinkled with leaves in all shapes, sizes and colours, and they crumble under Phil’s feet as he continues down the path. Erin sits on his shoulder, fascinated at the brightness of the world outside of her little stall.

“You excited for the trip?” Phil asks her, reaching a hand up to pet her nose. She nuzzles her head against him, which Phil takes as a yes. He giggles, throwing his bag over his shoulder and turns his head towards the woods again.

There are eleven different villages in Ethereal Fields. Phil has never left his own. Leaving home was tough, he would be lying if he didn’t admit that, but the idea of travelling seemed a lot scarier when confronted with it so suddenly. Like you were suddenly evicted and had to move across the street, effective immediately. Doesn’t make that much of a difference in practice, but messes up your brain a whole lot.

Leaving home was not just scary, but also difficult. Ida was not getting better and Mum worked and struggled every day to be able to give her the medical assistance she needed. There were not a lot of doctors in Arawynn, only a couple of actually good ones, but the ones that did have experience and working medications were also very expensive. Ida had been diagnosed with typhoid and Doctor Margaret had done her best to treat it, but it’s been two weeks and the typhoid has not been cured. Mum is losing her mind with worry. Phil worries too, he does. Generally, he is more optimistic than his mother, and he has tried to be the support she needs in times like this by assuring her that things are going to be okay. It’s just hard to believe when your sister is on the brink of death.

Phil doesn’t know whether it was the right decision to leave or not. Ida could die while he was away and he wouldn’t even be able to say goodbye. But if she lives after these four days, which Phil likes to think she will, he could help her – winning the Ethereal Championships can earn you huge sums of gold which could pay her medical assistance in a second, and if that doesn’t help her live, Phil doesn’t know what will. This is the best he can do for his sister.

“Do you think we’ll have a chance at winning?” he asks Erin. 

She sits still on his shoulder. She doesn’t respond. Just admires the view.

“Not that you even know what we’re doing,” he says, hopelessly smiling to himself as he looks down at the pathway.

Dragons understand humans, but they can’t talk. That makes communicating with them a bit frustrating, to say the least,. Phil never really knows how to explain things to Erin in a way that makes sense to her. She seems to like him, though, and when he speaks she looks like she listens intently every time.

Phil looks at her over his shoulder. “You know, this competition means a lot to me.” Erin perks her head up, looks him in the eyes. “I mean, I’ve been working towards this for so long–” His hands are moving frantically, like he’s trying to convince her of it, though he knows that’s pointless. He looks her in the eye again. “Please don’t mess this up for us, Erin. We didn’t spend hours catching those fish for nothing.”

Her gaze is warm, understanding. Phil knows if she could talk, she would be reassuring him right now.

They continue their journey down the road, Phil’s heartbeat speeding up with every step. He is supposed to meet with a member of the Dragon Training Committee member by the Arawynn townhouse, who will escort him to the camp in Whitmount where the competition will take place. He assumes they will be walking as Whitmount is only a couple of miles away and it is not like they have a lot of other options anyway. The problem isn’t the method of transportation itself, it is the fact that he has to walk with another person for hours. What the hell are they supposed to talk about? What if they don’t get along? Dear God, what if they are allergic to dragons?

It’s stupid, and Phil knows it. He has always been an overthinker, to the point where doing things like this would have been near impossible if he didn’t want it so bad.

Therefore, he walks. And he doesn’t stop at the familiar smell of the bakery. He crosses the bridge, and every step feels like walking on clouds, light and carefree but so, so fragile. It feels like an eternity and no time at all simultaneously, as if  he is asleep and dreaming of a future where he isn’t asleep anymore. But time doesn’t work like that. Time does not stop even when it feels like it has. And even if Phil dreads the encounter ahead of him, that doesn’t stop it from tapping on his free shoulder the moment he crosses the bridge to the town centre.

“This Philip Lester?”

The stranger is a tall man, seemingly in his thirties or forties, wearing what is clearly a uniform. Phil tries not to stare at the flower tattoo on his neck. He is ripped, too; large, defined muscles making his arms resemble giant tree logs, and to be honest, Phil would rather not stare at those either.

So he nods, reaching out his hand to the stranger to shake it. “Phil’s fine.” He tries to ignore the fact that his heart is pounding a million times per minute.

“Anders,” the man says through gritted teeth, seemingly not a fan of the casual attitude Phil had gone in with. Phil feels blood rush to his cheeks.

