Closed This Is Fine. Probably.

[Alfred Gorbach]

Who would’ve thought a relatively small, square hay bale could be so ridiculously heavy?
Well, not Alfred.
So here he was, somewhere around hour fifteen (fine, half an hour tops), dragging and shoving this cursed thing through the woods. An audiobook was about the only thing stopping him from losing it completely. An audiobook he definitely shouldn’t be listening to, according to his aunt anyway. Apparently the themes, the violence, and whatnot were not good for him, but then again, neither was sudden parental abandonment, relocation to the other side of the planet, and discovering magic was real. So really, what’s one more item on the Not good for Alfred list? At least this one he chose.
Besides, the great thing about audiobooks was that Amelia couldn’t actually see what he was listening to and he always made sure to switch to Spotify whenever she came dangerously close. And his attention span of a goldfish prevented him from reading any physical books anyway, so what’s the harm really?

The location was solid. A tucked away dip in the forest, relatively close to Amelia’s house. He’d scouted it already. Even missed shots probably wouldn’t wander off too far (not that he missed, but still, things happened and accidentally shooting someone or something was the last thing he needed on his Bingo card). Better safe than accidentally criminal.

His first attempt at a target set up was a pile of cardboard boxes, stuffed with bits of foam, duct taped together with three rolls. Didn’t save the arrow tips, might as well have shot straight into the tree trunks, but this one should be halfway decent. That’s if he could get it there.
Sure, he could have used a wheelbarrow. That thought did occur to him. Along with other, probably smarter options, but sitting down and thinking three steps ahead just wasn’t in the cards today. Or this month. Or like ever since that letter came.

He stopped and sighed. His mind had drifted at the thought of the letter, and now he had no clue what was happening in the story. He pulled out his phone and tapped the rewind-30-seconds button a couple of times and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Up ahead, if you knew where to look, the target face he had lifted / borrowed / liberated / recycled from the last local youth archery competition was just barely visible.
He could have asked. They probably would’ve given it to him. But they also would’ve asked questions. Like – why? And he wasn’t good at lying.
Didn’t want to lie, really.
And technically, shooting arrows alone in the woods, especially not on private property was very much against the rules. Like, capital letter illegal. But so was setting the world on fire while screaming until your voice went hoarse, which was something Alfred actually wanted to do, so again, we’re just picking our battles.

 

[Auden Sheldrake]

Dad lied. It was nothing like home.

Auden crunched through the woods, using his stick as a makeshift cane. It was okay. The beaches were better than the pebbly ones at home, and the mountains were - well, he had to say they were awesome, didn't he? They were. It was just... he wasn't ever gonna get to go up them. Dad was too busy all the time and Mum wasn't really a walking-up-mountains person. Levi would've taken him. But if Levi were here, they'd still be in London, so technically there wouldn't have been any mountains to go up anyway.

Or woods to walk in. The boy stopped and looked back the way he'd come. He'd walked in a straight line. He should've been home by now, but he hadn't even seen the big rock that looked like a toe, or the massive hollow tree. Why didn't he see them? Did he walk past them? Or was he lost?

The birds were making a racket. Auden shouted at them, which just made them sing louder. He couldn't even hear himself think. If he was lost - which he wasn't - but if he was, then what was he supposed to do? He hated orienteering. Didn't you need a compass for that, anyway? Auden didn't have a compass, or a map, and he couldn't remember if the sun set in the east or west. Godsake. Why didn't he pay attention in school? He should have known that stuff.

He'd just have to keep walking. He had loads of time to find the road. It wasn't getting dark... yet. Besides, Mum would worry if he wasn't home for dinner. She'd send someone out to find him. She would. Right?

Crap. He'd definitely never seen those rocks before. How was it he could get from one side of London to the other all by himself, but he couldn't get out of a forest? He'd walked in a straight line!

What was that red-and-yellow thing? Auden crab-walked down the steep dip, hooked his arm around a tree, and hopped to the spongy ground. Was that an archery target? He circled around it, hitting the legs lightly with his stick. Why would someone just leave it here? Was there an archery club nearby? Yes! Maybe he could find someone to take him home.​

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

He turned the volume up, loud enough to compete with his thoughts if not drown them out completely and then shoved the phone back into his pocket. There was something grounding about having someone shout a dramatic story directly into your head, making you focus on the thing you had to do and not dwell and brood over how much you hated absolutely everything that had led to this moment.
In hindsight, yeah, maybe it would’ve made sense to keep at least one ear open while dragging this thing through the woods. You know, to hear if anything or anyone was coming. At home, his real home, not this warm and fuzzy PG-rated forest, he’d be pulling this over snow on a sledge, watching for bears, wolves, moose, maybe a snake or two. Okay, maybe not this time of the year, but still. And that was just the stuff with teeth.

