Melt

by Ele Fountain

  The ground along the shore edge is mostly snow-covered boulders. They are exhausting to walk over and it’s easy to slip and break an ankle. I decide to head further inland. From there I will find a flat path back to the spruce trees.

  Using my harpoon for support, I climb the ridge separating the shore from the grasslands. It’s only a few metres high, but my leg aches with cold. The wind is almost strong enough to blow me over. It whistles around me, pulling at my clothes.

  I find it hard to think clearly. I must get back to the snowmobile. My food is there, and some dry clothes. I need to take my wet layers off as soon as possible. There’s no way I will make it back home before dark now. Maybe I can stay in the cabin tonight and leave first thing in the morning. I think about Grandma waiting for me at home. I think about her speaking to Tom’s parents and finding out that I wasn’t there last night. That I’d lied. Sami was right. This trip wasn’t the way to make Grandma worry less. I’m going to make her feel worse. Much worse.

  As I reach the top of the ridge, a gust of wind knocks me off my feet and I roll halfway down the other side. When I stop, I am lying face down. Snow powder has forced its way under my hood. I brush some more from my face. I realize that I am shivering. My body has started to cool down much faster than I thought. I reach for my harpoon and push myself up. Snow-covered boulders lie to my left, so I keep moving forwards. I must not stop, whatever happens. That is how you freeze to death. Maybe ten minutes later, the ground starts to flatten out, and it’s easier to walk.

  I look up for some clue to which direction I should take. I decide to keep the wind behind me. It was blowing onto the shore when I left the snowmobile, so that should lead me back to where I began. I start walking again. It seems harder work than before. Perhaps I am feeling weaker. I’ve had nothing to eat for a few hours. There is some bread tucked inside my jacket but I daren’t take my mittens off. I can’t afford to let any more body heat escape.

  Because I am surrounded by white, it’s almost impossible to know how far I’ve come, or how long I’ve been walking. There is no sign of the spruce trees. I’ve stopped shivering, but I’m starting to feel sleepy. I wonder if I should have a rest. My coat would make a good place to lie down. Instead I keep putting one foot in front of the other. After a few more minutes I come to a stop. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because my right foot is numb. My left foot is very cold now too. I’m tired of walking against the wind. Something deep inside my brain tells me that I have hypothermia, that this is how you feel when your body gets so cold you can’t think straight any more. I try not to think about what happens next to people who get this cold.

  Just as I am about to have a rest in the snow, I see a dark shape within the swirling blizzard. I stumble towards it. It looks like a small hut. Some of the wooden boards have fallen off. I find a door and push the handle. The door creaks open. My head starts to spin. I can’t make it stop, so finally I do what I was planning to do anyway. I lie down on the floor and close my eyes.

  Bea 5

  I pad down the stairs like Hester and knock quietly on Dad’s office door. Silence.

  ‘Dad, it’s me.’ I hear a rustle of papers.

  ‘Yes, darling, come in.’

  Dad looks up from his work. He has dark circles under his eyes. He looks tired.

  I sit on the chair in the corner. ‘Are you going to be working all weekend again, or just today?’

  ‘I’m sorry, darling, a big thing has come up. It might be all weekend again.’

  I chew my lip a little. ‘How about next weekend?’

  ‘Next weekend, I hope, will be better.’

  He smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They seem alive with a different energy. Almost like he is anxious about something. Uneasy.

  I potter back to the kitchen. Mum is busy doing something with flour.

  ‘I unpacked the last box of shoes and boots yesterday. I think your hiking trainers are too small for you. Shall we go into town today to get some new ones? We can see what other hiking equipment they have in there. You probably need some leggings too, or a fleece.’

  ‘OK,’ I nod suspiciously. ‘But no clothes shops?’

  ‘All right, all right. Hiking paraphernalia only.’

  We head into town after breakfast. It seems as if every other shop sells some sort of outdoor equipment. Mum suggests we try one of the larger stores because there will be more choice.

  I walk past the section with rucksacks and tents, to clothes and shoes, and start looking at fleeces.

