Nanna looks down. She’s wearing a T-shirt that says ‘I Pooped Today!’ with a happy-looking stick man punching the air. I’m fairly certain Pearl does not love the T-shirt. I’d say she hates it.
‘You can have it.’ Nanna pulls the T-shirt over her head, carefully folds it and passes it to Pearl. Thankfully, she’s wearing a vest underneath. A vest that has a six pack printed on it.
Pearl holds the T-shirt and stares at Nanna, amazed. ‘Cheers,’ she says uncertainly, and then she smiles. It’s over very quickly, but it was definitely a smile.
Leo and Peeta don’t come to the disco. All evening, I look out for them, dreading the moment that they turn up, but they never show. My mind keeps torturing me with images of them alone together at Leo’s tent, watching the sunset and eating Plopp. After Nanna has tried and failed to teach Pearl to play chess (Pearl throws Nanna’s queen into the sea), we’ve danced to ABBA and Pearl has stolen an ashtray, I take her back to the cabin to meet Frida.
‘Hej,’ says Frida as I open the door. She doesn’t look up from the book she’s reading.
‘Look who’s here,’ I say, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. Frida peers over the top of her reading specs and I push Pearl forward. ‘This is Pearl.’
It’s fair to say that Pearl doesn’t always make a good first impression on adults. She scowls at Frida through her messy hair. ‘Alright,’ she says. Then, nervously, she reaches into her bag, pulls out a cigarette and shoves it in her mouth. Immediately, she takes it out and fiddles with it. Shreds of tobacco fall to the floor.
Frida puts down her book and gets to her feet. She opens her arms wide. ‘Welcome, Pearl,’ she says, then she wraps Pearl in an enormous hug. Pearl stands stiff and rigid, but this doesn’t put Frida off. That hug goes on and on. If anything, Pearl’s total stiffness encourages Frida to put more and more into the hug.
Eventually, Frida steps back and looks at Pearl, head tilted to one side. ‘Your name suits you,’ she says. ‘Would you like some miso soup?’ Pearl shudders and shakes her head. ‘OK. Well, I’m going to listen to the sea.’ She grabs a jumper off the back of a chair and drifts out of the cabin.
Pearl stares after her. ‘She is …’
‘Weird?’ I suggest. To Pearl, ninety-nine per cent of the human race is weird.
‘Yeah. Now, where am I sleeping?’
*
She is not impressed with the sleeping arrangements.
‘I’m sleeping in that,’ – she kicks the mattress with her toe – ‘with you?’
‘You can pick your side.’
‘That one,’ she says, nodding at the half of the mattress not squished under the eaves. ‘God, it’s small up here and so hot.’ She looks at me with wild eyes. ‘Just being up here makes me want to hit something!’ To avoid being hit, I let her smoke a cigarette leaning out of the attic window. This calms her down and then she starts to construct a wall along the middle of the mattress using my clothes and underwear.
‘Pass me that vest,’ she says. She tucks it in a gap then sits back to check out her work. ‘Nice.’ She nods her head. ‘Right. I’m tired. Let’s go to bed. I didn’t go home last night and I only slept for an hour on the plane.’
‘What?’ I crawl into my side of the bed, taking care not to knock down Pearl’s wall of pants.
She turns off the light, flops back on her pillow and puts her arms behind her head. She stares out of the window. ‘My brother locked me out, again, so I just wandered around until morning when Mum got back from her boyfriend’s house. I hate him. He’s an idiot.’
‘Your mum’s boyfriend.’
‘No, Alfie. But I do hate Mum’s boyfriend.’
‘Did your mum mind you coming here?’
‘Nah,’ she says, sitting up to open the window. ‘She’s just happy I’m not at home fighting with Alfie. She said I could stay as long as I liked.’ Pearl rummages in her bag. ‘I need to text Tiann and find out if Oy is OK.’ I watch as she turns on her phone, but I don’t say anything. ‘No reception,’ she says. She sticks her phone out of the window. ‘Nothing. Where can I get reception?’
‘Oh, there is a place … I’ll take you there tomorrow.’
‘Sweet. Alright.’ She settles back on her pillows. ‘Goodnight, loser.’
‘Goodnight, Pearl.’ Suddenly, she sits bolt upright. ‘What now?’ I ask.
‘Those stars are too bright!’
