He grabs a tree. ‘When you finish Tuff Troll, when you cross the finish line, triumphant, then you get your last sticker.’
‘And my fag?’
‘I am a man of my word,’ he says, thumping his chest.
‘See you tomorrow afternoon, Otto,’ I say. ‘Any last advice?’
He frowns. ‘Rub Vaseline on your thighs, crotch and armpits,’ he says seriously. ‘To stop the chafing.’
‘Well, OK!’ Pearl grins. ‘We’ll get a big tub right now.’
While Pearl stocks up on Lakrisal and other liquorice products that aren’t available in the UK (because salty liquorice is gross), I find the Vaseline. At the counter, Juni hands me a letter. ‘No glitter on this one,’ she says. ‘Much more sensible.’
I look at the handwriting and see faint pencil lines drawn under the address. There’s probably only one teenager in the world who would do that: Britta.
Later, after we’ve done some packing and I’ve helped Frida wrap up the jewellery she’s been making, I sit on the jetty and read Britta’s letter.
Dear Kat
How are you? I’ve remembered to feed Pinky, but I think she must miss you because she’s only bitten me twice since you’ve been gone. She’s lost all her fiery passion. The house seems big and quiet and it’s not the same without your pants and socks all over the landing, make-up spilt in the sink and the TV left on stand-by. I know you don’t believe me, but I checked online, and leaving appliances on stand-by can add £76 to an annual energy bill!!!
What I’m trying to say is that I wish you hadn’t gone away this summer and I’m looking forward to you coming home and adding £76 pounds to our energy bill.
I’ve told Mum and Dad to stop worrying about you entering this race. I reminded Mum that even though I’m the oldest, it’s always you who’s looked after me: you make me go to bed when I’m watching TV too late; when I failed my driving test, it was you who made me a ‘Driving Sucks’ cake – remember? And after I split up with Joel, you watched Mean Girls with me again and again. I tried to think of things I’ve done for you, but I didn’t get very far. I didn’t even ask Mum and Dad to let you stay here this summer. Big mistake.
So, guess what? I’ve done something for you! I’ve registered you for Cliff Hanger. Please do it with me. Mum and Dad are always running off and leaving me on my own. It will be fab having someone to talk to.
Lots of love
Titta x
As I put the letter back in its envelope, Pearl sits down next to me. ‘Your auntie says she’s going round to Nils’s place for “a quick sauna”, which is clearly not what she’s doing.’ We watch the sun sink towards the horizon and soon the last slither of sunlight is melting into the sea, framed by an indigo sky. Pearl shuts one eye and holds up her hand, like she’s squashing the last bit of sun between her thumb and finger. The sun gleams then vanishes below the horizon. She drops her hand. ‘The last bit always goes too quickly.’
Pink clouds appear from nowhere. ‘Now that,’ I say, ‘is a good sunset. Ten out of ten.’
‘Suppose it’s alright.’ She starts to pick rotting wood off the jetty.
‘How do you think we’re going to do tomorrow?’
‘We’ll probably beat everyone and get the best time ever. They’ll put up statues in our honour and Wild Kat will go on display at the cafe.’
‘Or we might die,’ I say. ‘Look how far away it is, Pearl.’ I point at Fejan. ‘What was I thinking dragging you all the way out here just to help me prove I could do some ridiculously hard race?’
‘Shut up, Kat. It’s one kilometre away – we’ve swum further than that – and Otto said he’ll have a support boat next to us all the way.’ She flicks a bit of wood into the sea.
‘We could drop out.’
‘No way. I want my last sticker. Tomorrow we are taking part in Tuff Troll. It’s happening, Kat. Accept it.’ The violet clouds have become thin wisps. One by one, they fade away.
‘And then …’ I say.
She wriggles her toes in the water. ‘Then we’re going home.’
NINETEEN
‘Kat, you idiot, you pricked me!’
At the last minute, Pearl has been struck with pre-race jitters. She’s been fine all day, lounging on the jetty and eating cinnamon buns – apparently bulking up on carbs for the race – but since we arrived at the mötesplats, she’s fallen apart. In the fast few minutes, she’s sworn at Otto, hit me and called Nanna a freak. ‘If Otto would let me be number seven, I’d feel fine,’ she says. I’m pinning her race number to her back. We’re numbers thirteen and fourteen. Obviously, I’m thirteen.
