Fire Girl, Forest Boy

by Chloe Daykin

  I get up and dust the sand off my butt and take his hand and pull him up off the floor and we hobble to the water’s edge.

  We stand there listening to the ocean waves and I take Alessa’s necklace and throw it out into the sea, back to the water.

  We let it go.

  Arms round each other’s shoulders.

  I wonder if it’ll come and find us. If it needs us again.

  Then I do something I’ve needed to do for a long time.

  I borrow Matias’s phone and ring home.

  Home.

  I guess it is now.

  I guess I have to get used to it.

  Home’s more about people than places. Right?

  I click the buttons. And hold my breath.

  ‘Papi, it’s me,’ I say and hold the phone away from my ear while he fills it with relief.

  Maya

  Dad puts us all up in a hotel and me and Matias and Raul spend the night taking baths and hitting each other with pillows on giant beds and watching bad TV (while Dad spends it on the phone to Carlos). Then feasting on charcoal roast chicken so crisp the skin crunches and juice runs down our chins, with fries and garlic dip and Coke that froths in our bellies.

  Matias gets stitches in his leg from the hotel doctor and me and Raul stand on the balcony so we don’t have to watch.

  We listen to the faraway hiss of the sea and the yelling of the kids playing football down below as the street lights come on.

  I take his hand. There’s a flicker between us and we stare straight ahead not looking at each other. Kind of knowing that this is the end. And kinda of not wanting to say it.

  ‘So that’s the end of it,’ I say.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘I reckon if Alessa’s necklace can travel thousands of miles up the Amazon, you could always catch a plane.’

  And the balcony fills with fireballs which hum gently, hovering up against each other.

  ‘Where do you think they come from?’

  I shrug and tell him something Dad told me years ago. ‘You know we’re all made from the same materials as the sun,’ I say. ‘There’s a bit of sun in all of us.’

  And Matias pushes his face against the glass and makes faces through the window.

  Raul

  We stand at the airport and Omar comes over and we do our special handshake and he slaps backs and shakes hands with Matias and hands me a box of travel-sickness pills.

  ‘Thanks,’ I smile and take two.

  ‘I’ll come back for you tomorrow,’ he says to Matias, and gets into the cockpit.

  ‘You sure you don’t want to come back and stay with us?’ I say.

  Matias shakes his head and shows me the environmental projects we looked up last night on his phone. Where people come from all over the world to help. ‘I was thinking of starting one of these,’ he mumbles. ‘Maybe. Maybe we can set up a project in the old village.’ He smiles

  ‘Nice.’ I raise an eyebrow. ‘Just try and be a bit less bossy, OK.’

  He elbows me in the ribs.

  ‘You might want to try talking to them,’ I say and shuffle my feet. ‘Sometimes it’s hard to know what you’re thinking.’

  ‘Trees don’t do much talking,’ he says and looks at the floor. I guess trees are all he’s had for the past two years. Pretty much. I’m glad that’s going to change.

  I put my arms round his chest and hold him. He holds me back.

  No way either of us is going to say ‘I love you, man’ but that’s how it feels.

  Sometimes feelings are stronger than words.

  Omar starts the engine and we jump.

  ‘Come back and see me, townie,’ he says. ‘So jungle you doesn’t get extinct.’

  And we wipe our eyes and pull away.

  Maya

  I shuffle past Dad into my seat and watch the brown snake of the Amazon winding away out the window. I think of Raul down there. Us pulling away from each other. And it hurts. A bit.

  I look at Dad. And take a breath. ‘I’ve got a list of changes I’d like to make when we get home,’ I say.

  ‘Right,’ he says, and looks at me sideways and winces.

  And I start on the list I’ve been making since Raul left this morning. Dad writes it down.

  And he winces again. But he listens. Because this time I make him.

  And it’s not like we can solve everything just like that.

  I know it.

  Changes happen in pieces. Small chunks at a time.

  You can’t fix it all. But it’s a beginning.

  And beginnings feel good.

  Raul

  This time when we fly I feel like a bird. Free. I trace the rivers out the window with my finger and watch the landscape turn from desert dust to mountain.

  I think about Maya on her plane.

  Us floating apart. It feels kinda weird.

  We bounce on to the ground and I am not sick.

  I give Omar the thumbs up. ‘Nice work, Tigger,’ I say and take the headphones off as the plane rolls and then stops.

  An old bumped Toyota meets us at the airport. Diane gets out. ‘Papi Rosales is my grandpapi,’ she says and holds up her phone. How come I didn’t know that? ‘He said you guys needed a lift.’

  And I grin and think how fate plays games with linking us all together.

  The universe is bigger than we know.

  We hug and me and Omar get into her car and I sit in the front while Omar naps across the back.

  When we see Dad he runs and hugs us both. And Mami piles in and my little brothers hug my legs. I am like a hug tree.

  Omar and Papi look at each other with grins on their faces and wet eyes and arms round each other’s shoulders.

  ‘It’s been too long,’ Papi says and pats Omar’s shoulder.

  ‘I know,’ Omar says and does the chicken dance and makes us laugh till snot squirts out my brother’s nose.

  Papi cooks aji de gallina (creamy chicken curry) and chocolate bananas ’cos he knows I love them, and Mami strokes my hair and kisses the top of my forehead. I help wash up.

  ‘Alessa visited me,’ I say and I look out the corner of my eye and stack a plate. ‘She looked happy,’ I say. ‘She says she forgives me. She says everything’s OK.’

  ‘It always was,’ she says. Tears roll down Mami’s face, but she puts down the cloth and smiles and holds me tight. ‘It wasn’t your fault. I never thought that. You know it, right?’

  And we stay there like that till Papi Rosales’s dog comes in and rubs his nose on my legs and wags his tail and barks.

