Snakeskins

by Tim Major

  “I know it’s not so simple. Nothing is. But yeah. That Skin, he weren’t me. And he weren’t someone totally new either. And then he just went, didn’t he? So the way I see it, it don’t matter all that much. If each Skin only hangs around for half a minute, who cares if they can think for themselves or not?”

  “Yeah.” She was far from certain that she agreed. “Anyway. I should let you get back to your thing.”

  Tobe’s knees clicked as he rose to his feet. When Caitlin vacated her chair he tossed the wet jeans onto it.

  “One thing, though,” he said as she turned to leave. “I heard you and that fit friend of yours talking. About your shedding. And it ain’t right, what you’re planning.”

  “Evie’s not my friend,” Caitlin said. Saying it out loud, she felt she might cry.

  Tobe shrugged, oblivious. “It’s private, see.”

  “Shedding?”

  “Them government types shouldn’t stick their noses in. And if you ask me, normal people shouldn’t be watching either.”

  Caitlin felt the now-familiar righteous rage bubbling up within her. Nobody understood. “But they need to see that we’re not afraid. That we’re proud.”

  “Whatever.” Tobe plodded onto the decking. “But being proud is something inside you, isn’t it? It’s not about shouting stuff out to the world, especially when the world doesn’t give two shits about you and your extra-long life and your magicky healing and your freaky Skins. That’s just what I think. I’m not so thick as all that, you know.”

  He ducked into the shed. The sagging armchair positioned too close to the TV swallowed him up.

  Caitlin didn’t move.

  He was right. As difficult as it was to believe, her uncle was actually right. Rather than making a big scene, displaying her shedding in public, she ought to be dignified. That would show Evie and the others, far more than making a circus of the whole thing. It’s what her mum would have done, too.

  Yes.

  When she shed, when she produced her first ever Snakeskin, she would do it without a crowd, without Evie. And she would be silent. It would be beautiful.

  FIVE

  Caitlin sat cross-legged on the grass, facing away from Ivy Cottage. Her left hand rested on one knee. The other stroked a faint red scar on her forearm. The cut, made by the bike chain as she had wrestled to free herself three days ago, had healed almost entirely but the red line remained. Every time she saw it, she winced at the memory of her stupidity.

  She hadn’t returned to college. Mr Pearl had taken to ringing Caitlin’s dad mid-morning each day, insisting that her suspension had now been lifted. Ian had passed the messages on to Caitlin, but he hadn’t pressed the point. There was an unspoken agreement – that there could be no changes to the way things were until after the shedding.

  And now the day had finally arrived. Her seventeenth birthday. Ian and Tobe had been ready with the cake as soon as she emerged from her bedroom just before lunchtime. She had felt a little overwhelmed about the idea of the two men doing anything as a team, but she’d told them not to make a fuss. A shedding easily outweighed the importance of a birthday. If there was going to be a celebration, it could wait until after the Skin had been and gone.

  She shivered and hoicked her scarf to cover her bare shoulders. Wearing her mum’s ceremonial gown was a fashion error, but it was important. She watched the lowering sun and imagined that its descent was controlled by the strokes of her finger upon the scar. The shedding ought to occur soon after the sun had fully set. It wouldn’t be long now. The foot of the garden had already dipped into darkness, the trees lit more by the glow from the house than by sunlight.

  She heard voices behind her. She didn’t turn around.

  “—marvellous cup of tea,” a woman’s voice said. “Thank you, Mr Hext. Not everyone is so cordial, I can tell you.”

  “It’s the least we can do,” Ian replied. “Careful where you step. The garden slopes away from this point on.”

  Caitlin leapt to her feet and spun around. “No!”

  Her dad’s face crumpled, expressing a mixture of apology and what-could-I-have-possibly-done? attitude.

  Caitlin almost spat at the government woman as she emerged from Ivy Cottage, edging carefully down the shallow slope. “Not her. Dad! Seriously. Anyone but her.”

  The woman – Ms Blaine, that was her name – extended a hand. It wavered when Caitlin didn’t take it. “It’s good to see you again, young lady. You must be thrilled that it’s your turn at last!”