Sharp pang hit his chest. He tried to ignore it. This place was objectively beautiful. It would’ve been perfect if he had come here on a trip with two loving parents who still thought he was amazing, and, and.. with grandparents waiting at home with some boiled potatoes, pickled herring, and…
His nose prickled. He forced himself to focus on the story. It didn’t matter that he’d zoned out and would probably have to re-listen to the entire chapter. The point was to bottle up emotions, set up a proper target and then go from there. One step at a time.

And yet nobody was here. That was the second point. Probably the only good thing to come out of this whole ridiculous ordeal. He’d found a place no one else seemed to care about. A tucked away corner that felt like belonged to him and no one else.
It was his.
His.
(It was still very much public property, but semantics).
And that would have to be enough for now.

It was that strong conviction of being utterly alone plus the headphones that made it feel like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him when he finally reached the edge of the dip, ready to slide the bale down and call this first part of the mission a success.
Whoever was down there was in the wrong place at the wrong time and Alfred was one barely contained spiral away from making that their problem.
“Are you blind or just really bad at self preservation?” He yanked out one earbud.
An overreaction really, but he was startled. And angry. And sad. And a whole bunch of other feelings he didn’t have names for.
Not that this was the time for self reflection.​

 

[Auden Sheldrake]

Auden jumped. Oh, thank God. See? He wasn’t lost - he was exploring, and now, because he’d kept going, he’d found an archery club. That was what happened to people who didn’t sit around crying: they found cool stuff. Home probably wasn’t even that far. He’d been scared for no reason.

He looked under his armpit. Standing in front of a target. Right. That was braindead. He could have got shot, and he didn’t really want to die - he was about to get his Hogwarts letter. The boy didn’t have to have a go at him, though. Nothing actually happened.

“Ooh,” said Auden, waving his stick. “Self-preservation. That’s a big word. Did your mummy teach you?” He stood right in front of the target now, spreading his arms out wide. “Can’t shoot. Can’t shoot me. What are you gonna do?”​

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

“F*** you!” Alfred said before he thought better of it. Mom was a soft spot. His parents were a soft spot. Honestly, there were a lot of soft spots in Alfred’s wiring right now, so landing a hit didn’t exactly take surgical precision.

But he couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his mouth. This was probably the first time since arriving that someone actually talked back. His aunt tiptoed around him like he might shatter. Ignoring half the things she should probably call him out on and pretending not to notice the other half, but look at this one kid miracle show.

“I’ll tell you what you’re gonna do,” he said, jerking his head toward the hay bale. “You’re gonna help me get that thing down there,” he pointed to the target face, “and then maybe I won’t shoot you. How’s that sound?”​

 

[Auden Sheldrake]

Oooh, he swore. Auden grinned back. Nice. He liked when people could take a joke. Not like Ty and Brendan. Crybabies. He looked up at the hay bale, then at the target, and then down at himself - hands on his tummy, like he was really thinking the offer through. Getting shot would be very inconvenient. He was wearing his favourite football shirt.

“Sounds quite good, actually,” he said, beaming. Aaaaand… march! Auden swung his arms as he headed up the slope. Half way up, he turned around and started walking backwards. “Why do you need a hay bale?” And where were all the other people? The rest of the archery club? Auden didn’t see anyone.​

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

“Hm.” He grunted in approval. He crouched down to line up the bale. Technically, sure, he could have just rolled it down, but after a few rounds of shooting, the thing would start falling apart anyway. No point speeding up the wear and tear.

Then came the question.

“To shoot something that’s actually meant to be shot. What’d you think?” He smirked, then pretended to suddenly remember something. “Ah, the bonfire? Yeah, the witch burning was yesterday. You missed it. Shame. We had snacks.”

Chapter thirty-four was announced in his ear through the remaining earbud. He casually pulled out his phone, stopped the audiobook, and tucked both earbuds away.
This was a perfectly normal conversation in a perfectly normal place that totally wasn’t his hidden, very illegal spot. This was fine.
This was fiiine.

