SUN KISSED

by Jenny McLachlan

  ‘Hej,’ he says, raising a hand. He draws alongside me.

  ‘Hej.’

  ‘Mind if I join you?’ I shrug. I’m not really in the mood to chat, but I don’t own the rock. ‘Sit on this,’ he instructs, passing me one end of his paddle.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sit on it.’ I frown, but do as he says. He holds his end of the paddle across his lap so that he’s anchored in place. ‘Now I won’t drift off,’ he says. It’s like we’re sitting next to each other, only I’m on a rock and he’s in his kayak. He takes a roll-up cigarette from his top pocket and lights it by striking a match against the side of the kayak. Next, he pulls a can of beer out from somewhere around his feet and opens the tab with a hiss. He takes a sip of beer. ‘Skål!’ he says, toasting the sunset.

  I laugh. ‘I thought you were supposed to be a fitness freak?’

  ‘Nobody’s perfect,’ he says with a shrug.

  ‘You can say that again.’

  Together we watch the sun slowly sink towards the pale horizon. ‘You ran well today.’

  ‘No I didn’t. I was so slow. I think I’m actually getting worse at running.’

  He shakes his head. ‘You didn’t pace yourself,’ he says, jabbing his beer can in the air to emphasise his point. ‘You were too fast at the start.’ I sigh and start to pick at the dry green plant that grows on the rock, crumbling it between my fingers. ‘You know, Kat, we have a saying here in Sweden: Alla är vi barn i början.’

  ‘I assume you are going to tell me what it means.’ I know I sound sulky, but I don’t want a language lesson.

  ‘It means: We all start out as children … It means that beginners make mistakes.’ I lean forward and trail my fingers in the sea. Suddenly, Otto changes the subject. ‘Did you know that I’ve known Leo since he was born?’ I narrow my eyes. What’s Otto up to? ‘He was a happy little boy and as soon as he could talk he would make me take him out on my boat. We used to visit the little islands and he collected, you know, sniglar.’ He wiggles his finger round in the air, drawing a spiral.

  ‘Snails?’

  ‘Yes, snails! Can you believe it? He kept them alive and gave them names.’

  A few days ago, I would have loved to hear this story, but right now, I can’t stand it. ‘I think I might swim back,’ I say.

  Otto acts like I haven’t even spoken. ‘He was very happy … but people have to grow up, become more serious. The other day, though, Leo’s face was shining like he was six again and he’d just found the best, rarest snail in the world.’

  I’m starting to lose track of Otto’s story. I stand up, releasing his paddle. ‘I really think I should be getting back,’ I say. I know he’s trying to help out Leo, but it’s not working. The image of a cute snail-collecting Leo doesn’t cancel out the image of Leo with a secret girlfriend. I start to clamber off the rock into the sea.

  ‘It was the day he brought back one of my kayaks – a double one – and I asked him what he’d been up to …’ I drift away from the rock, but I’m listening. ‘He told me that he’d just spent the day on Vilda with you. That’s all he said, but he couldn’t hide his smile. It was good to see him that happy again.’

  I start to swim away. I think I’ve just been compared to a rare snail! For a minute, Otto’s story makes me forget about what happened at the disco, and I just remember being on Vilda with Leo, when we were the only people on the island. ‘Your legs are wonky!’ Otto shouts. ‘You need to sort that out before Tuff Troll.’

  ‘Maybe I like swimming with wonky legs!’ I call back, then I turn over and carry on with my breaststroke, deliberately kicking my legs out at a weird angle. Otto’s chuckles echo across the water to me and I realise I’m smiling too.

  Tomorrow I’m going back to the dock, and the day after that, and the day after that! Right now, one of my friends could be packing her bags, getting ready to join me here on Stråla. The thought of this makes me swim on with renewed energy and I even sort out my wonky legs.

  ‘That’s my girl!’ Otto shouts. ‘Don’t give up, and remember, alla är vi barn i början!’

  FOURTEEN

  ‘So, in your life,’ Nanna says, ‘you’ve kissed three boys.’

  ‘Technically,’ I say. We’re on one of our daily runs, heading towards Otto’s hut. I suppose it’s pointless training with Nanna: I’ve been to watch the ferry come for the past three days, but I’m always left standing on the dock alone. Each time the boat leaves, I feel a bit more disappointed because the more I train with Nanna, the more I want to enter Tuff Troll. My body feels strong and when I run I can control my breathing. Even my heart has stopped racing uncontrollably, but I can’t enter the race without one of my friends. I’ve tried ringing them, but even though I’ve sat for hours on Reception Rock, I haven’t had a single bar of reception … I am, however, getting an incredible tan.

