Minus Me

by Ingelin Rossland

  ‘Could you bring me some water?’ asks Linda, taking a glass from the bedside table and giving it to her friend.

  ‘Sure. Do you need anything else?’

  ‘Yes . . . stop letting me win at Ludo.’

  Maria takes the glass and goes. Linda sits there in her bed. She starts to tidy the game away. One of the counters falls to the floor and rolls under the bed. Linda swings her feet out onto the floor, but tries to get up too quickly. The world starts to spin. And as she hits the floor she is sucked back into another room and another time. A time when she and Maria could just have fun together. A time when Maria didn’t cheat so Linda would win at Ludo or whisper tearfully that Linda mustn’t die. A time that seems so far away now, even though it’s been only a week.

  Linda remembers lying on her bed with Maria, their feet resting up against the wall.

  ‘I’ve decided to start wearing make-up,’ says Maria, looking at her friend.

  ‘Why?’ says Linda, turning to face her.

  ‘Because I’m nearly thirteen! We’re going to be teenagers soon. Think of all the experiences we’ll have!’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Kissing boys!’

  ‘Yeah, but you started kissing them when you were four. And you and Markus are always kissing and cuddling.’

  ‘But when you’re a teenager you kiss more passionately, out of love and things.’

  ‘Oh, Maria!’ Linda rolls her eyes. She can’t see why everything should change just because you’re thirteen. It’s only a number!

  ‘Well?’ says Maria, rolling onto her side to face Linda. Maria looks so happy. And so pretty, too. Perfect Maria. She won’t have any problems being a teenager. She probably won’t even get spots.

  ‘You’re completely boy-mad,’ says Linda.

  ‘You bet! And we’ve got to go to parties.’

  ‘The world’s coolest parties,’ says Linda, getting drawn into her friend’s excitement despite herself.

  ‘And slow dance.’

  ‘And get periods,’ says Linda, mostly because she knows that Maria hates blood so much it makes her faint.

  ‘Linda!’

  ‘Okay, then. Go on language exchanges.’

  ‘Go on holiday without our parents.’

  ‘Go to college in America,’ suggests Linda.

  ‘I’ll be a cheerleader!’ says Maria, waving her arms.

  ‘And I can be President!’

  ‘No, you can’t.’

  ‘I can!’

  ‘Say something sensible.’

  ‘I’m not sure if I really want to be a teenager!’ Linda admits, biting her nails. ‘It all seems so – I don’t know – so difficult.’

  Maria suddenly sits up on the bed, looking extremely serious, and takes Linda’s hands in hers.

  ‘There is one very, very important thing, Linda.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘You have got to stop biting your nails,’ says Maria, keeping a straight face for a second before bursting into laughter, throwing herself over Linda and tickling her. Linda tickles Maria back, and they roll onto the floor howling with laughter and gasping for breath. The door opens and Linda’s mother peeps in.

  ‘What on earth are you doing?’

  ‘We’re talking very seriously about the future,’ Linda replies.

  Her mother just shakes her head, before closing the door and leaving the girls to themselves again.

  ‘Linda?’ says Maria, taking her hand. ‘We’ve got to make a list.’

  ‘What sort of list?’ wonders Linda.

  ‘A list of all the things we’ve got to do when we’re thirteen,’ answers Maria.

  Chapter 10

  Maria comes back into the hospital room. Linda hears the glass of water tumble onto the floor, and feels a splash of water on her cheek. She can’t be bothered to open her eyes. She just wants to go on sleeping here on the floor.

  ‘Linda! Linda! Wake up!’

  Maria crouches down next to her and pulls her up onto her lap. Linda opens her eyes.

  ‘Hi.’

  Maria hugs her in reply.

  ‘Your mascara’s running,’ says Linda, looking up at her friend.

  ‘I don’t want you to die,’ says Maria, hugging Linda even tighter.

  ‘Do you remember that list we wrote?’

  Linda lifts a hand and wipes away the mascara from under Maria’s eyes with the sleeve of her nightdress.

  ‘What list?’

  ‘The list of all the things we were going to do when we were thirteen,’ answers Linda.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘It just popped into my head.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘If I die, will you promise to complete it?’