“Oh, and this is Erin,” Phil says, embarrassed, pointing at his dragon who is looking excitedly at their new travel companion. Erin loves meeting new people, and usually gets along with them too.

This guy is not so friendly, though. “Erin?” He furrows his eyebrows. “Strange name for a dragon. Oh well. We should get going now.”

He turns and starts walking without waiting for Phil’s response, which was kind of rude, but there is no point in saying anything, anyway. Or maybe Phil is just too scared to tell off hunky Anders. Scientists can’t tell.

Phil glances at Erin, and she glances back. They exchange a smile.

Time to leave.

❖

The first night at the camp had started off with a delicious dinner, probably the best meal Phil had ever had in his life. There had been all kinds of exclusive types of meat – the ones you only find at the king’s castle – beer so clean and refreshing even a child would like the taste, vegetables and potatoes and honey and anything you could ever wish for stood before them. Even the desserts had been presented like delicacies; cacao pancakes with honey and strawberry marmalade spread evenly on top with a glass of cow’s milk to accompany the sweetness. Needless to say, Phil had eaten a lot that night.

The only bad thing had been the contestant from Eastshire, a brown-haired boy with a sassy attitude who apparently liked to bully Phil about absolutely everything he did for seemingly no reason at all. He had been commenting on what Phil ate, what he chose to combine it with, how his ginger hair, pale skin and blue eyes looked ‘ghostly’, and that’s just a summary of all the things he said. Basically, he was a pain in the arse. Strangely, Phil thought he recognised him from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place him.

Now the day is coming to an end. All contestants are gathered around a firepit, three members of the Dragon Trainers Committee standing before them, faces illuminated by the gentle glow of the flames. Their dragons have been safely escorted to their stalls, with loads of food and comfortable space for them to walk around in. Phil assumes Erin is doing okay by herself, hopefully getting along with the other dragons or resting alone somewhere. Either seems like something she would do.

The man at the centre of the gathering starts speaking; a tall blonde with a huge scar on his right arm Phil has been too scared to ask about all evening. 

“Welcome, trainers.” His voice is deep, rich with something indescribable. “We hope you have enjoyed your stay in the camp thus far. And that you are all full and content from the food we’ve served.”

He pauses for a moment. The crowd is dead silent.

“You will now be placed in two different cabins,” he continues. “The placements are final, we would rather not switch places around this close to the competition. It makes it all the more confusing.” 

Phil has no idea what his logic is with that statement, but it doesn’t matter. He is too busy staring at the man’s gorgeous lips to even care.

Okay, so. Phil might like boys. He has always known he does. He never told anyone because the attitudes around homosexuality in Arawynn aren’t exactly ideal, but he knows. Here in Whitmount, the village of the championships, people are far more progressive. That is another reason why he always wanted to get out of his own village; to finally be able to kiss whoever he wants.

Unfortunately, it seems the hot guy’s turn to speak was over, as the next piece of information is delivered by the girl on his left. She has bright red hair neatly tucked behind her ears and piercing blue eyes that shimmered with every flame underneath her. She speaks calmly, but more playfully than the guy beside her. “Everyone in the cabin is equally responsible for cleaning and making sure nothing bad happens in there. Should one of the contestants cause significant trouble for the rest, they will be eliminated. So basically, don’t make a mess and don’t set the house on fire.” She smiles at the group, gesturing for the third person to continue with the information.

This one has dark purple hair, which Phil assumes could only be chemically dyed, and seems significantly quieter than his fellow committee members. Every word he mutters is controlled and tranquil, his voice smooth as butter. Phil can’t help but feel a little transfixed by him.

“We wish you a very good night and the best of luck to your dragons. Emeline will now read out the names of the contestants as well as the cabin to which you have been sorted into. Please stay quiet during the presentation to avoid disturbing any easily distracted contestants.” 

The way he speaks is rich, charming, mysterious. Almost like a victorian prince.

The girl, apparently called Emeline, brings out a roll of parchment from her silver bum bag and reads its content out in a clear, bright voice. “Western cabin. Lisa, Bentley, Antonia, Philip–“

A tingle of excitement travels through Phil’s veins and brings the corners of his cheeks up into a smile. This is really happening.

“– Samuel and Daniel.”

Um. Excuse me?