  ‘Technically? What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, there was Tom Lord in Year Seven. It was in an English lesson in front of the whole class. We were acting out Romeo and Juliet and I was supposed to be dead. Miss told him to kiss my hand, but instead he went for my mouth and he lingered there. He got three Bad News stickers for kissing me.’

  ‘What about number two?’

  We run past Otto, who’s standing by the path with a stopwatch. ‘Hopeless!’ he yells. ‘Try and do the next lap in under twenty.’ We run on, apparently ignoring him, but I notice both of us speed up.

  ‘Number two was with Kyron at the end of the Year Nine Hallowe’en disco.’

  ‘Better than the dead kiss?’

  ‘Not really. I had vampire teeth on and he was wearing a Morphsuit. I’m not sure if it counts as a kiss if there’s a layer of fabric between your lips. Plus, I didn’t realise we were kissing. I was pretending to bite his neck for a selfie and he got the wrong idea.’

  ‘Number three?’

  I tell her about Joel in the wardrobe. It takes an entire lap of the island, but I do go into a lot of detail. ‘They don’t sound like very good kisses,’ she says. ‘In fact, I’m not sure they even count as kisses.’

  ‘Maybe they were no good because I wasn’t the one doing the kissing.’

  ‘Right. Next time you find yourself in a kissing situation, make sure you’re in charge,’ says Nanna. ‘OK. Time to Fun Run. You copy me.’ She runs along the path swinging her arms round and round like a windmill. Nanna’s very distracting – like a talking Labrador puppy. Sometimes she even makes me forget about Leo. I follow her, my arms flying round. Nanna invented Fun Run on our second day of running together. Basically, we take it in turns to do stupid things and the other person has to copy. No excuses. I was reluctant at first, but it is very fun.

  ‘Come on,’ says Nanna. ‘It’s your turn. My arms are about to fall off.’

  ‘I choose … Creeping Elf!’ We both make ourselves as small as possible as we run and hold our hands in a sneaky way. No way would I ever do this at home. Nanna’s really good at it. She shoots ahead of me into the mötesplats and I follow her. I’m just about to yell ‘Wait for me!’ in the Creeping Elf voice when I see Leo and Peeta step out of the shop. Immediately, I straighten up and lose the sneaky hands. Standing tall, I run straight ahead, wishing my shorts were a bit less flappy … and didn’t gape quite so much at the crotch.

  ‘Hej!’ says Nanna, running over to them. Sometimes she can be a bit too friendly.

  ‘Remember we’re being timed,’ I say, but she ignores me and starts chatting away with Peeta. I join them and hover on the edge of the circle, studying the plastic bear, the boxes of vegetables and my nails – wow – they look so bad. As Peeta’s explaining, in detail, why her trainers have such good arch support, I finally allow myself one tiny, fleeting glance at Leo. He’s standing there, arms folded, staring at the ground, looking as uncomfortable as me.

  ‘Hey, Kat,’ says Peeta suddenly. ‘Has your friend arrived yet?’

  ‘Not yet,’ I say. I know this is the moment when I should admit that there is no fri
end coming to Stråla, that there never has been, but Peeta rests her hand on Leo’s back and this is enough to make me say, ‘But she’ll be here soon.’

  ‘Great! I can’t wait to meet her.’

  ‘Come on, Nanna,’ I say, tugging her away. ‘Otto’s waiting for us.’

  As we run into the woods, Nanna calls back to them, ‘See you at the disco tonight?’ The disco. After what happened last week, I’m not sure I can face it. ‘You are coming, aren’t you?’ she asks. ‘Promise you’ll come.’ She looks up at me with her puppy face, her eyes big and hopeful.

  ‘OK,’ I say. ‘I’ll come.’

  *

  That evening, after I’ve done my make-up and spent an hour trying on all the clothes in my suitcase then dropping them on the floor because they look too ‘resplendent’, I sit on the steps outside the cabin and let my hair dry in the sun. Frida’s gone to Nils’s for dinner and I’m on my own. Music floats from the other side of the island. Is that ‘Guantanamera’? Otto loves that track. Nanna will be wondering where I am.

