Misty Falls

by Joss Stirling

  And so the game continued. We were closely matched when we both played our best. His disloyal friends were totally on my side, cheering my sneaky shots, booing when he exploited the weakness of my shorter reach and placed the ball just out of my range. At nine all, I knew I had to produce my best game to reach eleven points first. I wafted my T-shirt to get some breeze to my heated skin. It was Alex’s serve. He flipped it to my backhand. I returned. He smashed it past me but I jumped, twisted in the air and got a bat to it. I couldn’t see where it was going but, from the satisfying ‘pop’, I knew that it had reached the table. Whether it had bounced on the right side of the net was another matter. I turned to see Alex on his knees, having failed to get to it in time.

  ‘Did that hit your side?’ I asked.

  ‘Not sure.’ But he was. He was lying.

  ‘Come on, Alex, the ball just made it over the net,’ said Phil.

  ‘Ja, OK, if you say so,’ he conceded.

  ‘Only one more point to win,’ said Hugo cheerfully. I grinned at him.

  A white missile skimmed towards me as I stood with arms relaxed. Not again. I reacted quickly and got to it with a trick shot where I brought the bat up from behind my back. Hours of practice with Dad on my home table tennis set paid off and the ball arched sweetly over the net, hit the edge of the table to shoot at his stomach. He jumped back but couldn’t get a bat to it in time and the ball bounced off his—well, let’s just say it was a good job it wasn’t cricket.

  ‘And she wins!’ shouted Hugo.

  ‘With style!’ Phil picked me up and spun me in a circle. He whisked off the hat and threw it into the air. ‘Congratulations, Misty!’

  Michael ruffled my already ruffled hair. ‘Fantastic! You’re the new champion.’

  Slapping his bat down on the table, Alex approached. He held out a hand. ‘Congratulations.’ He looked as eager to take my fingers as I would be to pick up a wasps’ nest. I quickly shook his hand, registering a little flick of static as we touched.

  ‘Thanks. I always enjoy meeting someone who can give me a good game.’

  ‘You’re not what I expected.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Who are you again?’

  So glad I made such an impression on him first time round, I thought wryly. ‘Misty Devon.’

  ‘Are you at school near here?’

  ‘No, on my summer holiday from England. I’ve just finished my GCSEs—they’re a kind of exam you take when you’re in Year Eleven.’

  ‘I see.’ He appeared satisfied by my answer, able to dismiss me now he had worked out we were a year apart. ‘Well played.’ He rubbed the back of his neck.

  ‘Anyone else want a game?’ I looked hopefully round at the other boys.

  ‘No way, you’re too good. I’m going to join in the football.’ Hugo jumped over the edge of the veranda to the lawn. Jonas was organizing two teams for a quick five-a-side.

  ‘Good idea.’ Phil followed, then Michael.

  Alex made to join them then paused. ‘Do you play?’

  I folded my arms. ‘Not much.’

  ‘Maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t think my ego could take more humiliation today.’ He leapt down to the grass and jogged over to be absorbed into a team.

  Bopping the ping-pong ball on my bat, I watched as the football game got under way. The only people at the party not joining in were the female guests. There were no other girls my age so I stuck out on my own. Perhaps I should have said I played a little with my baby brothers? I then saw Phil bring Alex down in a messy tackle. Ouch. Perhaps not. With a sigh, I left my bat behind and wandered off to walk the perimeter of the garden. It felt a very male place even at Tarryn’s cottage. Being a single-sex school, they clearly weren’t used to factoring girls into the entertainment, especially ones that beat them. A smile bloomed from the inside, filling me up like the sip of a hot drink on a cold day. That had been one of my best-ever Misty moments. I’d have to tell Summer and Angel every detail of the match.

  It is funny how a good evening can quickly go pear-shaped and it wasn’t even my fault. Not really. The plus column had been pretty stupendous: Uriel had found his soulfinder and I had emerged victor in a closely fought game of table tennis against someone who so needed to lose. On the minus column, the list was fairly short: not being a girl with bags of confidence, I couldn’t summon the courage to mingle, and I felt shut out from the boys’ club atmosphere of the school. Both minor faults but it did result in me moving from quiet spot to hidden place, trying to look as if I was enjoying myself. I was an old hand at the vague ‘I’m fine’ smile and the continual finding of things to do, plates to fetch, drinks to top up, anything to keep me from having to speak to a stranger. There was no way I would ask Francie to take me home yet as Uriel’s situation was far more important than any little awkwardness I might experience. I was used to being isolated by my gift so being at the fringe of a party like this was not new. I found a spot on the veranda near the table tennis table where I had a good view of the lawn but was hidden from the other guests by the bushes in the flower bed below. Nearly everyone else had drifted down to the grass to take seats on the garden chairs in the late evening sunshine.

