‘Alright! But I’ll come with you,’ says her mother, getting up from the table. ‘Dad can tidy up, and then take his girls out on a shopping trip.’
Linda pushes her chair back from the table too. She picks up her plate, scrapes the leftovers into the bin under the sink, and rinses it.
‘I’ll go to the shopping mall with Maria.’
‘But it would be fun for the three of us . . .’
‘Mum, I’m not a kid any more.’
Chapter 16
Linda is standing in the changing rooms. She holds in her tummy to zip up the dress she’s trying on. But she gives up, and pulls a face at herself in the mirror. What was she thinking? That she’d look good? For whom? Oscar? The curtain is pulled back and Maria is standing there, holding three more dresses. She looks at Linda and raises her eyebrows, signalling that she doesn’t approve of what she sees.
‘That is just so completely . . .’
‘. . . so completely wrong. I agree.’
Linda takes the new dresses, and hands Maria the ones she’s already tried on.
‘Don’t forget, I want to see you in all those dresses,’ Maria says, before closing the curtain.
Linda looks at the three dresses hanging in front of her. One is pink, which makes it a complete non-starter. The skimpy little green number is out too. She goes for the black one with a wide skirt, the kind that whirls around your legs when you spin round. She wriggles out of the dress she has on, and tries it on. Amazingly, it fits. She gives a little twirl. The curtain is pulled aside again.
‘Classic!’ says Maria, pulling Linda out of the cubicle so she can see herself in the big mirror.
‘Ooh, yes!’ exclaims the sales assistant as he walks towards Linda. ‘You look wonderful, darling. And I’ve got a petticoat that would look divine under it. Wait a sec.’
Linda smiles at Maria, and gives another twirl.
‘You look so grown-up,’ says Maria.
The assistant returns with a petticoat and practically shoves Linda back into the changing room with it.
‘You have simply got to have that,’ says the assistant when Linda emerges again. ‘Lots of people have tried that dress on, but nobody’s looked as stunning in it as you.’
Linda twists around, trying to read the price tag on the back. Maria comes over and finds it.
‘It’s a bit expensive, isn’t it?’ she says. ‘And how much is the petticoat?’
‘It’s only 250 kroner. Which isn’t a lot when you consider how much use you’ll get out of it,’ says the assistant.
‘It comes to 750 kroner altogether,’ Maria whispers to Linda.
‘I’ll take it,’ says Linda.
She gives a final twirl in front of the mirror before disappearing back into the cubicle to change again.
Minutes later Maria and Linda are walking arm-in-arm through the shopping centre, Linda carrying the big shopping bag.
‘Are you going to regret this?’
‘A really gorgeous dress can never cost too much! Wasn’t that what the guy in the shop said?’ says Linda, laughing, even though she’s already regretting it slightly.
‘Yes, he did. Now, what else do we need to buy?’
‘Some decorations and stuff. We can go in here,’ Linda says, turning into a gift-and-party shop.
‘What kind of theme were you thinking of?’
‘Theme?’
‘Yes, for the party. Is there a theme . . . like, say, spring, or love, or princesses?’
‘Definitely not princesses! Lets take a look,’ says Linda, walking between the shelves of paper tablecloths and serviettes. If she’s honest, she doesn’t know what to choose. She wants it to be nice, but all these serviettes and things just seem so boring. Maria taps her on the shoulder, and she turns.
‘How about fancy dress?’ Maria asks, peering at her from behind a pair of plastic glasses attached to a big nose and moustache. She offers a clown nose to Linda, who puts it on.
‘And with false noses, everything’s suddenly alright?’ says Linda.
‘Hey, you two!’ A grumpy-looking teenager shouts at them from behind the counter. ‘This is a shop. If you want those things you’ll have to pay for them.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ says Linda.
She grabs a packet of balloons and some streamers disinterestedly, and then heads towards the cash desk. ‘Can you choose some serviettes, Maria?’
Linda dumps her purchases on the counter and the grumpy teenager starts tapping them into the till.
‘Do you want that nose too?’ he asks, pointing his finger rudely into Linda’s face.