  Caitlin pursed her lips. She stared at Ms Blaine until the woman turned away in embarrassment.

  “I’m not doing it,” she said sullenly. “Not with her around.”

  Clumsily, Ian attempted to take her by the shoulders but she shrugged him off. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his cardigan. “It’s not exactly something you have control over at this stage.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I swear, I won’t let her call the shots. This is your night. But the government were never going to let you do this without supervision, were they? It’s the law.”

  Caitlin glared at Ms Blaine, who was standing on tiptoes and craning her neck to see the glittering blue tarpaulins in the field beyond the end of the garden. It occurred to Caitlin to wonder why the scaffolding and tarpaulins had been in place for so many months, without any signs of construction beginning.

  The presence of another woman made Caitlin’s mum feel even more missing, as though Ms Blaine was an unconvincing stunt double. It felt like the final straw. She could hardly remember which aspects of the shedding ceremony had once struck her as romantic.

  She just wanted it over and done with.

  Her dad and Ms Blaine set off towards Tobe’s shed. Ian gave a quick, hopeful thumbs-up. Caitlin scowled but plodded after him.

  “Tobe!” Ian called out. “It’s nearly time. Up you get.”

  The door to the shed opened and Tobe emerged. To Caitlin’s surprise, he was not only dressed, he was wearing a suit and tie. His hair glistened with whatever product kept it from springing upwards as it usually did. Caitlin stifled a laugh. This was a gesture for her benefit, after all. Her uncle was softer than she had suspected.

  Tobe ducked back inside, fumbling with something. Caitlin gasped as dozens of white fairy lights appeared along the lip of the roof of the shed, turning this corner of the garden into a vision of festive cheer.

  Abruptly, Caitlin began to sob.

  This wasn’t right. She didn’t want this. It wasn’t anything to do with being watched by the government. If anything, it was this unconditional support from her dad and Tobe that was pushing her over the edge. They were acting as though being a Charmer was something wonderful, and yet all it had done for her was make her bitter and lose all her friends. If she’d had a choice, she’d choose to be normal.

  Through her tears she saw her dad gesture to Tobe and Ms Blaine: Keep quiet. He scurried up the hillside and crouched beside her.

  “Tobe was determined to do something,” he said. “He means well.”

  Caitlin shook her head. “It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. It’s just—”

  Ian put his arm around her. “I know, love.” He glanced up at the sky, as though he could tell the time by looking at the stars – perhaps he could? “It’s almost time. There’s no way to really be ready, I know. But are you ready?”

  Caitlin bobbed her head, more from her continued sobbing rather than a nod. She hefted herself up. The grassy incline made her even more unbalanced on her weak and wobbly legs. She allowed her dad to lead her to the shed. He stopped beside Tobe and Ms Blaine, who stared at her clipboard rather than meet Caitlin’s eye. Ian ushered Caitlin onto the decking. Caitlin looked up at the fairy lights. Her tears transformed each one into a streaked star.

  “No,” she mumbled. “This doesn’t feel right.”

  She saw Tobe’s shoulders slump.

  “Uncle Tobe, no. I don’t mean that. It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful. But bear with me. C
ould the three of you stand up here instead of me?”

  Confused, Ian, Tobe and Ms Blaine stepped onto the decking. Ms Blaine appeared suspicious. She was probably worried that Caitlin might make a run for it.

  Caitlin took three steps up the slope. The three of them were framed by the fairy lights, like Mary, Joseph and Jesus in a primary-school nativity.

  “I want her to see you all properly, when she arrives,” she said. If she were the Snakeskin, she’d want to see her family, not her originator. Even more, she would want to experience this view of the reddening sky and the black towers of the trees. It was the least Caitlin could offer during her few moments of life.

  Her new-found sense of calm was shattered by the slam of a gate. She whirled around.

  Evie was stumbling across the hillocks, the heels of her boots digging into the grass. Caitlin’s cry of relief came out as a croak.

  “Tell me I didn’t miss it?” Evie panted. “The taxi got a flat tyre, would you believe that?”