For the committee to know whether you are qualified to compete in the championships you have to do a couple of challenges with your dragon in front of a jury. This is called the Tryouts. The Tryouts had gone well for Phil, evidently as he was here, but just like at dinner, one thing had not gone so well. A cocky, brown-haired boy had frankly, been an ass.

He’d commented especially on Erin that day, how she looked no more intimidating than a siamese cat and that Phil looked too dorky to be able to train a dragon in the first place. He had also been fond of complaining about the organisation, moaning about how much time it took and how he couldn’t wait for it to be his turn so that he could ‘finally prove who deserved to be here’. Phil had tried to not egg him up even more by staying silent, but when that didn’t work, Phil might have snapped at him, which the boy had only laughed at. Needless to say, him and Phil didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.

And so Phil looks at Daniel, mouth gaping wide, and Daniel smirks. How did that little bastard get in here? And Phil has to share a room with him?

Emeline continues with her informational speech as if nothing has changed. “Westerners, I will now show you to your cabin and the others will take care of the rest!” She smiles wide at the group and gestures for them to get up, so Phil and the rest of the ‘westerners’ do exactly that.

Phil sneaks a glance at Daniel again. He seems happy, smiling politely at Emeline as well as the others in the group as they walk towards the cabin. He doesn’t pay much attention to Phil, which Phil is obviously happy about. Instead, he spends most of the walk talking to some brunette girl who from context clues, Phil has figured out is named Antonia.

The cabin is about five minutes away from the firepit, and smells of wood and warmth as soon as they open the door. On the left side of the room are the fireplace and the bathroom, as well as some bookshelves and a desk Phil guesses will be hogged most of the time. To the right are the sleeping places; six nearly made wooden beds stacked up along the wall with a nightstand beside each one and a box to keep their bags underneath the beds. There are several openings all along the walls, making the room feel bright and welcoming.

Phil cannot wait to spend the next few days here.

“All right, listen up,” Emeline says and everyone’s attention turns to her. “You can choose whatever bed you want, but please don’t fight over them, okay? As you can see, there’s room for everyone.” She gestures towards the beds. “Try not to set the house on fire, clean the bathroom and try to be nice to each other even though you guys are competing. Anyone who makes a mess runs the risk of being eliminated.” You can tell this speech is rehearsed and she doesn’t really know what her words entail, because when the atmosphere of the room tenses up at the mere thought of being eliminated, she barely even notices. She is either blind or too inexperienced to tell.

Phil doubts he will get in trouble. He isn’t a very confrontational person, and will usually try to make amends with people before any physical fights happen. Besides, he is physically weak and scared of injuries, so there’s that. That is, unless Daniel gets on his nerves too much.

He looks at the boy, just to see what he is up to; Phil can swear the corners of his lips quirk at the sight of him.

❖

The low-pitched, vibrating and devastatingly loud ring of a bell wakes Phil and the other contestants up in their cabin the following morning. Sunlight shines through the dusty wall openings, casting pretty, golden shadows on the wooden floor. But the beauty of the room is not the main focus on Phil’s mind, though. He’d always been prone to headaches, and the loud start of the day hadn’t exactly helped with that. His head tingles, ready to break out in a migraine any minute. Placing a cold hand to his forehead, he sits up, confused and groggy.

“Good morning, good morning!” says a bright voice from the middle of the room. Phil has a hard time seeing who it is, his vision is always extra blurry in the morning, but judging by the red and green colours of her shirt and socks, it’s a member of the Dragon Trainer Committee. Come to think of it, it’s probably Emeline, since she was in charge of them yesterday. 

“Today is the first day your dragons will be competing. Breakfast is served in the dining hall, same place as we ate yesterday. Hunting begins in an hour, and any of you are free to visit the arena and watch while your dragons compete. There are special seats available for each contestant, so don’t worry, you’ll see just fine. Good luck!” She smiles, waving goodbye to everyone in the cabin before skipping out the door.

“She seems nice,” someone familiar says. Phil looks to his left and if it isn’t anyone but Daniel taking a seat next to him, bouncing his unclothed legs like he had ants running up and down them. His hair is curlier than ever, and Phil could swear it had gone darker too. “You know, I bet she’s actually angry as hell right now but has to keep the happy face up for the committee,” Daniel continues, looking over at Phil with a mischievous grin.

Phil sighs. “Hi, Daniel.”