‘There’s already a number seven,’ I say. ‘Look. There he is.’ An athletic Swede strides past us in a skintight triathlon suit. He looks like a superhero. All day, the ferry has been dropping off contestants and a crowd of spectators.
‘Why are people staring at us?’ asks Pearl, scowling at a girl who makes the mistake of glancing in our direction.
‘It could be because we look so intimidating and sporty … Or maybe it’s the massive Union Jacks you painted on our faces.’
‘Yeah, well, we look awesome. They look like losers.’
I think they pretty much look like winners. All around us, fit blonde teenagers stretch out muscles, chat tactics and sip water. I’m worried, of course I am, but being brave for Pearl is helping me stay calm. Pearl rubs a bit more Vaseline under her arms. ‘Talk me through it one more time,’ she says.
‘We run around Stråla, five kilometres.’
‘Easy.’
‘Exactly. Then we get in the sea and swim one kilometre to Fejan. You’re wearing your costume?’ Pearl twangs the strap under her vest. Everyone around us is dressed in high-performance fabric, but we’re in our usual mix of spotty shorts, harem pants and tie-dye.
‘And Wild Kat will be waiting for us there.’ Pearl says. She knows it all really. We’ve been through it so many times. ‘Then we kayak back to Stråla and win the race.’
‘Ha!’
‘Well, we win a sticker. Why are we doing this, Kat?’
I look around. Nanna and Sören are arguing over who gets to be number twenty and, over by the cafe, Peeta and Leo are having an intense conversation. ‘I can’t even remember now,’ I say. ‘But you wouldn’t be here with me if we weren’t entering Tuff Troll, and this summer’s been amazing, hasn’t it?’ Pearl looks grim, but she nods. ‘Dad says he races for the story. We’re going to have a good story to tell when we get home.’
‘Ta era platser!’ shouts Otto.
‘What’s he saying?’ Pearl grabs my arm as everyone goes towards the start line.
‘Take your places.’
‘Oh, God!’
Otto moves through the crowd, checking everyone is ready. He puts his hand on Pearl’s shoulder. ‘Find the zone,’ he says. She nods. There is a flurry of last-minute stretching and bottles and T-shirts are dumped in a pile along with our tub of Vaseline. We find a place to stand in the middle of the group.
‘Where’s my zone?’ Pearl hisses. ‘I can’t find it.’
I hold her hand. ‘I’m your zone,’ I tell her, hoping I sound much braver than I feel.
‘Great,’ she says sarcastically, but she squeezes my fingers.
Otto holds a horn above his head. ‘On your mark.’ He pauses and all around us teenagers drop down and crouch in athletic positions. ‘Get set … Go!’ He blasts the horn and we surge forward with the crowd.
‘Go?’ shouts Pearl as we jostle for space.
‘Go. Go!’ I yell, dropping her hand. We run into the woods, competitors streaming past us on all sides, pushing and shoving, and in minutes, Pearl and I are at the back. As we pass the campsite, Nanna glances over her shoulder, gives us an apologetic wave and then disappears round a corner. We run on alone.
‘We knew we’d be left behind,’ I say.
‘I know. I just didn’t realise it would happen so quickly,’ says Pearl. ‘Are we even going the right way?’
‘Yes. We follow the purple arrows.’
The route is lined with spectators. A lot of them know us – both holidaymakers and islanders – and they call out our names and cheer us on. We have to run twice round the island then cut across the middle. It doesn’t take long for the other contestants to lap us. First, Peeta and Leo run past, then Nanna and Sören. Nanna grins at us and does a bit of Creeping Elf and Windmilling to make us laugh, but when she sees Sören getting ahead she dashes off in her usual horsey style. Soon, we’ve done our laps and are back at the mötesplats and running to the guest harbour.
Otto’s in his motor boat waiting for us. ‘Get in the water, girls!’ he calls through a loud hailer. ‘I’ve got to check on the other swimmers, but I’ll be right back.’ The boat zooms off with a roar, bouncing over the surface of the sea. We pull off our clothes and trainers and chuck them to Frida.