  She tripped and fell into Caitlin’s arms, then planted a kiss on her cheek as though the entire action were intentional. “You look ace,” she said. “Very ethereal, a touch goth. Love it.”

  Caitlin held her at arm’s length. Perhaps she oughtn’t to accept Evie again so quickly. Wasn’t her pride at stake? “I thought you hated me.”

  “Well you’re a twat, then. Didn’t bring you a birthday present though, so ha.”

  “I said you shouldn’t come.”

  Evie stuck out her tongue. “When have you ever known me to listen to you? I figured you’d keep saying so, if I asked. So I didn’t ask. And today’s about more than you properly joining the Charmer club. Today’s the day you can get over yourself and all this bullshit and then come back to college and, you know, hang out again. Right?”

  Caitlin considered possible responses: anger, accusations, insults. But what was the point? Evie was her best friend. So instead she said simply, “Right.”

  “Miss Hext.” From the tone of Ms Blaine’s voice, Caitlin knew it was time. She pushed Evie gently towards the decking. Evie took her place beside the others. She made a cross with her index fingers. It was the sign they had invented when they were kids. Star-crossed lovers, together forever.

  Ian cleared his throat. “We’re over-running already, I’m afraid. But it’s fine. You know the drill, Cait. And you know that—” his voice cracked a little “—your mum’s proud of you. Okay?”

  He tossed a bundle of cloth towards her. She caught it and draped the blanket around her shoulders.

  “Okay,” she replied.

  The sun was a narrow strip of gold punctured by the arrows of the treetops.

  “I love you,” she said. She didn’t direct the words to anyone in particular.

  The light became less gold and more purple, then finally green. The fairy lights turned grass-green too. Without a particular sense of surprise, Caitlin realised that the colour change was due to the green aura that now surrounded her.

  A tickling sensation began at her toes, then crept upwards, as though she was being immersed slowly into a warm bath. The tickliness soothed her skin and somehow supported her, making her body feel lighter and her limbs floaty and difficult to locate. She felt a glimmer of panic, too, as the green light threatened to eclipse her view of Evie and her family, but it was as though the fear were something small and hard and unthreatening, buried beneath the pleasant sensations.

  There was beauty in this. She felt a flush of pride. She thought of her mum, watching. Her mouth opened.

  The feeling disappeared.

  She looked to her right.

  There she was.

  The first thing that struck her about the Snakeskin was her nakedness. Rather than feel prudish on behalf of the other girl, Caitlin had the sudden notion that her own clothes must make her look ridiculous. The Snakeskin’s body was stunning. Not because of its shape – though seeing her own body from this angle was both alarming and oddly gratifying; she realised that she was more curvy and less gangly than she had always imagined – but more because the Skin held herself in such a way as to appear unashamed of herself.

  Even so, Caitlin swung the blanket off her shoulders and offered it to the other girl. As she did so, she noticed that the red scar on her own arm had disappeared entirely. Her body had been healed, rejuvenated. She really was a Charmer, now. During each successive shedding, the changes would be more pronounced. She would continue to reap the benefits long after her Skin became ash.

  The Skin took the blanket, careful not to let her fingers touch Caitlin’s. Only now did she start shivering.

  Caitlin heard her dad speak, somewhere far away. His voice sounded small and dry.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Caitlin saw Tobe reach over to take the crimson notebook from her dad. He read haltingly. “We honour you. And with your arrival we acknowledge this important milestone in the life of Caitlin Usborne Hext. With your passing, she will learn and grow. You are the instrument of her maturation. We thank you.”

  Caitlin kept her eyes on the Snakeskin. The girl blinked and her teeth chattered. Her eyes glistened with tears. She was gazing upwards, as Caitlin had intended, at the last pinks of daylight. It suddenly struck Caitlin that the Skin wasn’t allowing herself to look at Evie or Ian. Perhaps it was too painful.

  “Can you remember?” Caitlin whispered. “Everything?”

