Becoming Jo

by Sophie MacKenzie

  I guess we’re just going to have to agree to disagree.

  We fall into our natural pairings as we wander around the Rocks, looking for the best place to set up our picnic. Meg chatters away with Amy, whose face is half-covered by a huge floppy hat. I can hear Amy moaning about how her bag is weighed down with the big bottle of sun lotion which Aunt Em insisted we bring. Beth pads along, silently, beside me. She’s carrying the picnic rug, while I’ve got our towels and my book. Not that I think there’ll be much time for reading. Lateef, Tiny and four or five others, including Tiny’s cousins Aidan and Frankie, don’t look like they plan on sitting around for long. As well as their own food and drink they have two footballs and a selection of Frisbees. Nobody – other than me – seems keen to swim. I can’t wait. I love the sea, the exhilaration of being in the open water and the feel of the waves on my face. Plus, inspiration might strike while I’m in the water; maybe, finally, I’ll get an idea for my story.

  We soon find the perfect place to make camp: a small stretch of sand with two cliffs on either side, one of which slopes down to the beach in a series of stones, making the whole cliff look like a face with one half collapsed. There are two other groups here – a small knot of twenty-somethings and a larger group of mums and kids – but it’s much less crowded than the properly public areas.

  Beth and I lay out the picnic rug in the shade of an overhanging rock face. The beach here is pebble-strewn sand, with a large outcrop of grey rock, for which Beth instantly makes a beeline. I follow her and slip out of my shorts and T-shirt – I’m already wearing my swimsuit underneath. I wind my long hair into a knot and tie it back off my face with a band, then I inch myself into the water. I yelp as I wade in. It’s cold, despite the hot sun, and I don’t stay in long. Just a couple of lengths up and down the rocks, feeling the saltwater splash against my face (nice) and something slimy slither against my bare legs (not so nice). Beth watches me from her perch on the rocks.

  “Don’t fancy it, Bethy?” I ask as I emerge, shivering.

  She hands me a towel and shakes her head. “No thanks. Actually I’ve got a bit of a sore throat,” she says.

  “Oh no.” I stare at her, concerned. Unlike Amy who lets us all know, loudly, whenever she’s not well, Beth never complains about anything. She does look pale, actually. “Can I get you anything?”

  “No thanks.” She lies back on the rock, her face tipped to the sun. “I’m just going to sit here quietly for a bit.”

  I lie beside her, letting the heat dry my skin, my lips tasting the salt from the seawater. After fifteen minutes or so it’s too hot to be in direct sunlight and we shift across to a shady patch of rock. I put my T-shirt on then and glance over at the beach. Lateef, Meg, Tiny and Aidan are playing football with two girls from school and two boys I don’t know. The remaining girl – Aidan’s sister Frankie – is huddled against the rocks on our rug. Next to her Amy is lying stretched out, her big hat covering her face.

  A cheer goes up from some of the footballers. Lateef looks up and waves me over.

  “Come on, Jo!” he calls. “Beth!”

  I turn to Beth. “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  “Better,” she says. “But I think I’ll sit here a bit longer. You go and join the others.”

  I look at her carefully. I’m not sure I believe she really does feel better. Her cheeks are still very pale considering how hot it is.

  “OK,” I say, tugging on my shorts. “But come and get me if you feel worse. We can go straight home whenever you like.”

  “Thanks, Jo.” Beth smiles at me, then leans against her rock again and closes her eyes.

  I grab my towel and make my way back to the beach. My trainers catch on a sharp bit of rock as I pass, nearly tripping me and ripping the front binding from the shoe. I swear under my breath as I flap the rest of the way.

  By the time I’ve made my way back to the others, the football game is over and the rug is pretty crowded. As I arrive a small group heads off for ice cream, leaving behind just my sisters, Lateef, Tiny and his cousins. The boy cousin, Aidan, is sitting very close to Meg, I notice. He’s as tall as Tiny but ten times better looking with dark curly hair and a very cheeky grin. The two of them are whispering and giggling like they’re the only ones on the beach.

  “Did you go swimming in the sea?” Frankie asks as I flop down on the edge of the rug. She sounds shocked, her brown eyes wide like chocolate buttons.