  I look down at my sundress and sandals, at my little blue bag. I don’t want to go. I know I said that I wouldn’t let Leo or Peeta stop me from doing anything, but I can’t watch Peeta running her fingers through Leo’s hair and resting against him … or Leo looking everywhere but at me.

  Somewhere in the distance, a horn blasts: the last boat from Stockholm. Why did I ever think one of my friends would be allowed to come out here, all on their own? Britta always says I’m ‘naively optimistic’, and she says it in a really annoying voice, like she’s my mum and I’m five … But what if one of my friends is on the boat? What if one of them is about to be dumped on this island in the middle of nowhere and is expecting me to be there, waiting for them?

  Naively, I jump to my feet. Then I dash into the cabin and grab my trainers (optimistically).

  If I run, I can get to the dock in time!

  I burst out of the woods just as the boat is coming to a stop. The steward jumps down and starts securing the gangplank. I scan the deck. A crowd of children wearing identical yellow T-shirts are leaning over the railing, yelling at each other. The low sun is shining into my eyes, but I can just about make out a dark figure, a girl, standing slightly apart from the others. I shade my eyes. She’s wearing black laddered tights, tiny denim cut-offs, scuffed boots and a loose white shirt. She has messy black hair and two thick silver chains hang round her neck.

  ‘Pearl?’ I whisper, amazed. My ‘pretty fit’ friend – who shoplifts, lies, and swears – has come all the way to Stråla! I stare, checking it’s actually her. She looks like a crow in a field of sunflowers. She lifts one hand, tucks in her thumb and wiggles her fingers, lazily. It’s our Ladybird wave, the wave she invented when we were five. Somehow, she’s managing to do it sarcastically. Mouth hanging open, I wiggle my fingers back. Pearl. Here? On Stråla?

  She sticks a cigarette into her mouth and heaves a huge sports bag on to her shoulder. As the children crowd to get off the boat, she pushes a path through them, her bag knocking into their heads. Then she stomps down the gangplank, walks up to me and drops her bag at my feet. Lighting the cigarette, she takes in the towering pine trees, the glowing rocks and sparkling sea. ‘God,’ she says, sucking on the cigarette, ‘what a dump.’ She blows smoke out of the corner of her mouth. ‘What are you staring at?’

  ‘You,’ I say, shaking my head and smiling. ‘You actually came.’

  ‘Yeah, well. Free holiday. Carry that, will you?’ She nods at her bag. ‘I’ve been dragging it all over Stockholm,’ – she strides along the path that leads into the woods – ‘the most boring city in the world.’

  ‘Wait for me!’ I call out, picking up her bag. I run after her as she disappears into the shadows of the trees. Whatever happens, I can’t let Pearl out of my sight for a second.

  She quickly fills me in on all the gossip from home. ‘Jake’s got a tattoo of a panda on his back because, apparently, he loves pandas. It looks like something you’d draw, and it’s got four eyes. I’ve been banned from Superdrug because I had a fight with Amber by the nappies … with nappies. They said we made a baby cry … which is a lie. The baby loved it.’ She pauses to flick her cigarette butt on the floor and I rush to pick it up. ‘And I saw Bea Hogg dancing in town, tragic, and your freak-friend Betty is going round wearing a beard. Oh, and Tiann’s going out with Levi. I just hope she doesn’t forget about Oy.’

  ‘Who’s Oy?’

  She stops and looks at me like I’m an idiot. ‘Oyster. My fish. He’s a clownfish. You know, a Nemo.’

  ‘You’ve got a clownfish?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She scowls. ‘So what?’

  ‘Nothing. I’ve just never heard –’

  Suddenly, she puts her finger against my lips. ‘Shut up,’ she says, tilting her head to one side. ‘Can I hear … ABBA?’ Her eyes light up and she almost smiles. ‘I can. Someone’s playing ABBA!’

  ‘It’s from the disco. I didn’t know you liked ABBA.’ Recently, Pearl stopped listening to R&B and got heavily into hip-hop and grime. That’s when she started wearing lots of leather and metal. ABBA really don’t go with her studded wristbands.

  ‘Everyone likes ABBA, Kat.’ She walks towards the music.

  ‘But we’re right by the cabin. Let’s get some food and unpack your stuff. Say hello to Frida.’

  ‘My bag will be alright here and your auntie can wait.’ She takes the bag off me and drops it behind a rock. ‘Anyway, I want chips. C’mon.’