‘Energy gel,’ says Frida, forcing us to drink a sachet of sugary gloop. Then we put on our goggles and run to the end of the jetty.
‘Remember the story of the hare and the tortoise!’ Nils calls as we climb into the sea.
‘Great,’ says Pearl. ‘We’re tortoises.’
‘But if all the other competitors fall asleep,’ I say, ‘we stand a chance of winning.’
‘Right,’ she says. ‘Now, shut up and swim.’
We plunge into the water and go straight into front crawl, keeping our faces down and breathing every three strokes, just like Otto taught us. We swim round the edge of Stråla, following the swimmers at the very back of the group, but soon they are just spots in the sea and we lose sight of them at the tip of the island. Then it’s just the two of us heading across the open water towards Fejan.
After five minutes, we take a break from front crawl and do backstroke for a while. Then we switch to breaststroke. ‘Where’s Otto?’ I call to Pearl.
‘Can’t talk,’ she says. ‘Concentrating.’
‘It’s weird,’ I say, looking around. ‘I can’t see any support boats. Otto said he’d be next to us the whole way.’ The sun beats down on my head, but the water is deliciously cool on my shoulders. ‘Hey, Pearl,’ I say.
‘What?’
‘We’re in the middle of the sea!’
‘Shh … don’t want to think about it.’
‘This is alright, isn’t it?’
But Pearl doesn’t answer because suddenly she screams, grabs me round my neck and tries to climb on my head. I go under the water and desperately try to kick my way up, all the time pushing her off. ‘Something touched me!’ she yells. ‘Something touched me!’
‘Let go,’ I shout, but she just clings on even tighter. ‘It’s just a –’ down I go again, but I splutter back to the surface and gasp – ‘fish!’
‘Gross, gross!’ she cries as I finally manage to peel her from my shoulders. She swims in frantic circles, staring down into the water. ‘It was massive. Can you see it? It sucked my toe!’
‘It’s a fish! A fish, Pearl.’ I cough up the salty water I swallowed. ‘You love fish, remember? It’s a big Oy.’
We tread water and try to get our breathing under control. ‘A fish?’ she gasps. ‘Yeah, OK. Yeah. Do you get sharks round here?’
‘No.’ I haven’t got a clue.
‘Right.’ She takes a deep breath and pushes back her hair. Our feet paddle away under the water. ‘Where are we?’
I look around. ‘That’s Stråla,’ I say, pointing to the largest island, ‘and we are supposed to be there.’ I point ahead. ‘So let’s go.’
‘Sorry,’ she says, as we swim for the island.
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘It sucked my foot.’
‘It was a fish.’
‘A big fish.’
‘Swim!’
When we get to Fejan, we scramble out of the sea and look around for the purple arrows. All the other contestants are long gone. ‘I can’t see any,’ I say, running from tree to tree. ‘Otto said the arrows would guide us to the kayaks. We must have come out on the wrong beach.’ Pearl joins me, lifting up branches and peering under leaves. ‘Come on. If we follow the path round the island, we’ll find the kayaks.’
We run side by side, looking for the purple arrows or our kayak sitting on a beach. Somehow, we lose the path and have to scramble down the side of a slope. I trip and grab at a rock to stop myself falling. ‘Wait for me,’ I call to Pearl, as I try to get my balance.
And that’s when I see it …
Wedged between two rocks is a flip-flop. A pink Miss Selfridge flip-flop. ‘Oh my God …’ I reach out and flick it to check it’s really there.
‘What?’ Pearl turns round.
‘I’ve done a bad thing,’ I say, still staring at the flip-flop. ‘We’re not on Fejan, Pearl. We’re on Vilda. Look.’ I point out to sea. In the distance we can see another island, almost identical to Vilda. Moving away from it are a line of bright kayaks. ‘That’s Fejan.’
‘No,’ she says, shading her eyes.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘We’re on the wrong island?’ She drops to the ground. ‘We’re on the wrong freakin’ island! We’ll have to stay here until they come looking for us. We’re not going to do it, Kat. She puts her head in her hands. I’m such an idiot. ‘I actually thought we would!’ I scramble down to her and put a hand on her shaking shoulders. ‘Get off,’ she says, twisting away from me.