‘Yes, please. But I think I’ll keep it on,’ she says, backing away.
‘That comes to twenty kroner.’
‘Not too expensive for a new nose!’
They’ve still got some money left after their shopping spree. So Linda treats them to some ice cream. They each sit on a plastic stool, eating in silence. Linda still has her clown nose on.
‘Are you okay?’ asks Maria.
‘Apart from the fact that I should have chosen the pistachio instead of the lemon sorbet,’ answers Linda, scraping the bottom of her tub.
‘Linda, I just wanted to say . . . I was so scared at the swimming competition. I thought you were going to die.’
‘So did I,’ says Linda. She tries to throw her empty tub into the rubbish bin, but misses, and gets up to put it in.
‘But seriously, Linda, I love you to bits.’
Linda turns towards her friend. Maria’s barely touched her ice cream. And she’s sitting there with tears in her eyes. Linda feels a dark clump growing in her chest. This isn’t fun. Doesn’t Maria realize that all this crying just makes things worse? Linda has to swallow back her own tears before answering.
‘Please don’t look so miserable. I survived, didn’t I? And there’s no point being miserable before I’m gone. You can cry a bit afterwards, but not now,’ she says, trying her best to be gentle.
Maria suddenly bursts out sobbing. Linda takes off the clown nose and walks over to her friend. As she puts the nose on Maria, it hits Linda that it’s the second time in just two days she’s had to comfort someone. She wipes a tear from Maria’s cheek with the sleeve of her jacket.
‘Are you so ill you might die?’ Maria asks.
‘I’m so healthy I might live.’
Linda takes a piece of paper out of her pocket.
‘Here’s the list.’
Maria takes it from her.
‘Look, I’ve already crossed out “Bunk off school”. And I’ve put a circle around “Go to parties”.’
‘Why do you have to have such a big party? Wouldn’t it have been better with just you and me, and Oscar and Markus?’
‘As if!’ says Linda, rolling her eyes.
‘Yes, but . . . but is it good for you? I mean isn’t it going to be stressful for you to have such a big party?’ Maria asks, with tear-filled eyes.
Linda gets up, grabs her friend’s tub of ice cream, chucks it angrily in the bin and puts her hands on her hips.
‘I’m trying to put it out of my mind. And that’s really hard with you sitting there bawling your eyes out. Can’t you see that?’
‘I just thought . . . that list . . . is it really that important any more? Isn’t it a bit superficial?’
‘What’s wrong with being a bit superficial? I want a party. I just want everyone to be happy and to have a good time.’ Linda grabs the nose again and puts it back on herself. ‘Can’t you see I’m trying to cheer you up?’
Maria doesn’t answer. She just shifts uneasily, dries her tears and gives a sigh.
‘Nobody will mind.’
‘But I mind!’
‘Please don’t be cross.’
‘Why not? Are you worried that I’ll die if I get too worked up? That my heart will suddenly stop?’
‘Linda, don’t be horrid.’
‘Horrid! I’m not being horrid! I’m in a great mood. I’m wearing a red nose, I’m going
to make everybody happy, and we’re going to have an amazing party on Friday. Everybody will have fun!’
Linda can feel the dark clump growing and growing in her chest as she talks. If she’s not careful, she’ll burst into tears herself. So she swallows hard, turns around and marches off.
‘Linda! Linda! Where are you going?’ Maria shouts.
The tears have started to roll down Linda’s cheeks, so she waves quickly over her shoulder and walks straight through the shopping centre, and out through the swing doors, into the dark where nobody can see.
Chapter 17
Down beside the harbour, the carrier bag containing her dress slaps against her knee with every step Linda takes. Stopping outside a cafe she peeps in at all the people sitting there in the light. She catches sight of the semi-transparent reflection of herself in the window. That’s how everybody seems to see her nowadays; like a vague shadow that might disappear if they blow a bit too hard or say something wrong. Do they know how they make her feel? Her parents? Maria? Her teachers? Her classmates? That the more they tiptoe around her, the more she feels as though she’s fading into the distance. Disappearing.