  ‘But Peeta will be there,’ I say desperately, ‘and Leo.’

  ‘So?’ She starts to walk on. ‘What happened when Leo’s girlfriend turned up? Did she punch you for playing around with her man?’ She drops her head back and laughs at the idea.

  I catch up with her. ‘I wasn’t playing around with him. We just … went swimming and talked.’ I can’t tell Pearl how I felt when I was with Leo, or what I imagined might happen. Instead, as we walk along, I describe the conversation I overheard. ‘Peeta said I was “blåst” – she was basically saying I’m an airhead – and Leo just sat there agreeing with her.’

  ‘Ouch. What did you do?’

  ‘I marched up to them –’

  ‘And decked Leo?’

  ‘No! I told him I was entering Tuff Troll with one of my friends.’

  She laughs and shakes her head. ‘So what does he look like, this Leo?’

  I think about his curving mouth and his dark eyes that seemed to see everything. I shrug. ‘Nothing special.’

  Pearl is watching me out of the corner of her eye. ‘Clearly Peeta’s a cow and Leo’s a player,’ she says. ‘They both need to be taught a lesson.’

  ‘Oh my God. No they don’t, Pearl.’ I grab hold of her arm. ‘This is a small island. I don’t want any trouble. And I don’t care about them. I just want to forget about Leo and take part in this race. It will be awesome. Imagine telling everyone back at school that we swam across the sea to an island.’

  ‘They won’t believe it,’ she says.

  ‘Exactly. So forget about Leo and Peeta, this is about Kat and Pearl!’

  She grins and her eyes flash. ‘Yeah, totally … But I’m still going to get them.’ Then she shakes me off and strides towards the mötesplats, singing along to ‘Mamma Mia’ and taking swipes at the branches that get in her way.

  When we get to the cafe, Pearl looks around with narrowed eyes, taking in the wooden benches, the fairy lights and the spectacular sea view. A lot of customers stare at her too – she looks so out of place – but she doesn’t care. If anything, she stands a little bit taller, raises her chin fractionally. She likes being looked at. The sun has begun to melt into the sea and even Pearl is glowing a pretty pink colour. It’s good to be by her side.

  Nanna waves at us from our rock in the corner. She appears to be playing chess with a milkshake. ‘Who is that?’ Pearl asks.

  ‘My friend, Nanna.’

  ‘Nanna?’ She laughs.

  ‘Yeah, remember
you’re called Pearl.’

  ‘Nanna!’

  ‘You’d better be nice to her,’ say. ‘She’s my only friend on the island.’

  ‘She makes Betty Plum look normal.’

  ‘Pearl.’

  ‘OK. I’ll be nice … to the freak.’ She glances at the blackboard menu. ‘Get me some chips, will you? And I want one of those.’ She points at a green cocktail that’s being carried past on a tray.

  ‘They won’t let you have it,’ I say. ‘You’re underage.’

  ‘Kat, this is Europe. You can drink wine when you’re, like, ten.’

  ‘Not in Sweden.’

  ‘Then I’ll buy some vodka from the shop.’

  ‘You can only buy low alcohol beer in shops. To get alcohol you have to go to a state-run off-licence.’

  ‘Which is … ?’

  ‘In Stockholm.’

  ‘What? It’s Friday night, Kat!’ I shrug. She stares at me for a moment then rolls her eyes. ‘Alright. I’ll have an apple juice … please.’

  We weave through the crowded tables with our drinks. We know where we’re going: Nanna is jumping up and down and shouting, ‘Over here! Over here!’ We sit down and Pearl leans back against a convenient rock.

  ‘This is Pearl,’ I say. ‘My friend from home.’ I’ve told Nanna all about Pearl on our runs around the island.

  ‘Pearl …’ Nanna’s eyes are wide, like she’s meeting a film star. ‘You look amazeballs!’ Pearl slowly sucks her drink through a straw. ‘Just like …’ Nanna pauses dramatically. ‘Jack Sparrow!’

  Pearl stops sucking. ‘Are you saying I look like Johnny Depp? The pirate?’

  ‘Yes!’ Nanna grins.

  Pearl stares hard at Nanna. Every muscle in my body tenses, but Nanna just sits there smiling sweetly, like a kitten trying to make friends with a tiger. ‘A pirate,’ Pearl says. ‘Yeah, I like that. By the way.’ She points her straw at Nanna’s T-shirt. ‘That, I love.’