  ‘But you’re not going to die!’ Maria shouts. Linda is suddenly aware of how hard her friend is squeezing her. And she can smell that she is wearing perfume. Maria smells of flowers in a garden in July.

  ‘Will you promise?’ says Linda.

  ‘We’re going to do everything on that list together.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ says Linda, closing her eyes.

  Maria hugs her again, but Linda keeps her eyes closed.

  ‘If you leave me, that list won’t mean a thing.’

  Linda doesn’t answer, but she opens her eyes and lets Maria help her get back onto her feet and into bed. Linda lies under the duvet. She folds her hands over her chest, and shuts her eyes again. Then she says, quite matter-of-factly, she doesn’t want carnations at her funeral.

  ‘I hate carnations,’ she says.

  ‘I hate you talking about dying.’

  ‘But I’m going to die, so we might as well talk about it. Will you sing for me, at the funeral?’ asks Linda.

  ‘Linda, I’ll go if you don’t shut up,’ says Maria, stepping back from the bed.

  ‘You can sing that one – “My Heart Will Go On”. You know – from that film we saw about the boat that was meant to be unsinkable, but sank anyway,’ says Linda, opening her eyes and looking over at Maria, who has turned away and is muttering the word ‘Titanic’ to herself.

  ‘The Titanic, yes. What happened to that glass of water?’

  ‘I dropped it on the floor.’

  ‘That was clumsy,’ says Linda, propping herself up on the bed and catching sight of the glass. ‘But it’s not broken.’

  Maria grabs the glass agitatedly, and heads for the bathroom. Linda can’t take Maria’s fear any more. Her own fear is enough – or is it perhaps anger that she feels the most? Or powerlessness? She doesn’t quite know what she feels, but whatever it is, it’s exhausting. Linda pretends to be asleep when Maria comes back. She hears her put the glass on the bedside table, and then feels a hand on her cheek. ‘I promise to sing at your wedding, on your eightieth birthday, or when you win a prize because you’ve saved the world or just because you’re amazing. But I’m not singing at your funeral, because you’re not going to die yet.’

  Linda doesn’t answer, though the word ‘whatever’ floats around in her head.

  Maria has stopped stroking her cheek, but Linda can still feel her hand there. She wishes she could open her eyes, smile, and tell her friend that it isn’t happening. That she’s not going to die. That there’s still hope. But she doesn’t even believe it herself.

  Maria takes her hand away. Linda hears her pick up her jacket and bag from the chair. She half-opens one eye and sees her friend take something out of her bag. It’s a medal. Maria ended up with silver in the diving competition. Maria turns and Linda quickly closes her eyes again. She hears Maria put the medal down on the bedside table before heading out of the room. As the door clicks closed, Linda stares after her and says: ‘I love you.’ Then she turns her head to the window and looks out. It’s snowing outside. It always does in February. After all, you don’t get spring in February, as her mother always says. Strange that she should think about that now.

  Chapter 11

  It’s their weekly tutor-group period. All the des
ks are pushed against the walls and the pupils have put their chairs in a semicircle in the centre of the room. The teacher has moved her chair in front of her desk and is sitting with her legs crossed. They’ve been discussing a class trip they’re planning to go on in May. Linda hasn’t said a word. She has nothing to contribute to the discussion. The class trip will go without me, she thinks. Linda hadn’t known any of the answers in Maths this morning. But that had suddenly been totally fine. And the teacher hadn’t made plans for her to catch up with the work she’d missed in hospital. It was as though her Maths teacher had already subtracted her from the future.

  ‘So, are we all agreed then, class? We’ll sell cookies, not hotdogs, to raise money for the trip,’ says the teacher, uncrossing her legs. She puts her hands on her knees and gets up. ‘And you should all calculate the number of boxes of cookies you think you can sell.’

  ‘Minus me,’ says Linda.

  It just pops out of her mouth, and she looks about her, as though she’s as confused as anyone else in the room about where the words came from.

  ‘Well . . . hm,’ says the teacher, with an awkward little laugh. ‘It’s a long time until May, and I’ve talked to your parents, Linda. And, well, perhaps you’d like to say something to the class? I mean about why you’ve been away for a week?’