  ‘The best warm, lightweight material is silk,’ Mum says. I look at her, trying to hide my surprise. ‘There are lots of high-performance man-made fabrics, but silk is still the best base layer.’

  She wanders over to look at boots. I stare at the fleeces for a little longer, wondering why Mum knows so much about kit. Perhaps the Venn diagram for shopping and more exciting pastimes overlaps in outdoor clothing shops.

  After an hour of choosing and trying, I have boots, a fleece and some brilliant leggings with skulls. I’m ready to leave, but Mum suggests going for a drink somewhere. I’m lining up my reasons for going home when I remember the kitten-bookshop-café. I can tell that Mum is pleased when I seem keen.

  We gather up the bags and head kitten-wards.

  Mum orders two hot chocolates with whipped cream. Her first sip deposits a giant whipped-cream moustache beneath her nose. I expect her to wipe it away, and then head to the loo in search of a mirror. Instead she pretends not to have noticed, even when two customers sit down at the adjacent table. I start to giggle. We try to decide which is better, a beard or a moustache. I say beards are better because they keep you warm, but Mum thinks moustaches win because you can change the shape to match what you’re wearing. Typical.

  I realize that most of the time I spend with Mum is at home, or with Dad around. We hardly ever go anywhere together. She doesn’t mention manicures once.

  Dad spends most of Saturday in his office. On Sunday he actually goes in to work.

  By dinner time on Sunday evening, days have passed since we’ve talked to each other. Lots has happened, but when we’re sitting down to eat, I’m not sure what to say. He doesn’t even pretend to smile. I don’t think my news is the right kind to cheer him up. Then just before we clear the table, his phone buzzes. Instead of ignoring it, he pushes back his chair, and leaves the room, staring at the screen as he walks.

  Ambush

  I like my new routine of schoolwork and library. It isn’t exactly fun, but it’s mostly buzz-free.

  As Wednesday approaches I feel the knot in my stomach begin to grow. I see Will around school, but never with Stella. I don’t know if they’re together. There’s no one I can ask. I hope they aren’t, for Will’s sake.

  On Wednesday morning I head to my locker before remembering that there’s no point. My chemistry book hasn’t reappeared.

  As I take my seat next to Will, I feel Stella’s eyes on me. On us.

  ‘Did you find your book?’ Will asks.

  ‘Not yet. Do you mind if we share again?’

  ‘Sure.’ He seems pleased. ‘Where is your accent from? I was trying to figure it out.’

  Before I have a chance to answer, the teacher starts talking. Today we’re doing something complicated with electrodes. Will helps me to set everything up. The teacher walks around and nods approvingly.

  ‘Can anyone tell me how we know if the gas we’ve collected is hydrogen?’ she asks.

  I put my hand up. ‘It makes a squeaky popping noise,’ I say.

  ‘Well done, Bea, yes.’

  Will smiles at me and raises his eyebrows. ‘Excellent answer, Einstein.’

  I decide not to tell him that Einstein was a physicist.

  After the lesson, Will walks with me towards the cafeteria. I can’t think of an excuse to walk on my own. Even though I would prefer to.

  ‘Which part of town are you in?’ he asks.

  ‘Over by the airport. My dad uses one of
the planes there.’

  ‘What, like flies it himself?’

  ‘Yes, for work.’

  ‘Have you ever been in it with him?’

  ‘He takes me with him when he can.’

  ‘That’s so cool,’ Will says. ‘How many seats does it have?’

  ‘Four.’ He looks hopeful.

  ‘You’re so lucky,’ he says. One of his friends waves from the back of the lunch queue. ‘Gotta go. See you later.’

  After he’s gone, I feel strange. Relieved, but also exposed. Apart from when I was Stella’s buddy, no one has really walked anywhere with me between lessons. While Will was there, no one made any nasty comments, or buzzing noises. Or if they did, I didn’t notice.

  In form time, the buzzing is now mixed in with squeaky popping sounds. So inventive. It’s mostly Becky and Lauren, but other people seem to be joining in if they feel like it.

