Bjorn lifts up his palms. “Okay, okay. I guess since you’re paying us to show you around our beautiful country, we really shouldn’t turn you into popsicles.”
“It may give Iceland a bad name,” Nils laughs and jumps into the back of the Jeep with the girls.
I’m in Iceland?
Yes! This Gunna body grew up here. Iceland is her home.
Oh my god, so awesome! I’m in Iceland!
Bjorn turns to me, smiles, and shakes his head. “Tourists.” He walks over to the driver’s side and opens the door. “Where are those extra sweaters Father told us to pack for them?”
Father?
“Our father?” I ask.
Oh my god. It’s all coming to me. Bjorn is Gunna’s brother.
Bjorn tilts his head. “Um yeah. Do you have another father I don’t know about?”
I shake my head. Not anymore.
“Let’s get this show on the road then,” he laughs, and climbs into the Jeep.
I can’t believe I thought my brother was flirting with me. Ew. Although I guess that explains why I have such strong feelings of love for him. Like Lottie did with her brother, Berg. She would have done anything for him.
Even though I royally messed up that day and wasn’t there when Berg needed me.
No! Stop it! I’m not thinking about that. I’m here now. As Gunna. Not Lottie.
Bjorn yells out his door. “If you’re not here, let me know. Otherwise off to the glacier caves we go.”
I pause. Do I want to go with them? I could jump bodies again, or I could stay. I’ve never seen Iceland before. It would be really cool to explore it. And I could spend more time with that cutie Nils. I don’t want to fall in love. I just need to know that I can still attract a boy. I know I left Lottie behind, but the sting of Dillon choosing that boy over me still lingers. Was I not good enough? I know George liked me, but Swan’s body was dredging up painful memories so I needed to take off. Plus, I did choose this path because I wanted adventure. What better place to find adventure than in Iceland?
I take one last look at the striking waterfall, grin, and jump into the Jeep.
CHAPTER 27
Cheesy puffs, I’ve missed you!
“I can’t believe how bloody cold the waterfall spray was!” Curly Hair says when I climb into the Jeep. “My jacket was soaked!”
Her name is Bridgit, and she’s from London.
“Aw, come on,” Bjorn laughs as he pulls the Jeep out of the dirt lot and onto a small country road. “That wasn’t cold. That was like bath water.”
Bridgit shivers. “You Icelanders must take bloody cold baths then. We have this thing called hot water in the U.K..”
Red Hair nods in agreement. Her name is Camille and she’s from Switzerland. The details of Gunna’s memory are coming more easily to me now!
Wait.
Camille and Nils have the same Swiss accent. Does that mean they’re in Iceland together? Are they dating, or just friends, or… oh my god…are they married? They do look older than me.
Camille unravels her hair out of its bun. The color is a dramatic, copper red that falls in perfect waves all the way down to her lap. Her high cheekbones and thin nose are splattered with light freckles that look perfect against her pale skin and big, violet eyes. Even with this smoking hot Gunna body, there’s no way Nils would go for me over her.
“Nils didn’t think it was that cold,” Bjorn teases.
Nils shrugs. “It was cold but not nearly as cold as that time I jumped into that snowdrift in Zermatt with Camille’s father.” He shivers. “Now that was cold.”
Camille laughs. “That was because you were only wearing bathing trunks!”
“Blimey!” Bridgit exclaims. “Why would you do that?”
“We were playing cards, and we lost,” Nils explains.
“Man, that’s harsh!” Bjorn chuckles.
Camille nods. “Yes, but it’s a family tradition. Every time we get together for reunions, the losing team has to jump in the snow.”
Nils raises an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure your father lost on purpose.”
She shrugs. “It was your first game, and he is your uncle. I think it’s like a right of passage or something.”
Wait a minute! Her father is his uncle? So that means…
“You two are cousins?” I ask, trying to hide my glee.
Camille nods. “Yes. My father is Nils’ father’s older brother.”
I grin and want to fist punch the air. Yes! This is totally going to work out. Nils is mine! Woohoo!
Bridgit faces Nils. “So, you’re saying this waterfall wasn’t as cold as jumping in the snow?”