  ‘Toffee!’ I say and hold my hands up, and he jumps and puts both of his paws on my chest and licks me in the face.

  He goes back outside and leads me to Papi Rosales.

  Papi leans against his wooden door and flicks grit at the wall. ‘It’s time,’ he says.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Your story,’ he says and closes his eyes. ‘This time it’s your turn.’ He grins and pokes me in the leg with a stick.

  I smile and ruffle Toffee’s ears.

  Maya

  I sit on my bed with Socks and type out a message to Raul.

  I now have a camera so I send him a picture of Dad’s face when he comes in the door with a carry out.

  It’s bright. And kinda proud.

  And happy.

  The kind of look that comes and goes in a bazillionth of a second.

  Like the one he had yesterday when he came home with an iPhone and I gave him a thumbs up.

  CLICK.

  I take one for my brain.

  And one for my phone.

  And take one of what he looks like right now while we’re laughing at Socks who’s bopping the fireballs that got so excited they flew out of the lampshade.

  Raul

  The water runs down the streets.

  Same as it has since the Incas.

  Time flows on.

  I look down at Rick’s watch.

  With time you can escape to put things r
ight.

  Then you don’t need to escape.

  Not any more.

  *

  And my phone buzzes in my pocket …

  Author’s Note

  Thanks to the support of the Arts Council I spent three weeks travelling throughout Peru with guide Gaspar and an intrepid group of travellers. From the city streets of Lima, to canyons and islands and volcanic towns, floating in lakes, climbing up enormous mountains and into the Sacred Valley, the heartland of the Incas, meeting genuine people and soaking up customs and beliefs and atmosphere that became Maya and Raul’s adventure (and Raul’s home town!).

  The trees and creatures in the book are all real. As, unfortunately, is illegal logging. It’s a big problem in Peru and people literally risk their lives standing up for indigenous people and the forest. Thankfully the EIA and OSINFOR also exist, though all the characters in this book are fictional.

  The Rainforest Alliance and Rainforest Foundation also run wonderful conservation projects. You can find out more about them and what we can do at www.rainforest-alliance.org and www.rainforestfoundationuk.org

  Acknowledgements

  This book has been a very intense ride of a write and wouldn’t have happened at all without the incredible kindness, friendship, support, wisdom and love from so many people. Your support makes me see the magic in the world! Thanks for being there.

  To Chris, Tom and Wilf. Thanks for all your patient insightful and invaluable listening! Thank you, Tom, for your sharp ear and honest take-no-BS attitude. Thank you, Wilf, for your laughter and kind, shrewd observations.

  To (our cats) Iorek and Bob who joined me every writing day with furry huggy encouragement.

  To Tom and Ruth and Guy and Bea, who lent me their cottage out of pure kindness, so I had somewhere to warm and cosy to go and didn’t have to scrape the ice off my caravan windows – THANK YOU! You’re very inspiring, wonderful people.

  To my friends, ALL of you, and in particular (in alphabetical order): Katie and Charlie and Edy Darby-Villis, Liz Flanagan, Rachel Harker, Penny Lee, Pamela Matthews, Theresa Webster and the Hexham writing gang – who were always there with wisdom and a laugh when I needed you. You’re amazing. I am so lucky you are in the world.

  To the brilliant Faber team – in particular the steady and sage Natasha Brown and my editor Stella Paskins, who just plain got what I was trying to do. Honest, supportive and wonderful. Thank you.

  Thanks to my wonderful agent Catherine Clarke and her savvy, safe hands.

  To David Almond for being such an inspiration and support in his work and in himself.

  To Yoga with Adriene – hand on heart this book would NOT exist without your YouTube channel. Yoga for everything in any moment you need it, for FREE – constant and transformative support. It’s been a revelation at the start and end of every day.

  To all the amazing fellow authors out there – it’s so good to meet you and be part of the big author family.

  To my family family, right behind me on this writerly rollercoaster: Thanks, Dad, for sage advice and the hairy eyebrow fact! Thanks, Mum, for the kindly ear and support. Thanks, Em, for being there and making me laugh from all over the world!

  To the wonderful Arts Council who supported me in the writing and research of this books, and the brilliant Cragside and Eastlea schools in Cramlington who went on this journey with me in spirit – setting travel quests and sharing in all of the discoveries with brilliant insights and enthusiasms, big-hearted emails and Inca Cola tastings! Much appreciated. Keep up the wonderful writing and reading! Here’s to the fantastic Mrs Bilton and Mrs Stafford who are inspirational people and teachers and make the world brighter place.

  To my Peru companions – especially Jane! (And obvs Gaspar!)

  To Juan Carlos Galeano and his book Folktales of the Amazon. I learnt so much from this and you. Thanks so much for collecting and sharing it. It’s a brilliant book.

  And thanks to YOU, the reader. Without readers what’s the point of books? You make the words come alive. Thank you!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Fish Boy was Chloe Daykin’s first novel, which she wrote while studying for her MA in Creative Writing at Newcastle University. It won a Northern Writers’ Award, was nominated for the CILIP Carnegie Medal, longlisted for the UKLA Book Awards, shortlisted for the Branford Boase and garnered critical acclaim. An artist, designer, playwright and teacher, Chloe is always up for an unusual adventure and lives in Northumberland with her family. Fire Girl, Forest Boy is her third novel.

  BY THE SAME AUTHOR

  Fish Boy

  The Boy Who Hit Play

  Copyright

  First published in the UK in 2019

  by Faber & Faber Limited

  Bloomsbury House, 74–77 Great Russell Street

  London, WC1B 3DA

  This ebook edition first published in 2019

  All rights reserved

  Text © Chloe Daykin, 2019

  Cover illustration © David Litchfield, 2019

  The right of Chloe Daykin to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly

  ISBN 978–0–571–34944–9