I roll over as she drapes one of my dresses across the window to make a curtain. ‘You’re the only person I know who doesn’t like stars,’ I say.
‘Shut up, star-lover,’ she mumbles. And those are the last words she says to me before she falls asleep.
I lie in the stuffy attic room, Pearl snoring quietly next to me. Even though the room’s not big enough for two, and there’s a good chance Pearl will upset every single person on Stråla, I’m still happy she’s here. She makes me feel stronger. I glance over the wall of vests. Pearl is sprawled across the mattress, arms flung above her head.
Even when she’s asleep, she looks like she wants a fight.
FIFTEEN
‘Beautiful!’ Pearl says. We’re sitting on the beach looking at Reception Rock and it’s another perfect summer’s day. The sea is emerald green, the colour lightening towards the horizon, and the sun is warm on our shoulders. Pearl sucks on her cigarette and sighs happily. ‘Gorgeous,’ she says. It’s her first cigarette of the day and she’s enjoying it. It’s also the last one in her pack.
After we’ve swum to the rock, we’re going to the shop to buy her cigarettes. You have to be eighteen to buy them in Sweden, but she’s confident this won’t be a problem. This is one shopping trip I am not looking forward to. As Pearl smokes the cigarette, her jittery body calms down. ‘Are you sure about this?’ I ask. Pearl insists that she can swim out to the rock and that she’s ‘a freakin’ amazing swimmer’.
‘Check out these guns,’ she says, flexing her muscles.
‘Where did they come from?’ I ask. They are quite impressive.
‘Me and Tiann have been going to the gym. Levi always lets us in for free.’ She shakes her head. ‘More Sellotape,’ she demands. I add another strip to her phone nest. ‘Right. Let’s go.’ She stubs out her cigarette and eases herself into the sea. ‘C’mon.’
And that’s how I find myself swimming in the Baltic with Pearl. I wouldn’t say she’s freakin’ amazing, but I’m not worried about her drowning. She has absolutely no technique, but she’s strong and soon we’re hauling ourselves on to Reception Rock and Pearl is swearing about all the poo that’s stuck to her knees. Sitting side by side, we turn on our phones. ‘This had better work,’ she says, ‘or I’m going home.’
‘You can always write a letter to Tiann.’
‘By then Oy would be dead.’
She frowns at her screen. Nothing. I’ve got no reception either. Come on, rock, I think. Work your magic.
‘So why’s Oy such a special fish?’
Pearl sighs. ‘I’ve already told you. He’s a clownfish.’
‘You could buy another.’
‘He’s not a goldfish, Kat. Clownfish live in a saltwater aquarium. Mine is a hundred and thirty litres.’ I look at her blankly. ‘It’s huge. And it’s full of living coral and I have tangs, dottybacks, dwarf angels.’ As Pearl describes her tank, she loses her scowl and she starts waving her hands around. ‘Oy is the best thing in that tank.’
‘Is he the most expensive?’
‘That’s not it.’ She kicks her feet in the water. ‘I wish I had a fag,’ she mutters. ‘It’s just that one of Mum’s old boyfriends, Jon, gave me the tank.’ She holds her phone over her head and waves it around. ‘Anyway, the tank is in my room and the door’s locked. Tiann has the key and is going to go round when Mum’s at home to look after my fish. I’m paying her.’
I’m not that surprised Pearl hasn’t told me about Oy or her other fish. Pearl has a lot of secrets. ‘Why can’t your mum or brother do it?’
‘Mum wou
ld forget and Alfie would let them die. He’d probably poison them.’
We stare at our phones in silence. Suddenly, they start buzzing and vibrating. Two, then three bars of reception appear! Pearl screams, making a flock of seagulls take to the sky, and then we bend our heads over our phones and get to work. I’ve got twenty-six texts, but it’s an email from Mum that I read first.
Hello Darling!
How are you? I hope you get this. Stråla’s the end of the world, isn’t it?! I know you were a bit cross that we didn’t tell you about Stråla, but we thought it would be a nice surprise when you got to Sweden.
I miss you and Britta so much, but I’m sure you’re having a wonderful time. Daddy says ‘Hi’ and wants me to pass on a big kiss to his little girl. We got your letter and are pleased you want to enter Tuff Troll. Dad’s Googled it and says – taking into account your height, weight and previous experience – you might be able to complete the race in under ninety minutes, but he’s worried that you will be the last one in. He doesn’t want you to feel like you lost. Perhaps you should sit this one out? We’re all entering the Cliff Hanger 12K in autumn, an endurance race in Dorset. Maybe if you start training now, you might be able to have a go at that?