She almost wishes she’d died in the swimming hall. Then at least she’d have been in the papers, like the girl in America. Linda can see the headlines now: girl’s heart stops in the middle of a dive or dramatic death-dive. But there won’t be any headlines now; she’ll probably die quietly in her bed, or in some other insignificant or boring way. Linda sighs as she stands at the window. Nobody in the cafe seems to notice her. It’s almost as though she doesn’t notice herself. The red nose is the clearest thing about her, and that isn’t even real. Linda is about to take it off when she feels a hand on her shoulder.
‘Hi.’
She turns. It’s Zak.
‘Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?’
‘You’re the saddest clown I’ve ever seen.’
‘I’m not a clown at all. I just make everyone miserable.’
Linda takes off the nose and hides it in her hand.
‘No, you don’t,’ Zak protests.
‘Yes, I do. Everyone feels so sorry for me. That’s why they’ve agreed to come to my party. Because they all think I’m going to die soon. And Mum gave me money for a really expensive dress. Nobody’s acting normal.’
‘Have you thought they might be coming because they like you?’
‘Hmm,’ Linda grunts.
‘Let me look at that nose.’
Linda opens her hand. Zak immediately sticks the nose on and does a little pirouette.
‘Was that impressive, or what?’ he says. ‘Reckon you need a clown at your party? A clown who can make cute little balloon animals? And who can make people laugh?’
Linda sighs, but can’t help giggling. It feels so liberating to be with Zak. He’s the only person who doesn’t act strangely because of her illness, who helps her forget to be scared.
‘Or would that be childish?’ he says, grinning and taking off the nose.
‘Wow, how did you guess?’
‘Shall I tell you a secret?’ asks Zak, whispering into her ear. ‘I’m extremely good at guessing things.’
Then he tickles her and makes her laugh again. It’s so good to laugh. It’s as if all the woolly, grey gunk inside her loosens and melts away.
‘You see. I guessed right . . . you’re ticklish.’
‘Are you any good with music?’ asks Linda, realizing that she’s forgotten to invite Zak to her party. The person she maybe wants to be there more than anyone.
‘Me? Sure! I’m good with everything!’ says Zak, thumping his chest with his fist. ‘Why?’
‘Then that’s your job. I need a DJ on Friday,’ she says, suddenly breaking into a wild sprint down the quayside. She doesn’t give a damn about all the warnings to take it easy; she just wants to feel alive. And when do we feel more alive than when we’re running?
Chapter 18
Linda stands there feeling amazing in her new dress, although it perhaps looks a bit over-the-top with the tiara Maria insisted on her having. Her birthday tiara. Today – or to be precise, tomorrow – she is thirteen. Zak hasn’t turned up, or rather he did turn up but he left again, muttering something about some other engagement. He provided her with a playlist and now her dad tries to act as DJ. He has put on a baseball cap and a pair of horrible sunglasses. It’s slightly embarrassing, but no one has commented on the fact that her father is the DJ, and the music is precisely as it should be: a bit too loud so nobody has to talk. The big creamy birthday cake would have been enough to keep everybody quiet anyway. Plastic spoons are scraping paper plates for every last crumb. Some people are looking greedily towards the cake-stand, wondering if there’s enough for seconds. Henrik is the first to pile more onto his plate, but once he’s started, everyone else follows suit. Linda can’t even manage her first slice. She mashes up what’s left on her plate so it looks like she’s eaten more of it. She looks at her father squinting into the computer screen, concentrating on Zak’s perfect playlist, trying to be the cool dad.
‘Your doing great, old man!’ Linda leans towards him and giving him a thumbs-up.
‘My pleasure,’ he answers, not lifting his eyes from the screen. ‘I’ve got some great tracks lined up, Linda. I hope your guests are ready to let rip.’ Dad looks up and grins.
Linda ducks down and pulls a carrier bag out from under the table. Then she gets up onto a chair and signals to dad that he should bring the music down.
‘I hope everybody’s had enough cake, because now it’s time to dance. Lower the lights!’