  “’Course she did,” Lateef says, a note of pride in his voice. “Jo March likes an adventure.”

  I roll my eyes at him, tugging the band from my hair so it falls, damp and salty, down my back. Lateef watches me, his eyes lingering on my hair as I shake it free.

  “What are you guys doing?” I ask.

  “We were just about to play ‘Truth’,” Frankie says. “You know it? Whoever’s name gets drawn out of a hat has to answer one question from each of the others as truthfully as they can.”

  “Oh yeah, we play that at home,” I say. “Let’s use Amy’s hat.”

  “Count me out,” Aidan says with a grimace. “Sounds dangerous.” He glances sideways at Meg. “Fancy a walk, Meg?”

  “OK.” Meg leaps up.

  “Why my hat?” Amy grumbles.

  “It means you’re in charge of the game, Amy,” Lateef says.

  Amy looks slightly mollified. Meg and Aidan saunter away along the beach, Aidan laughing – too loudly – at something Meg has said. I notice Lateef looking after them with an amused expression. He catches my eye and winks.

  “Everyone ready?” Tiny asks.

  “Sure,” Lateef says, rubbing his hands with relish.

  “I guess,” Frankie agrees. “Though we don’t have a pen and paper to write down our names.”

  “Give me your phones, then,” Amy says, holding out her hat.

  “You have to cover your eyes when you pick them out,” I warn. “No peeking.”

  “Whatever,” Amy says.

  Lateef, Tiny, Frankie and I each put our mobile phone inside Amy’s huge hat. We form a loose circle. I sit between Lateef and Tiny with Frankie on Tiny’s other side and Amy next to Lateef.

  “Let’s go,” Lateef urges.

  Amy ostentatiously covers her eyes with her hand and fishes in the hat. I’m almost certain she’s sneaking a look. She draws out Lateef’s shiny black iPhone.

  “Jeez,” Lateef groans, though he doesn’t really look as though he minds.

  “Me first,” I say. “Who do you admire most in the world?”

  “Uncle Jim,” Lateef says straightaway. “He’s been through so much and even though he doesn’t always show it, he’s kind. And my dad and … and my whole family from home.”

  “Who do you think is the prettiest person on this picnic?” Tiny asks with a low chuckle.

  “Meg,” Lateef says decisively.

  I follow his gaze across the beach. Meg and Aidan are just visible in the distance. He’s right – with her big, blue eyes, long lashes and golden waves, Meg is easily the prettiest girl here.

  “OK, but who do you like best?” Frankie asks with a sly grin.

  “Jo, of course.” Lateef’s cheeks colour slightly as Tiny pokes him in the chest. “Pick again, Amy.”

  Amy rummages among the three remaining phones. She draws out mine.

  “Ha!” she says. “Jo!”

  I glance around the group. Lateef, Tiny and Frankie are all smiling, clearly enjoying themselves. I suddenly feel nervous about what they might ask me.

  “What is your greatest fault?” Tiny leaps in.

  “That’s easy,” I say, relieved at the question. “I’m too impatient, too impulsive. I say things too fast and I’m clumsy.”

  “True,” Lateef says with feeling. “I’ll go.” He hesitates, his face flushing slightly again. “What do you want most in the world?”

  I stare at him. His eyes are dancing, but there’s a seriousness in them too, like he really wants to know the answer.

  Surely he
already knows what I want? I’ve talked often enough about my dream of being published and how I’m hoping writing my new, serious story for Teen Spiral will help me on my way. I glance at Frankie. For some reason, I don’t want to share my dearest ambitions with her.

  “Come on, Jo,” Amy says impatiently.

  “Well, obviously I want to travel, go on adventures abroad…” I stare down at the ripped sole of my trainers, then dig my heels into the rug. “But mostly I’d like a new pair of canvas flats.”

  Tiny and Frankie groan.

  “That’s not a true answer,” Lateef says earnestly. “You have to say what you really do want most.”

  I look up at him, irritated that he’s pushing me to answer when he must know I’d rather not reveal my innermost dreams. “Why? There’s nothing you can do about it,” I snap. I guess I sound harsher than I mean to because a look of disappointment crosses Lateef’s face. I flush with shame, annoyed with myself for upsetting him. Tiny roars with laughter.