Got to go. Bloomingdale’s beckons! You should see the clothes I’ve bought. Don’t worry, I’ll share them with you.
Love Mummy
P.S. Write a letter to Britta. I think she might miss you.
I’m holding my phone tight in my hand. Mum has managed to annoy me from over a thousand miles away. I thought they’d be thrilled about the race. I even imagined her getting my message and proudly showing it to Dad, but I guess they shook their heads and tutted. They would never, ever tell Britta to ‘sit this one out’. How many times has Dad said to Britta, ‘Sweetheart, giving up is not an option.’ Unless you are Kat. Then it’s the only option.
I stare at my phone, not sure what to do next. Pearl’s been involved in frenzied texting to Tiann and is relieved to discover that Oy’s alive. She shows me several blurry photos of him. My reception flickers down to two bars. Quickly, I send a message to Britta: Hey Titta, just wanted to let you know I’m alive. I hope you are looking after Pinky. If Mum rings, tell her I AM entering Tuff Troll. You could write to me if you like. x Kat
‘Who’s Titta?’ Pearl is reading over my shoulder.
‘My sister. That’s what I used to call her when I was little.’
‘The one you hate?’
‘I don’t hate her.’ This comes out loud. Pearl just raises one eyebrow and turns back to her phone.
I’ve had a lot of messages from Betty and Bea, both telling me that they aren’t allowed to come to Sweden on their own, or even together. I text back, telling them the bizarre news that Pearl is sitting next to me right now. I include a photo to prove it. Pearl goes for her classic pose of a sneer and a single finger stuck up close to the camera.
‘Reception’s gone,’ she says a few minutes later. ‘Come on. Let’s go. I want my fags.’
Pearl doesn’t find swimming back so easy. In between wheezing and coughing she calls me names. I swim slowly next to her, but everything I say to encourage her just makes her madder. I look at the shore. It seems really far away and Pearl is very pale. Just when I’m wondering if I should get her to float so I can pull her in, a voice calls out, ‘Stop splashing your arms around!’ I turn round. Otto is paddling towards us on one of his kayaks.
‘Oh, thank God,’ Pearl says. ‘Give us a lift, mate.’ She starts to swim towards him.
‘No, no,’ he says, paddling backwards out of her reach. ‘Don’t quit. You’re not a loser, are you?’
‘Did you call me a loser?’ Pearl does her hard face, the one that usually means serious trouble for someone, but today it just makes Otto laugh. Maybe it’s the Sellotape harness, or it could be the flapping hands. ‘Why don’t you shut up?’ she says. ‘Because I am about to drown and it will be your fault!’
‘Pain is temporary, young lady. Quitting lasts forever!’
‘Ahhh!’ she screams. ‘Death lasts forever too, old man!’ But after a few seconds of staring at Otto and treading water, she growls then starts swimming towards the shore.
Otto paddles behind her, just out of her reach. I know this because when he says something particularly annoying, like, ‘Losers quit when they’re tired. Winners quit when they’ve won!’ she takes a swipe at his kayak.
Eventually, she gets close enough to the beach to crawl in on her hands and knees. Then, before she’s even clear of the water, she falls face down on the smooth rock, her legs still dangling in the sea. Otto watches as I try to pull her further up the rock by her hands. ‘C’mon, Pearl,’ I say. ‘Get up.’
Eventually, she rolls on to her back. Then, groaning, she props herself up on her elbows. She pulls her phone out of the Sellotape. ‘Jesus.’ She tugs at the tape. ‘How do I get this off my hair?’ Looking up, she sees Otto in his kayak. They stare at each other. Pearl’s shoulders are shaking. ‘Go on,’ she mutters. ‘Say it.’
Otto narrows his eyes and Pearl narrows her eyes back. They are having a scowl-off. They’re both good. I can’t tell who is going to win. ‘Say what?’ he asks.
‘You know,’ she says. ‘Winning’s like a sandwich. Don’t forget the bread, or some rubbish like that.’
‘Failure is not falling down. It’s refusing to get up.’