Oscar leaps over to the dimmer switch and turns the lights low. Linda reaches into the bag and takes out a miniature disco-ball and a torch. She hands the torch to Maria who switches it on and shines it at the little disco-ball, so that flashes of light scatter across the room, but mostly on the birthday girl herself, who is fixing the disco-ball under the ceiling lamp.
‘This may not be the world’s biggest disco-ball, but it’s time for some action!’ shouts Linda. But as Linda jumps down from the chair, she stumbles. The bodies in the room freeze. Linda steadies herself and shakes her head, making the tiara go wonky.
‘Don’t worry! Only joking!’ she says, laughing as convincingly as she can.
Daddy sends her an insecure smile before he turns up the music, and Linda shoves the chair to the side and starts swaying her hips. You’ve got to go for it, she thinks to herself, starting to wave her arms above her head too. Maria puts away the torch and does the same. Oscar and Markus are the first two boys to venture out onto the dance floor. But soon everybody’s bobbing up and down and singing ‘we will rock you’. It may be a really old track, but it’s brilliant to shout to.
As she jumps up and down, Linda can feel the necklace that Oscar gave her for her birthday dancing against her skin. And she can feel his gaze too. She turns to him, touches the little dolphin charm that hangs from the chain, and smiles. He smiles back and comes closer, his cheeks flushed. He’s right up close now. As a slow track begins, Oscar takes Linda’s hand. Linda looks around for Maria, and sees her nodding encouragingly.
But Linda pulls away from Oscar. She grabs an empty 7-Up bottle and shouts that it’s time for spin-the-bottle. Dad turns down the music, to the protests of a few couples. Henrik, who has glued himself onto Ella, does nothing to hide his annoyance.
‘Spin-the-bottle! How childish is that?’ he says, with his hand firmly planted on Ella’s bum.
‘Shut up, loser,’ says Markus, thumping Henrik in the back of his head.
‘Weed,’ says Henrik, pushing Markus with his free hand.
‘Everybody sit on the floor in a circle!’ Maria orders, sitting herself down.
Everybody follows suit, all apart from Henrik.
Linda kneels down in the middle of the circle.
‘New rules!’ says Linda, looking around her. ‘I’m the only one who spins the bottle, and I’m the only one who gets to ask the questions!’
‘They’re stupid rules,’ says Henrik, looking for support. But when nobody shows any sign of agreeing, he sits down like the others.
Linda gazes around the circle. Most people have already got their eyes fixed on the bottle, and those who meet her gaze are quick to look away, either at their neighbours or at the floor. Linda sets the bottle in motion. It spins quickly a few times before slowing down and finally stopping to point at one of the girls in the other class.
‘Sofie, if I die now, how will you remember me?’
‘Are you sure this is a good idea, Linda?’ whispers Maria.
‘Shh. I’m the one asking questions round here. Well, Sofie?’
‘Your dress, and how amazing you look right now,’ says Sofie.
‘Tonight doesn’t count. It’s got to be a memory from before.’
‘I’m sorry,’ says Sofie, biting her lip. ‘Er . . . your pink jacket. The one you had at junior school.’
‘You are soo wrong! I have never had a pink jacket. I hate pink,’ Linda says, preparing to spin the bottle again.
‘Am I out, then?’ asks Sofie hesitantly.
‘No, you just sit there.’
Linda spins the bottle again.
‘Tina?’
‘That’s easy. You put a worm in our teacher’s salad once. It was disgusting,’ says Tina, giggling, and making everyone else laugh too. Linda grins with satisfaction. She wants to be remembered for being funny and tough.
She sets the bottle in motion again. This time it stops in front of a small, skinny boy from the other class.
‘Kristian?’
‘Kristoffer,’ he says.
‘Oh, yes!’
Linda suddenly thinks that Maria might be right. Perhaps this game isn’t the best idea after all.
‘My name is Kristoffer, and I remember you pushing me into a pond in year 5. Then you told everybody I’d wet myself. And it wasn’t true.’
‘But you must have realized it was a joke,’ says Linda, reaching for the bottle. I don’t want to hear anything more from that wimp, she thinks. The blood pounds in her ears, and she can feel them going red. Typical.
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