“Good morning to you too. You can call me Dan.” Of course he has a douchebag nickname too. Phil should have expected it. “Excited for me to kick your and your pathetic little lizard’s asses today?” Dan elbows Phil on the side and ruffles his hair like he’s a five year old about to play a game of kids’ football or something. 

God, this guy is infuriating . Phil swats his hand away and presses his palm to his forehead to somehow try to stop the throbbing pain. “Can’t wait,” he says, too tired and pain-engulfed to even think of a good comeback. “Look, just leave me alone, ‘kay? I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Fine. Okay, as you wish.” Dan puts his hands up in the air. “I’ll leave you …” He sits down on the edge of his bed. “… Alone.”

“Fine. Good.”

Silence follows. Phil reaches for his notebook on the side of his bed and brings out the quill and ink in his bag. The black liquid glimmers in the morning sunlight, reminding him that he really needs to be careful with just how much he uses.

Phil has written poetry pretty much since he learnt to write. It gives him an escape from the world, a place where he can express his thoughts freely in a rhyming, beautiful mess of words and metaphors to describe exactly how he feels at any moment. Most of his poems were written in school, where ink and paper were provided to the students for free, but since he was old enough to work some shifts at his Mum’s church, he’s been buying it for himself. It is not cheap and it is where most of his expenses go, but it is worth it. He needs this.

He opens his last page and stares at the poem before him. He would really like to finish this. A cascade of ideas pop up in his head as soon as he puts the quill to the paper, it’s almost overwhelming. But how do you describe this feeling without being too obvious, what does it taste like, feel like, sound like–

“What’s that?” a familiar voice asks, trying to get a glance of the paper before Phil with his hawk eyes and balloon head towering over Phil’s shoulder.

Great. Just great. He can’t even keep this to himself.

He quickly shuts the notebook, his vision red. “Leave. Me. Alone.” He bites his lower lip, desperately trying not to give into his instincts to just punch the boy right in his stupid face. Who does he think he is, anyway, somebody so important he is entitled to bully and steal Phil’s free time just as he pleases? God, it’s infuriating.

Dan does not take the very unsubtle hint, which is very characteristic of him. “But I don’t wannaaaaa.” He shuffles closer to Phil, almost touching his neck due to the extreme proximity. He looks down and then up like a little puppy, pouting with his lips in a way no boy of his age should do. “I wanna see what tiny dragon boy draws!”

Phil rolls his eyes. “I don’t draw, I write.”

“Well, whatever, I want to see!” He reaches his hand out and almost pulls the book away from him but Phil grabs a hold of it at the last second. Dan groans in disappointment. “Aren’t you gonna go to breakfast anyway?”

“I’ll go later. Not that it concerns you.” Phil shakes his head and tries to look like he is focusing on the words on his page, but to no avail. Even the thickest person could tell he did not have any idea what to write next.

Kind of like his whole life.

Dan quiets for a bit and watches Phil while he tries to concentrate. Phil can see him in the corner of his eye, staring, biting his lips, smiling every so often. What the hell is this boy’s problem, anyway? Was he not taught to be polite to other human beings or does he just not care? There’s pent up anger in Phil’s chest, but nothing seems to come of it. Bubbling under the surface, beneath the lungs and heart.

“Philip?”

Phil sighs and looks up. It’s like he is dealing with a two-year-old. “Yes?”

“Why did you sign up? You don’t seem like the trainer type.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know.” Dan shuts up, studies him for a moment. “I Just sort of had the thought, I guess. Or, you know, guessed it from the fact that you’re so awful at choosing a dragon to train. I presume you wanted a house cat and came back with that instead?”

Bubbling, bubbling. Phil feels as if he is going to burst at any moment. A million comebacks float through his head, all of which could probably get him disqualified from the contest, and some of them involving physical contact between his fist and Dan’s face; that was definitely not permitted. His evil little smirk doesn’t help either. Like he’s so proud of himself, like he’s the most creative person in the universe.

He wants to pull Dan’s hair out.

When Dan gets nothing in response he just stands up, pats Phil harshly on the back so much that he yanks forward and nearly spills ink all over his bed. Then he leaves without another word. Good, now Phil can get back to his writing.

He stares at the paper. Writing is thoughts floating by in a chaotic mess, like sunrays on a prism, all the colours of the rainbow spreading out in all different shades and directions. He searches and searches for the colours he imagined, but gets a grip of none of them. His mind is too clouded and in pain for the sun to shine.