‘Who said that?’ she asks, grabbing my arm and pulling herself to her feet. ‘A dumbass in a kayak?’
Otto laughs then paddles away. ‘Good swim!’ he calls over his shoulder.
‘Dick,’ says Pearl. But she says it quietly.
‘So that’s Otto,’ I say, ‘the guy who’s going to help us train every day and the person who runs Tuff Troll. It’s really great that you made such an effort to be charming.’
‘I might kill him,’ she says, as she starts to dry off, ‘or you if you don’t get me some fags right now.’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Juni, smiling at Pearl, ‘but I can’t sell you tobacco because you are under eighteen.’
‘I’m not!’ Pearl puts both hands on the counter. ‘I’m eighteen. Tell her, Kat.’
‘Er,’ I say. Juni stares at me. ‘It’s true. Pearl is definitely eighteen.’
‘Then why did your aunt give me this?’ Juni points at a picture pinned behind the till. It’s a very accurate drawing of Pearl, complete with leather wristbands, wild hair and angry face. Coming out of cartoon Pearl’s mouth, in cheery bubble writing, are the words, ‘Jag är femton!’
Juni translates for Pearl, pointing at each word in turn. ‘I. Am. Fifteen.’
‘Give me that!’ Pearl leans forward and tries to grab the picture.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ says Juni, folding her arms and standing solidly in her way.
‘Having that picture up there is abusing my rights!’ Pearl’s fists are clenched so tight that her knuckles have gone white.
Juni watches her for a moment, then says, ‘You are not buying any cigarettes from this store. But I have just made some cinnamon buns. Would you like one?’
‘Too expensive!’ spits Pearl.
‘It’s a gift,’ says Juni, taking one from the cake stand and putting it in a paper bag. ‘They taste nicer than cigarettes.’
‘I doubt it,’ says Pearl. But after scowling at Juni for a moment, she snatches the bag and walks out of the shop.
‘Tack, Juni!’ I say, smiling as sweetly as possible.
I catch up with Pearl in the woods. She’s peeling strips off the cinnamon bun and stuffing them in her mouth. ‘I hate it here,’ she says darkly.
‘Do you want to go home?’
‘Yes!’ She marches on. ‘No … not really. I hate it there too. I just really, really need a cigarette. Ahhh!’ she screams, punches a tree, then has a massive bite of bun. I’m filled with dread when I imagine what the next few days will be like, with Pearl stomping round the cabin, swearing at me and Frida and craving nicotine. ‘Stop looking so miser
able,’ snaps Pearl. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t freak out … much.’
‘Why don’t we go for a run,’ I say desperately. ‘It might distract you from smoking.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘We have to run five kilometres in Tuff Troll.’
‘Look, Kat, about this race –’
‘Don’t,’ I say. ‘Please don’t say you won’t do it.’
‘Why’s it so important that we do the stupid race?’
‘I have to enter because no one thinks I can do it, Pearl.’ I pull her back so we are facing each other. ‘Leo thinks I’m a joke, so does Peeta. My mum and dad have told me to give up. Even Frida, Miss Positivity, thinks I shouldn’t bother.’
Pearl makes her eyes go wide, like I’m mad. ‘Calm down,’ she says. ‘Just forget about it and we can have a laugh.’ She looks around at the trees and wrinkles her nose. ‘We can sunbathe and stuff.’
‘No we can’t! Right now, I need one person to say, “Course you can do this, Kat.” And that person is you!’ I actually press my finger into her chest as I say this.
She looks down at my finger and then slowly back at me. I’m not sure what she’s going to do, but at that moment we hear footsteps and look up and see Peeta running towards us. She’s wearing tight black running leggings and special sunglasses with an elastic strip to stop them falling off. Her gold chain is bouncing on a tiny sports bra.
She stops in front of us and rests on her knees. ‘Your friend has come,’ she says, breathing heavily. She can’t hide the surprise in her voice. She straightens up and stares at Pearl, a dangerous thing to do at the best of times, but very risky when Pearl is nicotine deprived. ‘So this is your “really fit” friend. The one who is going to help you win the race.’ Then she does her smile, the one intended to make you feel small and pathetic.
Pearl understands that smile. She practically invented it. Popping the last bit of bun in her mouth, Pearl licks each finger in turn, never taking her eyes off Peeta.
SUN KISSED Page 11