Nils waves his hand. “Not even close.”
She grins. “Is that why you ran through so fast you almost knocked me over?”
Nils mirrors her grin. “I was only running because someone decided I might be cuter when wet.”
Bjorn inhales a sharp breath. I don’t think anyone else heard him, but I notice his cheeks are pink. Seeing Bjorn’s embarrassment makes this body’s heart warm, although I have no idea why. A fuzzy thought nudges at my consciousness, but Bridgit’s squeal scares it away.
“Oh, Bjorn!” she exclaims. “There are some ponies! Can we stop? Please!”
“Sure,” Bjorn answers, his cheeks fading back to normal. “But Icelandic horses are a proud breed and will bite the fingers off anyone who calls them ponies.”
Camille gasps.
Bridgit frowns. “Really?”
“He’s totally kidding,” I laugh. “He doesn’t like when someone calls them ponies instead of horses. They may be short, but they are horses.”
It’s weird. It’s like I arrived with no idea of who I am in this body, but gradually bits and pieces are becoming crystal clear. It’s almost like I’m plugging my brain into a computer and downloading what I need to know about Gunna when I need it.
I twist around in my seat. “Do you want to feed them?”
Everyone nods but Camille. She’s biting her fingernail.
“Is that safe?” she asks.
I nod. “Oh sure. You just have to make sure your palm stays flat.” I lay my hand out as an example. “Just keep it like this and even if they nibble your fingers, it won’t hurt.”
“But it may wreck your nails, Camille,” Nils chuckles, shooting an adorable wink my way.
Camille examines her geometric nail art, and then shifts in her seat. “Well, perhaps, I’ll just stay in the car to be safe.”
Bridgit links her arm through Camille’s. “Oh, blimey, girl, you’re on vacation. You have to experience it all! Just put on your gloves and you won’t have to worry about the ponies nibbling anything.”
“They’re horses!” Bjorn yells.
Bridgit giggles. “Right. Sorry. I mean you won’t have to worry about the big, humongous Icelandic horses nibbling anything.”
Bjorn pulls off the road and onto a dirt shoulder. About ten feet down a sloped hill lies a barbed wire fence guarding a pasture filled with brown grass, the occasional jagged rock, and a group of shaggy horses. They see us pull up and trot over to the fence. A light, misty rain is falling but with their wooly coats and long tangled manes, the horses don’t even seem to notice.
A chestnut horse with a shaggy, blond mane hanging over its eyes catches my attention. “Look, Bjorn, it’s your long-lost twin,” I joke.
He waggles his eyebrows. “Ah yes, it’s baby bjorn.”
I chuckle. I like being Gunna. This is fun.
Bjorn kills the motor and turns around in his seat. “Okay, then, everyone out for the finger nibbling.” He motions to the backpack sitting near my feet. “Grab those cheesy puffs out of my pack just in case the horses want something other than fingers.”
Cheesy puffs? Lottie loved cheesy puffs. My mouth immediately starts watering. Maybe Gunna loves them, too.
I rummage through his backpack and pull out the orange bag. They call to me like a long-lost love. Like an addict needing a fix. I’
m the addict. And I need the fix.
I wait for the girls and Nils to climb out of the Jeep before I hug the bag to my chest. “You can’t feed these to the horses!”
Bjorn gives me a funny look. “Okay, fine. But why can’t I?”
“Because I want them!”
His eyes widen. “You want to eat cheesy puffs?”
I nod. “Yeah!”
He snorts. “Since when do you eat cheesy puffs? You’re allergic to them, and you hate them. I believe you described them once as ‘vile toxic waste never before seen in nature.’”
I twist my lips. “Oh yeah. I do hate them.”
Huh. How weird. Gunna despises cheesy puffs but Lottie loved them. What does that mean? Am I still Lottie? Only one delicious way to find out. I rip open the bag, pop one in my mouth, and let that tart, fake-cheese coat my tongue for a second before biting into that crispy cloud of puff.
I moan. “So good.” And I don’t feel sick. Gunna sometimes pukes. Some allergic reaction to the dye or something.