So he leaves too, throwing the book away in his suitcase like it means nothing. 

❖

After breakfast, which was probably the biggest second meal Phil has ever had, he pays a quick visit to his little friend in the dragon stalls. Erin greets him eagerly at his arrival, tail wagging back and forth and eyes glimmering with excitement. She looks like a little child about to go to the park, and it’s adorable.

“Hey there, friend!” Phil reaches down and pets her nose. She wiggles and nuzzles into his hand, closing her eyes. “You having a nice time here?”

She looks at him and smiles, then continues to nuzzle his hand.

“You making any friends?”

She pauses, and looks to the floor. Then, she slowly shakes her head.

Phil smiles sympathetically. “That’s okay. Neither have I. People are scary sometimes.” He reaches into his pocket, brings out the snack he had prepared for her, then throws it to her in a swift motion. She catches it immediately, then flies around a bit just to warm up for the contest.

Phil chuckles. “You are a cutie.”

Her eyes sparkle in the morning light.

“Are the other dragons treating you well, at least?” Phil asks, reaching for another piece of chicken to throw at her.

She hesitates, but then nods.

“Good. You know if anyone tried to hurt you, they would be getting in big trouble. Philly would not let them live.”

The two exchange a smile. Sometimes, Phil feels as if he is just as small as her. It is only with her that he feels comforted by it.

❖

The rest of the day went by in a blur, but a positive one. Phil decided to not watch Erin hunt, as the hunting could get quite gruesome at times and he was not really in the mood for that kind of thing right now. He also knew he wouldn’t be able to sit still while watching because of the nerves, so he figured it would be better to have a peaceful day at the campgrounds to emotionally prepare himself for the rest of the competition.

He ends up spending some time with Lisa, a blonde girl in his cabin with a heartwarming smile and the calmest voice he has ever heard. The two talk for ages and he finds out she writes too, which is amazing as he hasn’t really found anyone else that does before. She comes from a wealthy family, but an unstable and toxic one according to her; pretty much like all kids from her village. She has also wanted to become a dragon trainer ever since she was little, and has had to hide her dragon at her best friend’s house for years because her family couldn’t know what her true passions were. It’s a sad story, but she says she is happy now, and that she doesn’t really care what her family thinks of her.

The most interesting conversation they had that day happened sometime around evening, just before dinner was about to be served. The two had gone for a little stroll around the camp grounds, watching the sky turn from its normal pastel blue, to a dim quiet orange.

Lisa asked about girls. If there’s any contestant he finds cute, if he had a girlfriend back home. Phil didn’t know how to respond. He did not want her to find out about his secret, that there wouldn’t be any girls in his life. So he just shrugged. “Not really. I guess dating girls just isn’t my thing.” Technically, he did not lie. But oh, how badly he wanted to date someone.

“Oh. Any boyfriends, then?”

Phil stopped. He slowly turned his head to look at her. Her cheeks had gone pink. 

“Sorry, I just thought– Never mind.”

“Um.” Phil’s mind raced a million miles per hour, what should he say, what should he do to make this not as awkward anymore– but like earlier, no words came out.

“Sorry. Really.”

Phil shrugged and smiled at her. “S’ fine.” He poked her in the side and she laughed. He stuck his tongue out. 

The two walked in silence for a bit. The night was lovely, perfect temperature, perfect sky. Almost like a dream.

“You got any girlfriends?” Phil teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

She blushed. That’s … strange. Why would she blush? Phil looked at her, puzzled. “Actually…” Her voice trembled. “Yeah. Well, sort of. It’s complicated.”

She likes girls. Phil felt the world spinning in that moment. He was not the only one out there. He had to physically stop himself from beaming with glee. “What do you mean complicated?” he said, trying to sound interested when in reality all that echoed through his mind was I’m not alone! .

“Well,” Lisa took a deep breath before she continued, “it was kind of back and forth, you know. She didn’t want to admit she liked girls so I was her ‘experiment’, if you will. We broke up completely a few weeks ago. I just couldn’t stand being led on like that all the time.”

Phil nodded. He understood that. He wouldn’t be able to handle that either, to be perfectly honest. “I’m sorry about that. Did you like her?”

Lisa bit her lip. “Yeah. She just … wasn’t ready, I guess.”