  The teacher sits back down. One foot tucked behind the other. Does she need the toilet? thinks Linda. Or is that how adults always sit if they’re pretending to be laid-back, when they’re really shit-scared? Linda takes out the brown envelope. She’s had it tucked under her chair, waiting for the moment when she says – she’s not really sure what. Maria suddenly lets out a sob. Linda takes the X-ray out of the envelope, and entwines her feet in the same toilet-needy way as the teacher.

  ‘This is how my heart looks,’ begins Linda, gazing out over the class. She feels her mouth go dry and the sweat dripping. For some reason she is only sweating under her left armpit. The body’s a weird thing, she thinks, realizing that she’s smiling.

  ‘Wow!’ says Henrik, the number-one class idiot.

  ‘Twat,’ hisses Oscar, then flashes a smile at Linda.

  Yes, and that’s Oscar, my boyfriend, thinks Linda. Whom I shall love with the whole of my mangled heart. She stuffs the X-ray quickly back into the envelope.

  ‘But that’s just a picture. It doesn’t really tell you much. It just says that I have to take things a bit easy. But only until I get a new one . . . a new heart, that is,’ says Linda.

  ‘Yeah . . . like someone’s going to give you a new heart!’ scoffs Henrik.

  Linda acts like she hasn’t heard.

  ‘But actually, I wanted to tell you all something completely different. It’s my birthday on Saturday, and I’m going to be thirteen and stuff. So I’m having a party the day before, on Friday. It’s at my house. And everybody’s invited.’

  ‘Cool!’ says Markus.

  ‘But is your home big enough?’ asks Maria. ‘For the whole class?’

  ‘Sure. We’ll have it in my granny’s old flat. There’ll be a karaoke competition, and a disco, and a DJ and no adults. Will you all come?’

  ‘Yeah, sure!’ says Oscar, smiling and looking round at the others in the class. Everybody nods and says that of course they’ll come. Everybody apart from Henrik, who is staring at Linda with eyes narrowed like slits.

  ‘Okay, everybody,’ says the teacher. ‘Put the desks back, please. And remember; lift them, don’t drag them! Chop-chop!’

  Linda goes over to her bag and puts the X-ray in the inside pocket.

  ‘You’re lying,’ says Henrik, sidling up to Linda.

  ‘What am I lying about?’

  ‘About getting a new heart. My mum’s a doctor and she says it’s almost impossible to get a donor; I mean, somebody that can give you a new heart.’

  ‘I know what a donor is. Do you think I’m stupid?’ snaps Linda.

  ‘But you’re going to die!’

  ‘Henrik! Linda! Can you help clear the classroom, please? Well, perhaps not you, Linda. Henrik, you can put Linda’s desk back as well as your own.’

  ‘Because you’re going to die soon,’ whispers Henrik, with a sneer.

  ‘I can always hope some idiot meets with an accident. You, for example,’ Linda says spitefully.

  Chapter 12

  When the class plays indoor hockey Linda has to sit out up in the stands. She’s brought a book with her, but instead of reading she finds herself looking down at Henrik and secretly wishing someone could give him a hearty jab in the ribs with their elbow. If only she could have played too, then she’d have done it herself. She can’t help smiling at the thought of him doubled up on the ground.

  Oscar is running about down there too, with his freckled legs poking out from under his knee-length shorts. Suddenly he gives Henrik’s shin an almighty whack with his stick. Henrik howls with pain. Oscar shouts an apology, before looking up at Linda. He did it for me, thinks Linda. He’s really rather sweet, she thinks, smiling and waving down at her new boyfriend.

  Suddenly a pair of Dr. Martens boots appear beside her, and wearing them is a boy. Linda eyes travel up to his face. It’s the boy. He offers her his hand.

  ‘I’m Zak,’ he says.

  She takes his hand.

  ‘Linda.’

  ‘You’re the best,’ says Zak, sitting down beside her.

  ‘How do you mean, the best?’

  ‘At indoor hockey.’

  ‘No better than the boys.’

  ‘Being aggressive isn’t the same as being good. You strategize.’