  Frankie raises her eyebrows, gazing from me to Lateef. “OK, what things do you most admire in a man?” she asks.

  “Courage,” I say. “And honesty.”

  Frankie has her turn next, but her answers are boring and by the time Tiny has had a go too the fun feels like it’s gone out of the game. Lateef, Frankie and Tiny take a Frisbee on to the beach while Amy stretches out on the rug and places her hat over her face again.

  I go and check on Beth. She’s still not feeling great, so I offer to go home with her.

  “Don’t you want to stay longer?” she asks.

  I glance across the beach to where Lateef is leaping to catch the Frisbee. He hasn’t looked at me since I snapped at him. In the distance, Meg and Aidan are tiny figures on the sand. I can’t be sure from here, but I think Aidan has his arm around her.

  “I’m ready to go,” I say. I feel cold, suddenly, despite the sun. “Whenever you are.”

  “OK,” Beth says, standing up. “Let’s go home.”

  Chapter 6

  As soon as we’re home Beth goes to her room to lie down and I sit in front of my laptop and try to work properly on a story for Teen Spiral. What I want to write is a version of the shipwreck story I started imagining after the book signing back in January: it opens with Tallulah walking on the beach and finding a shipwrecked sailor who has lost his memory. He turns out to be a dangerous smuggler.

  I love this idea. However, I’m also aware it’s exactly the kind of thing Marianne doesn’t want.

  After a couple of hours getting nowhere I check on Beth. She is fast asleep, her cheeks now flushed. I lay my hand on her forehand and it feels hot and damp. She stirs in her sleep. “Thirsty,” she murmurs.

  I go down into the kitchen to get her a glass of water and find Meg and Aunt Em in the middle of a row. It turns out that Meg wants to go out later with Aidan and some of his friends.

  “That’s out of the question, Margaret,” Aunt Em says with an imperious wave of her hand.

  “What?” Meg demands, her cheeks flushing. “Why?”

  “Because I have a cocktail party and Amy and Elizabeth are too young to be left all evening on their own, especially with Elizabeth feeling unwell.”

  “I’ll be here,” I point out. “So it’s no problem if Meg isn’t.”

  “Mmm.” Aunt Em presses her lips together. “Well I’m afraid that doesn’t inspire me with confidence, Josephine. You’re hardly the most reliable—”

  “Actually, I’m going to Katy’s for a sleepover,” Amy announces, looking up from her drawing.

  “If Amy’s out and—” Meg starts.

  “Elizabeth will be still be here,” Aunt Em says briskly. “So I’d be happier if you stayed, Margaret.”

  Her mobile rings and she answers it with a curt: “Emmeline speaking.”

  Meg turns away. A tiny muscle throbs at her temple. I grab her arm and whisper in her ear:

  “It’s OK, just say you’ll stay, then leave once Aunt Em has gone.”

  Meg’s eyes sparkle. It’s not like her to be rebellious, but clearly living with Aunt Em is taking its toll. She nods, as Aunt Em barks into her phone: “Well it needs to be done by Tuesday latest.” She tuts as she ends the call, then looks up at Meg, her eyes full of irritation.

  “Do we have an agreement, Margaret?” she asks.

  “Of course, Aunt Em,” Meg says, turning away so that Aunt Em can’t see the smile that twitches at her lips.

  “Good. Now go and see if Elizabeth is feeling better. And, Josephine, I’d like you and Amy to look for my pearl bracelet: the seed pearls with the platinum clasp. It’s somewhere in that wretched broken drawer in your parents room. I couldn’t see it, but maybe your young eyes will do better. Oh, and I’d be grateful if you’d fetch me my chartreuse silk shirt while you’re there, please.”

  Amy and I troop upstairs. Amy checks for the bracelet while I search Aunt Em’s wardrobe for the blouse she wants. After a couple of minutes, Amy holds up the delicate string of seed pearls with a triumphant grin.

  “Good for you,” I grumble. “I can’t find that stupid shirt anywhere.”

  “For goodness’ sake.” Rolling her eyes, Amy goes straight to the right hand section of the wardrobe and carefully draws out a pale green blouse.

  “I would have found it eventually,” I say with a shrug.

  “Like you know what chartreuse is,” Amy says with a smug sniff.

  Aunt Em checks on Beth before she leaves.