The two continued in silence for a bit, a tense but not awkward silence, that stretched throughout the entire campground. And then Phil couldn’t bear to keep it in himself anymore. He told her everything. How he had tried to kiss his best friend on the lips when they were nine and he had been punched in the stomach before being called ‘disgusting’ and ‘weird’. How he wanted to dance with a boy at his school for the spring dance but the rules explicitly said that every boy must be with a girl. How every single day of his life he tries not to look at boys at all because the swirling in his stomach makes him feel sick to the core and how he wishes it would just go away so he could live a normal life.

He blurted out all of it to the girl, and she understood. For the first time in Phil’s whole life, his attraction to boys felt somewhat normal, and he can’t thank her enough for that moment.

Phil spent the whole evening next to Lisa, even holding her hand a few times. Now that he knew she liked girls he felt so much safer around her, not having to worry about giving her mixed signals or even worse, worrying about if she would detect his dirty little secret. She knew, and it wasn’t dirty to her. It was beautiful. And so was she.

A few hours later now, dinner has just ended and every contestant is gathered at the table waiting for the scores to be revealed. Silence falls across the table as two of the committee members stand up. Everyone knows what’s about to happen next. Phil’s stomach twists, and he cannot tell if it is with excitement or fear. Probably a bit of both. He clutches Lisa’s hand, and she clutches his back. Sometimes Phil forgets everyone here is competing with their dragons too.

“Attention, please!” one of the committee members says, whom Phil recognises as Emeline from this morning. She smiles at the table, like she is reassuring them. “As you all know, it is now time to reveal the scores your dragons collected during the day. The hunting points are based on how big animals they hunted were, how much time it took, how difficult it was and how much they were hurt in the process. All dragons that took damage have been healed, so don’t worry.”

Phil almost forgot the animals could fight back. He hopes Erin is okay.

Emeline continues, with a tone just as bright and happy as before. “Your dragons have each received a score based on the hunting points collected. Eleven points go to the dragon with most hunting points, ten to the next one and so on. Don’t worry if your dragon got a low score, there are still two more days with opportunities for your dragon to shine!”

She gestures towards the man beside her, the purple-haired guy from the first night, and he speaks just as calmly as before, once again transfixing Phil so much that he almost forgets what he is about to learn. “Emeline and Gabe are now going to get the scoreboard, which will have your scores written on it,” he says, carefully studying his audience as Emeline and Gabe leave the firepit. Some contestants whisper in the background, at which he shoots an annoyed glare and the two immediately shut up. “Well, there’s not much more to say,” he says as Emeline and Gabe arrive with a big, wooden board with some letters and numbers written in white paint on it. “Show them the scores, guys.”

A hush falls over the assembly as the committee members step away from the scoreboard and everyone takes a look at it; then it is immediately filled with noise. Some yell with excitement, some break down in tears, some sit in their place shaking, unable to process the information they had just received. Phil, however, is just lost for words.

Fourth place. That is eight points.

He wants to yell. He wants to scream at the top of his lungs, ‘We did it!’  like it was a bloody war victory or something, like everything in his life had depended on this moment and he succeeded with ease. Erin did it. She actually got one of the top scores in the entire group and Phil is so immensely proud of her. His previously icy expression finally warming up as a lighthearted smile draws itself on his lips. Ida’s recovery was one step closer.

He grabs Lisa’s hands, whose dragon came in fifth, and they dance around together, laughing, smiling, hugging each other close. She looks even more gorgeous when she’s happy, like smiling was made just for her.

“I can’t believe we both got such high scores!” She wipes her eyes, and Phil notices the glimmering trail of wetness under them. “We did so well, Phil!”

“We did!” Phil smiles widely, and then he takes a look at the other names on the scoreboard and his smile fades.

Because guess who came in bloody second?

He searches for his rival, who seems to just have had the same realisation as Phil when they lock eyes. His annoyingly loud self-confidence is so prominent it hurts Phil’s brain. It’s like he doesn’t even have any self awareness or something, like he doesn’t know what he is doing and how much more everyone would like him if he could just shut up . Okay, maybe not literally but Phil really is sick of his attitude. Maybe someone out there would find it charming and attractive, but certainly not Phil. Certainly not.

Contestants are told they’re free to leave and do whatever they want and Phil stands up immediately, because if he has to spend another second ten feet away from Dan, he might just explode.

When Dan pokes him in the side and sticks his tongue out at him, as if to humiliate him even further, he’s only a second away from doing so, but he restraints himself and leaves, ignoring Dan completely on the way out.