  When the bell rings, I grab my bag, and head to the toilets. As I push the door, I am aware that someone is right behind me. Before I can turn round, they shove me towards one of the cubicles. My shoulder hits the door which slams open against the cubicle wall. Whoever is behind me forces me to my knees. I feel a hand on the back of my head, pressing it towards the edge of the toilet seat. When my chin is almost touching it, a voice whispers, ‘You shouldn’t steal other people’s boyfriends.’ It sounds like Lauren.

  ‘It’s not nice,’ hisses another voice I don’t recognize. ‘If you don’t stop, then next time your head will go inside the toilet.’

  ‘And we’ll give you a wash,’ says the one who sounds like Lauren.

  The hand lifts from my head. I hear feet running to the toilet door.

  I get up and lock the cubicle. I put the toilet lid down and sit for a few minutes. I feel cold. Seconds before I was sweating. My heart is pounding. I didn’t have a chance to react, now the adrenaline is making me feel weak and shaky. I feel ashamed that I allowed someone to do this to me.

  They were clever enough not to name names or let me see their faces. I guess that clears things up about Will and Stella.

  I unlock the door and walk over to the sinks. I stare at myself in the mirror. The face which stares back looks paler than I’d hoped, and frightened. I wash my hands and brush my hair away from my face. I realize that my hand is shaking. The spark of anger reignites in my chest. How dare they push me onto the floor. How dare they threaten me. Stella could have talked to me instead. If she had, I would have told her that I’m not interested in her boyfriend. It doesn’t matter if she is a coward though. I can still do the maths. There’s one of me, and lots of them.

  I take a deep breath and walk to my next lesson.

  *

  When I get home from school, I go straight to my room and sit on my bed. I need some space to think about what happened today.

  ‘Beatrice, is that you?’ Mum shouts.

  ‘Hi, Mum, just getting my homework out of the way.’

  Hester nudges the door open and pads over. When I don’t stroke her, she stares up at me with her big amber eyes.

  ‘Are you really the only living, breathing thing that is interested in how I feel, Hester?’ She sits neatly, with her tail curled round her paws. Her gaze drifts to the window and the birds outside.

  I know Hester has more important things to focus on.

  I play today’s events back in my head, over and over. I imagine Lauren and the other girl, laughing about how easy it was, how I did nothing to defend myself. It’s not nice. We’ll give you a wash. Their words echo round and round.

  ‘Bea, dinner time!’ Mum calls.

  I’m lying on my bed next to my unopened school bag. I must have fallen asleep.

  I walk slowly downstairs, just as Dad comes in through the front door.

  ‘Hi, darling,’ he says, and gives me a tight smile. He takes off his coat and shoes with a sort of robotic urgency. ‘With you in a moment,’ he adds when he sees me watching.

  ‘Still cold outside,’ Dad says as he sits down for dinner. He looks at the pot on the table. ‘Smells good.’

  Dad is chatty, but it’s a weird chatty. Sort of forced.

  I’m glad though, I don’t feel like talking at all.

  ‘Bea, do you have any after-school plans tomorrow or Friday?’ he asks.

  ‘Err, no,’ I say, ‘definitely no plans.’

  ‘OK,’ says Dad. ‘Only—make sure you come straight home, won’t you.’

  ‘After school?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why, is something happening?’

  ‘No.’ He pauses. Maybe he’s realized how weird he’s sounding. After a few seconds he adds, ‘I might be home early, that’s all, and it would be nice to see more of you.’

  My mum is looking at Dad with an expression which hovers somewhere between confusion and concern.

  ‘Well, it would be lovely if you are able to come back a bit earlier,’ she says.

  *

  The next evening, Dad is back super late. Before he comes home, though, he phones Mum to make sure I’m here.

  She doesn’t mention it to me, but I hear the phone ring, and Mum saying, ‘Yes, she’s upstairs in her room. We’re both fine.’

  So much for being back early.

  On Friday, I make my way to chemistry before the bell even rings.