Bjorn’s eyebrows draw together. “You feel ok?”
I don’t answer. I’m not sure how I feel. I thought I left Lottie behind? I thought choosing this path meant I was no longer myself. I was no longer Lottie. But then why do I love cheesy puffs?
“Gunna?”
“I think I’m fine.” I grin. “But let’s really test it.” I stuff a handful of cheesy puffs into my mouth, like a squirrel loading up with nuts, and savor every little bite. I swallow and wait.
No reaction. Just happy taste buds.
I laugh. “This is awesome! I still love cheesy puffs!”
Bjorn chuckles. “I didn’t know you ever loved them, but I’m guessing by your reaction I’m going to have to share from now on.”
I nod and stuff another handful in my mouth. He reaches to grab a few and I slap his hand away.
Bjorn puts up his hands, and laughs. “Okay. Okay. You can keep your bag of orange candy. You have a lifetime of dye to catch up on.” He grabs crackers from his bag. “Hey, I know you were joking before about the horse being my hair twin, but really, does my hair look okay?”
His blond hair is now peeking out from the bottom of a gray woolen beanie. I think it makes his blue eyes pop, and looks way better than when his hair was wet from the waterfall and sticking-out-in-all-directions.
I nod. “Yeah. I think it looks cool.”
His mouth turns up into an embarrassed smile, and it makes me happy. The reason why I’m happy is right at the tip of my brain, trying to break through… but I can’t quite reach it. Maybe I’m feeling this way because this reminds me of Lottie’s brother dressing up for his girl crush? Bjorn must like Bridgit or Camille!
Bjorn climbs out of the Jeep, so I set down the bag of cheesy puffs and follow. Lottie may have let her brother down when he had a crush, but that’s not going to happen here. I’m Gunna now and I’m going to help Bjorn impress his crush any way I can.
Camille and Bridgit are huddled in the misty rain at the back of the Jeep. Nils is already at the fence, petting a very short, bulbously fat, black horse with a blond mane.
“You gals ready?” I ask.
“They really like lady fingers.” Bjorn jokes as he strolls past and heads over to join Nils at the fence.
Camille frowns. “I think I’m going to pass.”
“Why?” Bridgit asks.
“You heard what he said.”
Bridgit sighs. “He’s just being cheeky.” She glances at me and rolls her eyes. “I think your brother is scaring her.”
Oh! I bet Bjorn likes Camille and thinks teasing her is like flirting. I shake my head. I better fix this.
“My brother’s just trying to be funny. They really won’t nibble your fingers off.”
Camille blushes. “I know.”
She’s blushing? Oooo… maybe she likes him, too!
Camille leans against the Jeep. “Horses just aren’t my thing. I prefer watching them from a distance.”
“But you’re in Iceland,” Bridgit says. “Don’t you want to experience it all?”
“I’m experiencing exactly what I want,” Camille answers.
And I know what she means. I chose this soul jumping thing for the same reason. I only want to experience some things, like happiness and joy, and I will happily ignore pain and sadness and melancholy from a distance.
Camille waves a gloved hand toward the fence. “You two go on. I’m totally fine right here. Really.”
“You sure?” I ask.
She nods and grins. “Completely.”
Bridgit and I walk down the hill to join Bjorn and Nils. The black horse Nils was petting is now leaning so far over the fence that it’s blond mane is touching the ground and it’s roly-poly body looks like it just might topple head first right over the fence.
“I’ve never…” Bjorn is laughing so hard that he can’t finish his sentence. He motions us closer. “You’ve… got to… see this,” he manages to say between guffaws. He points to Nils. “Watch.”
Nils grins at us. “Ladies! Are you prepared to see something so amazing that your lives will never be the same?”
I almost laugh out loud. I have seen many something amazings and my life is no longer the same. But I don’t say that. I just nod along with Bridgit.
Nils looks the black horse in the eye. “Blackie, catch,” he commands, and tosses a cracker into the air.
The horse snaps up its head, follows the cracker’s descent with its long nose, and then catches the cracker in mid-air just like a dog catching a treat.
Bridgit claps. “Smashing, Blackie! Do it again!”