‘We are going to do it.’ I push past her and half walk, half slide to the bottom of the hill. Then I run across the beach and keep going, straight into the sea.
‘Kat, what are you doing?’ Pearl runs after me.
Waves surge around my legs. ‘Swimming to Fejan.’
‘But I can’t. I’m too tired.’
‘You’re not coming,’ I say. ‘I’m going on my own.’ The water is up to my waist now. I keep wading forward. ‘It’s less than a kilometre away. I can do it easily. Then I’m going to get the kayak, come back here, pick you up and we are going to finish Tuff Troll.’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ Pearl stands on a rock. ‘It’s too dangerous!’
Before Pearl can change my mind, I dive under the water and start swimming. Her insults drift across the water, increasing in rudeness the further I get from the shore. The last thing I hear her yell is, ‘If you don’t get your ass back here, I’m going to … ’ Then her cries fade away and all I can hear is splashing water and the sound of my blood roaring in my ears.
Every twenty strokes, I look up and check I’m heading in the right direction. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice. It’s harder than the swim to Vilda. Much harder. I’m not even halfway there, when my legs start to feel heavy in the water, but I don’t think about it. I count my breaths, make my arms work and try, desperately, to find my zone.
I imagine myself from above, swimming in the middle of the ocean. A thing. A speck. I watch myself moving through the vast water and I remember when I was nine and Britta and I were allowed to swim alone to the bathing platform on the lake, my mum and dad watching from the shore. It was such an adventure. But I got tired, and I was scared that I couldn’t make it, so Britta told me what French kissing was to distract me. She even did sound effects. Before I knew it, my fingers were touching the slippery wood and Britta was on the platform, hauling me up behind her. We stood side by side and waved at Mum and Dad. Right then, I knew that if I could swim to the platform, I could do anything!
And I was right. Fejan is getting closer, stroke by stroke. I can do anything! I force my arms and legs on and imagine I can see Britta’s ponytail just ahead of me in the water. I might be a speck, but I’m a mighty speck! All around me, sun sparkles on the water, and I actually start to enjoy being all alone on the sea.
My zone is rudely interrupted by the roar of an engine. I look up and see one of the support boats heading towards me. Otto’s at the wheel and he looks furious. He pulls the boat in an arc, stopping a few metres away. Waves wash over me and I abandon my stroke and tread water. ‘Wher
e the hell have you been?’ Otto’s pale and I can see sweat beading on his forehead. ‘Where’s Pearl?’ his voice rises.
‘On Vilda,’ I say. ‘She’s fine.’
He lets out a huge sigh. ‘Vilda? What’s she doing on Vilda?’
‘We swam to the wrong island.’
‘What?’ he says, slapping the wheel and almost laughing. ‘Come on.’ He reaches his arm out towards me. ‘Get in.’
‘No,’ I say, paddling a few metres away from him.
‘I said, get in. You broke the first rule of swimming, Kat: never swim alone. I have six boats out looking for you. Leo finished the race, then went straight back out. Everyone is worried sick.’
‘I’m minutes away from Fejan,’ I say, turning away. ‘I can do it!’ I start to swim towards the island.
‘You made a mistake. Admit it and get in the bloody boat.’
‘I made a mistake?’ I yell over my shoulder. ‘Follow the purple flags, you said. There’ll be support boats everywhere!’
‘There were, there are! But you and Pearl just disappeared.’ He falls quiet for a moment. ‘I suppose it might have been my fault. I was meant to stay with the last swimmers – you and Pearl – but I went ahead to check on the main group. Someone was in difficulty, so I sent Victor back to the end of the race, but he didn’t realise you two were so far behind. When I took over, you had disappeared …’
‘You lost us!’
‘I know. But I didn’t think you would swim to the wrong island.’ I hear Otto speaking into his walkie-talkie and then the boat splutters into life.
‘I’m not getting in the boat, Otto.’ I keep swimming.
‘No, I can see that, but I’m not letting you out of my sight. Do you want water?’
‘No. You might try and drag me on board.’
‘Bloody stupid girl.’
Twenty painful, exhausting minutes later, I crawl on to a flat grey rock and flop on my back. I was doggy-paddling by the end. ‘You OK?’ Otto shouts from the boat.
‘Everything … wobbly,’ I whisper.
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