  “Beth’s still sleeping,” she tells Meg as she puts on her coat in the hallway. “Which is probably the best thing for her. But do make sure she eats something when she wakes up – and there are painkillers in the bathroom cabinet.”

  “Yes, Aunt Em,” Meg says obediently.

  “I’ll have my phone on me – call if she’s at all worse, or you’re worried.”

  “Of course, Aunt Em,” Meg says. “Er, I was thinking I’d do some clearing up downstairs, then make some dinner.”

  She sounds suspiciously eager to please, but Aunt Em doesn’t pick up on it. As soon as Aunt Em and Amy have gone out, Meg hurries back upstairs and starts rummaging in our wardrobe.

  “You’re meeting Aidan?” I ask with a grimace. I don’t mind Meg going out at all, but I do wonder why she wants to hang out with the stupid boy from the picnic. “Are you and him, er, going out together now?”

  “No way.” Meg giggles. “It’s just a laugh.”

  I shake my head. How can she imagine spending time with Aiden will be in any way fun?

  Half an hour later, Meg leaves in a clatter of high heels. She’s wearing tight jeans and bright red lipstick too. Mum and Dad would definitely not approve.

  I eat some pasta and stare at my blank screen for a while. Then I go to check on Beth again. Surely she can’t still be asleep?

  She is. I make my way over to the bed where she is lying half in and half out of the covers. Outside the sun is hidden behind the trees, the heat of the day starting to ease and the birds singing like mad even through the closed window. I gaze down at Beth. Her colour is still high, a feverish sheen on her forehead. There is something odd about her breathing. It’s fast and shallow and raspy.

  I pull the covers over her exposed arm. Beth moans gently. I put my hand on her forehead. I gasp. She’s burning up.

  Something is very wrong.

  “Beth?” I flood with fear. “Beth?”

  I shake my sister’s shoulders, desperate for her to open her eyes. But she just lies there, her head lolling back. I fumble for my phone. I need to ring Aunt Em.

  With a jerk, Beth starts shaking. Juddering. Her whole body convulses. I stare down in panic.

  “Beth!” I cry.

  Fear clutches at my throat. Is she having a fit? A seizure?

  For a moment the terror and the uncertainty overwhelm me. And then I grab my phone. Never mind calling Aunt Em. We’re way past that.

  What my sister needs is an ambulance.

  I punch in the emergency numbers, so
well drilled into all of us. It feels both strange and familiar to be dialing them.

  999.

  A voice answers. My head is racing too fast to hear properly what it says. Beth is still convulsing on the bed, though her movements are slowing, the jerks less spasmodic.

  “It’s my sister,” I cut in over the calm tones of the operator. “My sister needs help. Please. Help. Now.”

  Chapter 7

  The paramedics arrive within minutes, although it feels like hours, and are brilliant and reassuring. Beth isn’t fitting any more, thank goodness, though her body is still burning hot and her breath shallow. Most upsetting of all, she hasn’t yet opened her eyes.

  I watch, trembling, as the paramedics lift her on to a trolley with gentle, expert hands and carry her downstairs, asking me questions as they go.

  “How old is your sister? What’s her name? How long was she asleep before the fit? What symptoms did she complain of earlier? Where are your parents?”

  I answer as best I can, my head spinning.

  “We all checked in on her,” I tell them. “None of us realized how ill she was.” Guilt overwhelms me. Beth never complains; I should have known this was serious. “Why was she shaking like that? Is she going to be OK?”

  “It could just be a reaction to her high temperature,” the young male paramedic says with a gap-toothed smile. “And her vitals are all fine; try not to worry.”

  “Yeah, we need to get some fluids into her, do a few tests, then we’ll know a bit more.” His older colleague pats my shoulder. “You can come with us to the hospital. We’ll call your aunt on the way.”

  And so, for the first time in my life, I find myself sitting wedged in the corner of an ambulance as it hurtles along, while Beth lies silently beside me, hooked up to a drip like we’re in a hospital drama on TV. Except this isn’t a TV drama. This is real life and it’s awful. I call Meg and Aunt Em, and they both say they’re coming immediately.

  As soon as we reach the hospital Beth is taken into a cubicle. Nurses work efficiently over her while I stand to one side.