  The Snakeskin turned. She didn’t respond, but Caitlin knew the answer. That crumpled look was exactly the expression she herself would make, if she found herself in her situation. She had read all the science books about Snakeskins. She understood the phrase ‘trace memory’. But that didn’t cover it. The Skin had Caitlin’s memories, her character, maybe even her soul, whatever that might be. The only difference was that the Skin was the one wearing the blanket. She must know that she was the copy. And she must know she had only moments before she would be gone forever.

  Recently, Caitlin had spent all her time thinking about unfairness. But she had only been thinking about herself.

  Before she even realised she was going to do it, she rushed forwards. She flung her arms around the shoulders of the Snakeskin. The Skin gasped and cried out.

  The four onlookers erupted into confusion and chaos, leaping off the decking and struggling up the slope.

  Evie reached her first. Caitlin pulled her close, hugging both Evie and the Skin.

  “Cait!” Ian cried. He held back until Evie edged to one side and let him into the little huddle. Tobe appeared at his side. Caitlin stretched her arm to pull them both in tighter. All of their foreheads met in the centre of the throng, making a wheel with their necks as spokes.

  Ms Blaine started saying something. Evie bared her teeth at her. Caitlin grinned. Ms Blaine retreated, tapping her fingernails on her clipboard in anxiety.

  This was what it was all about. Family. The Skin was one of them, for these brief moments.

  The Snakeskin seemed unable to catch her breath. She shivered uncontrollably. Soon everybody in the huddle was shuddering too.

  “It’s okay,” Caitlin whispered, only partly for the Skin’s benefit. “You’re safe. Right at this moment, you’re safe. We love you.”

  They stayed like that. With each moment that passed, Caitlin expected the Skin to disappear – for one of the spokes of the wheel to suddenly be absent and for the group to become unbalanced.

  But the Skin didn’t ash.

  After several minutes, Caitlin extricated herself from the group. She took a step back and Evie, Tobe and Ian did too.

  The fairy lights reflected in the Snakeskin’s shining eyes, making constellations of stars.

  “I don’t understand,” the Skin said. Caitlin realised that it was the first time she had spoken. Her voice sounded strange, as though she was listening to a recording of herself – a little more nasal than she would have expected, the accent a little more Yorkshire, like her mum.

  Caitlin looked at her dad. He would know what to do. But Ian
only gave a little shrug.

  “I really do think—” Ms Blaine began. Then she stopped dead.

  Caitlin spun to see what had shocked her.

  The Snakeskin was running barefoot up the slope.

  After a moment’s hesitation, Ms Blaine charged after her, followed by Ian. The Snakeskin’s progress was quicker, though – her bare feet had better purchase on the slippery grass – and she reached the doors of the sitting-room bay with seconds to spare. She fumbled with the handle, then she was inside.

  Caitlin released her held breath and gulped air.

  This shouldn’t be happening.

  She flinched as Evie slipped an arm around her waist. Tobe put a hand on her shoulder, kneading it. Were they trying to prevent her from following? Caitlin ducked free and took a couple of strides towards the house. But even without any physical restraint, she found she couldn’t make herself go any further.

  Shouts came from inside the building. Ms Blaine’s voice, demanding something. Then Ian’s muffled voice, calmer, trying to reassure. And then the Snakeskin’s shriek. A sound brought up from deep within the belly.

  At first Caitlin thought that this was the moment, that the Skin was disappearing – would her dust be left on the walls in there, as a gruesome reminder? – but then three silhouettes appeared at the hallway window. Two were upright and the other flailed and struggled between them. The shapes became smaller. They must be dragging the girl to the front door.

  Caitlin’s knees buckled. She would have fallen to the floor if Evie hadn’t held her up.

  “I’ll go,” Evie said.

  “No. No. Stay here. Please.”

  Tobe was making his way up to the side door of the cottage, as if it would be distasteful to take the same route as the fleeing Skin. Caitlin pressed her forehead to Evie’s neck and concentrated on breathing, breathing, breathing. She had no tears left.

  A few minutes later, Tobe returned. Ian followed. He looked tiny, his body narrowed by the glare of the lights of the house. His mouth was a tight line.