  I sit down quietly next to Will.

  ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I think we’re just doing theory today. No experiment.’

  A wave of relief washes over me.

  I never imagined that chemistry theory could make me feel that way.

  We write for most of the lesson. At one point I accidentally catch Stella’s eye. She stares at me defiantly, with no hint of shame.

  When the bell rings, I make sure that I am first out of the door. I spend lunchtime in the library, then head to my final period. I watch the minute hand move slowly round the clock. When the bell rings this time, I wait for everyone else to go. Stella and her gang are always in a hurry to get home on Friday. I should be able to leave in peace.

  First I need to collect my textbooks. I haven’t been to my locker for two days. I couldn’t face any more nasty surprises. I take a deep breath and unlock the door. I look inside before putting my hand in. There is something resting on top of the books. I take it out and stare at it. It’s a jar of honey. It’s small but looks expensive. There’s a piece of honeycomb floating in the middle. Around the neck of the jar is an elastic band with a small square of paper attached. On the square of paper, someone has drawn a little smiley face in gold pen. I’m fairly sure it’s a gift.

  Maybe I should feel grateful that someone has left me a gift. Instead I feel annoyed. I don’t need people to feel sorry for me. I just wish everyone would leave me alone.

  Surprise

  I expect Dad to be working all weekend again, but he comes home on time. I still get the tight-smile treatment, then after he’s changed out of his work clothes, he knocks on my bedroom door and asks me to come downstairs.

  I appear in the kitchen to see Mum wearing a look of anticipation which probably mirrors my own.

  Dad follows me in, and walks towards the kettle, then seems to change his mind and ends up standing at one end of the table, as if he’s about to address a roomful of people.

  ‘I have to go away with work for a few days,’ he begins. He’s looking at Mum, but it feels like he’s talking to both of us.

  Is this why he called me downstairs? Hardly newsflash material. I glance over at Mum, who is looking at Dad with an encouraging sort of smile. She clearly thinks he’s lost it too.

  ‘I’ll be travelling about as far north as you can sensibly go. It’s just within range for the four-seater. I need to fly up on Saturday, then fly back Sunday afternoon, possibly Monday.’ I think I’ve adopted the encouraging smile now too. ‘I just thought,’ he adds matter-of-factly, still looking at Mum, ‘that it might be OK for Bea to miss one day of school and come with me. I think it could count as education. She’ll get to see parts of
the country which aren’t really accessible by land.’ He turns to look at me now. ‘I know I’ve been too busy to hike for the last few weekends. Maybe this will make up for it. A little bit.’

  The kitchen is so silent, I can hear myself breathing. I look over at Mum. She frowns and says, ‘Do you think it’s safe to go all that way in a tiny plane?’

  She hasn’t said no. There’s still hope. But only if I manage to keep my mouth shut.

  ‘These planes are some of the safest in the world,’ Dad says. ‘They function better in cooler temperatures, like most planes, and they have one of the best accident records. We’ll be safer than travelling somewhere in our car.’

  ‘Where will you stay?’ Mum asks.

  ‘There’s a small settlement nearby. Work has arranged for someone to collect me. I just need to call when we get there.’

  Mum looks at me, ‘Do you want to go, Bea? Is there anything important on at school, this Monday?’

  I must not sound too keen.

  ‘I’d really like to see some more of the wilderness. It would be so cool to say I’d been to the Arctic Circle. I mean, if I take photos then perhaps I can use them for a geography module or something.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Mum says. ‘Can you leave me and Dad alone to talk about this?’

  ‘OK,’ I say, trying to sound stoic.

  Inside my heart is singing. Mum only has a chat alone with Dad when she needs to iron out the terms. She’s going to let me go.

  I am going away for the weekend!

  Flight

  I sit on the bottom step of the stairs. My T-shirt is sticking to my back. I wish Dad hadn’t told me to wear my thermal layers. I know it’s going to be cold where we’re going, and it’s not very easy to get changed in a four-seater aeroplane, but it’s hot on our stairs. I take my coat off.