  ‘How do you know that? How long have you been following me?’ asks Linda, feeling a sudden pang in her chest. She’s nervous of this Zak guy, and yet she feels drawn to him. Which is why she doesn’t get up and go, but remains sitting.

  Zak ignores her questions. He just looks at her. It’s the same look as he had on the tram and at the swimming pool.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asks.

  ‘Let’s go outside,’ says Zak, getting up and buttoning his long black coat. It’s the coat that makes him look like some sort of emo kid, along with his pale face and the fact he looks like he’s wearing make-up.

  ‘I’m not allowed. I’ve got to sit and watch.’

  ‘Just leave.’

  ‘The teacher will go ballistic.’

  ‘Nobody will say anything, I promise. Just get up and leave,’ says Zak, winking at her.

  Linda shuts her book and puts it in her rucksack. When she looks up again, Zak has gone and the door onto the playing field is sliding quietly closed. She stands up with her rucksack in her hand and gazes at the door. Then she swings her rucksack onto her back and very quickly, so she can’t change her mind, sneaks over to the exit.

  ‘Look, Miss! Linda’s leaving!’ shouts Henrik. She’d like to shove his face in dog turd.

  ‘Henrik, let’s concentrate on what we’re doing. Come on,’ says the teacher before blowing the whistle. Linda glances over her shoulder, and sees the teacher dropping the ball to continue play. So the sports teacher has erased her from future consideration too, thinks Linda.

  It’s freezing cold out. Linda stops on the steps outside the gym, pulls up the zip on her jacket, and puts on her woolly hat. Squinting in the sharp winter sunlight she catches sight of Zak. He’s over by the fence with his back to the sun. She walks towards him. As she gets closer, she can see that he’s playing with a lighter.

  ‘So, what do you want?’ asks Linda.

  ‘To remind you that you’re going to die.’

  ‘Thanks, but that’s really not necessary.’

  Zak succeeds in igniting the lighter and holds one hand over it, lowering it towards the flame and holding it there. Linda feels sure she can hear it hissing.

  ‘Doesn’t that hurt?’

  Zak doesn’t answer. He just looks at her as she watches his hand. It’s almost as if she can smell burnt flesh. He closes his hand around the flame and extinguishes it. Then he puts the lighter
in his inside coat pocket, before showing her the palm of his hand. It looks totally fine.

  ‘I thought you’d be more grateful,’ he says eventually.

  ‘Hmm. Thank you for saving me,’ says Linda. ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Well, yeah. But I was thinking more about the fact you cheated death,’ says Zak, looking away.

  Linda doesn’t answer.

  She looks down at her shoes. The toes are scuffed. If she’d polished them more, they might have lasted another year or so. That’s if she didn’t grow out of them first, of course.

  ‘Yes, death; the great mystery. It’s hardly strange that you’re afraid,’ says Zak.

  ‘Stop it.’

  ‘How long did the doctor give you? Ten months, ten weeks, ten days, ten minutes, ten seconds? Come on, how big was the lie?’

  ‘He said it might be okay. You said it yourself, I cheated death,’ Linda protests.

  ‘So he gave you hope?’

  ‘I might get a new heart.’

  ‘But then someone else has to die, have you considered that?’

  Once again Linda’s eyes wander to the tips of her shoes. Maybe it’s not too late to clean them, a bit of black shoe polish and they’ll be as good as new. Zak grabs her around the wrist and drags her towards the car park. She tries to tear herself away, but he’s a good deal stronger than her.

  ‘What do you want? Who are you, really?’

  ‘I’m your new best friend.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for a new friend,’ says Linda, digging her heels into the gravel so he’s forced to stop.

  ‘Admit it, you are a bit curious,’ says Zak, without letting her go.

  ‘I need to get back to class,’ says Linda, even though he’s right; she is curious, and she does want to go with him. It doesn’t really matter where to, she just wants to get away from school.

  ‘Why should you go back in there? Haven’t you noticed that they’re already treating you as though you’re dead? You’re not in the script for the future – that’s why they don’t give you any hassle.’

  ‘I’ll get into trouble,’ says Linda, feeling her resolve weaken. The grip around her wrist loosens.