 

[Auden Sheldrake]

"Thought it was a chair. Somewhere to park your bum," said Auden, as he helped lift the bale. It was heavy, and he still didn't get why the boy needed it when he had a target over there, but, well, he was the expert, probably. The only thing Auden knew about archery was that the thing you put your arrows in was called a quaver.

Witches? Ha - he didn't know. Auden knew something he didn't. Witches were real. "I had snacks too," he said, balancing the bale on his knee while he got a better grip. "I had coke, and chocolate, and pizza." None of that was true, but maybe, if he kept going, he could make the boy jealous. "And I stayed up until two in the morning watching Saw. That's an eighteen. What's your name? I'm Auden."​

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

“You mean your mom’s?” That came out faster than he’d intended.
“One, two a.m. is for amateurs. I set my own bedtime.” He tried not to sound impressed. The kid was probably lying, but still, watching Saw? His aunt wouldn’t even let him listen to gory audiobooks.
“And two, my name’s classified. Security reasons. You understand.”
He huffed, nearly tripping over his own foot.
“There’s a piece of cardboard behind the target. I’ll let you keep it as a souvenir once we replace it with this,” he added, giving the bale a dramatic little shove... which promptly shoved back.
Alfred stumbled, dropped his end of the bale, caught himself on the target frame, and stood there like nothing happened. “That was a tactical maneuver,” he muttered. “Advanced stuff.”​

 

[Auden Sheldrake]

Auden snorted. "Me mum's bum?" That was a funny thing to say. "She's at home. I'm on my own. Exploring." She'd definitely be worried about him now. If she'd noticed he was gone, anyway. Sometimes, she got really into her phone, and didn't look up for hours. See? This was why she should get him a phone. He could have texted her to come and get him. Which he didn't need to, because he wasn't lost, and besides, he had a friend now, but still. She should get him one.

What? The boy didn't even have a bedtime? Auden's bedtime was nine o'clock, actually. He was allowed to stay up 'til ten, but only if he was reading. "That's a funny name, Classified. Nice to meet you, Classified. Can I call you Fi? Okay, Fi it is." He said all this without waiting for an answer. The bale slipped out of his hands as Fi dropped his end, and Auden stepped back, brushing his hands. "Was it? Looked like you just fell over." He looked down at the bale. It couldn't be that hard, shooting a bow. Soggy bit of cardboard? Fi could keep that. Auden wanted a proper souvenir. "Can I have a go?"​

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

“Fi…” Alfred repeated flatly. “Sure. You seem like a trustworthy namer of people. Let’s go with Fi.” He actually half smiled. At least one person wasn’t trying to fight him over his name, and for some reason that felt… weirdly comfortable. “Wanna be Red? For Redacted?”

He didn’t dignify the comment about falling with a reply. Instead, he pulled the target face down, stripped away the perforated cardboard, and heaved the bale upright.

Then he glanced over his shoulder, voice dropping to a low, wary tone. “You a snitch, Red?” Not that he’d ever met a person in the whole universe who’d say, Yes, as a matter of fact I am. Please don’t tell me your deep, dark secrets. But still. You had to ask.​

 

[Auden Sheldrake]

Auden beamed. He was trustworthy. An all-round trustworthy boy and great person, actually. Maybe Fi could talk to his mum, convince her to buy him a phone. “Sure. Red and Fi,” he said. He didn’t know what redacted meant, but Red was a cool nickname, so he wasn’t going to ask.

His smile morphed into a look of surprise. Auden? A snitch? Oh, yes. Absolutely. There was that time he snitched on Lucy for breaking Silas’s pencil sharpener. And the time he snitched on Ty for copying someone’s homework. And his favourite snitch of all time - the one where he convinced Keeley to feed carrot cake to the class hamster and then snitched on her straight after.

“Me?” he said. “Of course not.”​

 

[Alfred Gorbach]

He wasn’t. Or so he said he wasn’t, not that Alfred expected a different answer. “Well, you better not be, ‘cause you know what they say, snitches get stitches,” He didn’t know if anyone actually said that, but it was one of those fancy lines he’d heard in some TV show.

“And I don’t mean to brag, but my pops is the best in his field,” he waved a hand toward the target, “and my nan’s like the best at hunting and I’m…“ he dramatically jabbed a finger into his chest, “…the best of both worlds, Red. So you better not be running your mouth.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Swear it! Cross your heart and, and… stick a needle!” He tried to remember that dead serious oath L had sworn to him, the one that felt like it carried weight. But later, when he was thinking about it, he still couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it meant or where the needle went.​