Nils pulls another cracker from the box, tosses it up, and the horse catches it again.
“That’s awesome!” I gush, all flirty-like. “Can I try?”
Nils hands me a cracker. I immediately feel a zing when our fingers touch and wonder if he does, too. I like the feeling, but then my stomach tightens. Nils is charming and cute, and I really like him, but I still don’t want to get too attached. I need to be ready to leave whenever I want.
“Here Blackie,” I say and flip the cracker up into the air. It soars up… and careens down, right past Blackie’s muzzle and onto the ground.
I arch my eyebrow at Nils. “Well-trained, you say?”
He laughs, a gleam in his hazel eyes. “I taught him that trick, too. It’s called Oopsie daisy.”
I giggle.
Nils tosses up another cracker and Blackie catches it. He grins at me, with that little dimple melting my heart. “It’s all in how you throw it.”
“Then maybe you’ll just have to teach me,” I coo.
I just know Nils would have scooped me up into his arms and told me how much he’d love to teach me if Bjorn didn’t interrupt us just then. Brothers!
“The others are getting jealous,” Bjorn says, pointing to the mob of shaggy horses straining against the fence trying to get closer to the food.
“We’re about to have a mutiny on our hands,” Bridgit says nervously.
“It’s okay.” Nils says. “I’m on it.”
He tosses a cracker at a chestnut-and-white paint squashed next to Blackie, but the cracker just falls to the ground and the other horses almost trample the paint and Blackie trying to find it.
Bjorn laughs. “I don’t think the rest of them know that trick yet.”
Nils shakes his head. “Nope.” He glances over at Bjorn and grins. “I guess there can only be one special horse in everyone’s life.”
I really hope he’s referring to me, and not to Blackie.
“How do I feed the others so I don’t lose my fingers?” Nils asks.
I don’t even have time to offer my help before Bjorn flattens Nils’ hand, places a cracker in it, and pushes him towards the paint. “Just keep your palm flat.”
Nils takes a step forward and extends his hand. The paint gobbles the cracker up before his next-door neighbor can.
“That tickles!” Nils laughs. He looks down at his hand an
d frowns. “And that’s a lot of slobber.” He looks up, grins mischievously, and wipes his goopy hand right on Bjorn’s jacket.
Bjorn howls and jumps out of reach, dropping the box of crackers. Nils sprints after him, chasing him around the Jeep like a couple of little boys.
I pick up the box of crackers and look at Bridgit. “Guess it’s up to us to feed the others.”
Bridgit starts at one end one and I take the other. It only takes a few minutes to empty the box, and I offer the last cracker to the chestnut mare with the frosty blond mane that I joked was Bjorn’s twin. The horse greedily slurps it up and then peers up at me. Her coarse mane is such a dense curtain that I can’t even see her eyes.
“No need to hide, little one,” I murmur, gently combing aside her mane and exposing warm brown eyes framed by thick, reddish-brown eyelashes.
She snorts, and her eyes widen, almost as if she’s fearful of what she can now see without her mane blinding her.
My heartbeat slows. I know how she feels. I was once only Lottie. I thought the worst thing ever was the pain and anxiety I felt. Then my soul pulled my mane back and shoved me into all those bodies trying to get me to feel and see everything. Like Mum’s pain in Morocco. And the bombing in Kabul. And my captor in Bangkok.
For a moment, I wish my mane had never been pulled back. I wish I had never seen all those horrible things, and that I was Lottie again.
The mare quickly shakes her mane back over her eyes, drops her head, and exhales a sigh.
“You’re right,” I whisper, caressing her velvety nose. “It’s better this way.”
Camille’s voice brings me back to the present.
“Is it snowing?” she asks.
She’s standing a few steps behind me, and I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t hear her approach or see the white flakes falling softly around us.
“Looks like it,” I reply, and raise my chin to the sky, hoping to catch snowflakes like Lottie always did in Colorado.
“But snow in April?” Camille asks in disbelief.
I laugh. “Yep.”
“But it was sunny like twenty minutes ago.”
I chuckle. “Well, you know how they say ‘If you don’t like the weather, just wait a few minutes and it will change’?”
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