  The football match ended. T-shirts were taken off so sweaty bodies could be cooled; drinks were guzzled; light-hearted teasing of mistakes mingled with praise of the skilful. I allowed myself a moment’s awed silence as I admired the trim torsos on display. The quartet split off again, this time taking to some wicker sun-loungers just below my position on the veranda. They couldn’t see me, thanks to the flourishing camellia bush but, hey, I was here first. If they didn’t keep their voices down that was their lookout. I rubbed the condensation off the side of my lemonade wondering what boys like them talked about when they were alone. Call it a bit of harmless gender research.

  ‘So what do you think of Miss Coetzee’s guy?’ asked Hugo. The chair creaked as he kicked back and took a swig of his drink.

  ‘He’s great. Did you hear him mention that he’s a forensic scientist?’ Michael sounded very impressed. Most people were when they paid attention to Uriel; he knew so much but wasn’t in-your-face about his cleverness.

  ‘That’s awesome. I must talk to him about it.’ That comment came from Phil. I could just see the tips of his spiky ginger hair over the top of the bush and a few glimpses of his face through the filigree of leaves.

  ‘You still thinking of applying for medicine after Matric?’ Alex now joined in, the violin soloist taking up the tune after the introduction.

  ‘That’s the plan but maybe I should keep my options open.’ I saw a flick of colour through the camellias as Phil rubbed his face with a blue towel. Like many with his complexion, he had the kind of skin that went very red after exercise and he had left the match looking a bit ‘boiled lobster’.

  ‘And we all know how you love dissection in biology,’ said Hugo. ‘What you did with those eyeballs last week was just gross.’

  ‘I was thinking surgeon maybe but … ’

  ‘But maybe the world would be a safer place if you stuck to cutting up those already dead. Squish.’

  Phil wasn’t offended. ‘You might be right. I was kinda clumsy.’ He waved his plate-sized palms in acknowledgement. They did seem more adapted to swinging an axe rather than a scalpel. ‘But not all forensic scientists do that stuff—autopsies. That’s the job of a pathologist. There’s more to it than that.’

  ‘I think you’d be great at any of them—surgery, forensics.’ Alex weighed in on Phil’s side. ‘Don’t listen to Hugo: go for the one that really interests you.’ Just listening to Alex turn on his persuasive power and I would’ve been signing up myself at the nearest medical school if I’d had the slightest ambition to wear a white coat and stethoscope.

  ‘Thanks, bru. I’ll have to talk to Uriel about the options. I don’t think I have to pick for a few years if I choose the right undergrad course.’

  ‘Cool.’

  There were a few seconds of no chat as they downed their drink
s.

  Phil tapped his empty bottle. ‘What about you, Alex? How are the scholarship applications going?’

  ‘Not heard yet. Miss Coetzee thinks I’ve a good chance of getting a full one to do politics, philosophy and economics at Oxford or maybe law at Cambridge or Yale. She thinks I’ll be ready this year with my grades.’

  ‘That’s big bucks you’re talking. OK for some.’ There was a rustle as Hugo chucked a crisp at Alex. ‘So next year, while we’re left behind in South Africa doing our last year at school, you’ll be off to start your international career somewhere really exciting, with a whole new pool of American or European girls to date.’

  ‘That’s the plan.’ Alex’s smile, glimpsed between the branches, gave the impression he was ready to try a broad sample. My flimsy plastic cup split in my grip, spilling the dregs of my lemonade on my thigh.

  ‘Girls like that cute little English girl?’ Hugo continued, the group’s troublemaker. ‘What was her name? Misty Devon?’ My heart missed a beat. I hadn’t expected to find myself part of the conversation. ‘You know, the one with the … ’ He gestured to his head to indicate my curls. I could hear the glee in Hugo’s question. I wanted to spit out at him that I was more than a bad hair day, but that would reveal my position. I wondered if I could retreat before they noticed I was there. But if I got up, they were sure to realize I had been listening and it would look, well, plain weird, if I crawled away on my hands and knees. Someone might come out of the house and see. I waited with a sick sense of anticipation for the answer.

  To my eternal shame there was silence, then a snort of laughter from all of them.

  ‘Maybe not,’ said Alex coolly.

  ‘She kicked your ass at table tennis,’ Phil pointed out.

  ‘But that doesn’t make her the kind of girl I see myself dating. Far from it.’

  ‘Aw, don’t say you’re holding it against her? I thought her stylish win over you proved it was a match made in heaven. You need someone who can keep you humble.’

  ‘Maybe, but come on, guys: Misty?’

  ‘She struck me as sweet.’ Thank you, Michael, for that at least.

  ‘She’s way too young for me—and she looks like … ’ Alex faltered.

  ‘Looks like what?’ asked Michael. I withdrew my thanks as he egged his friend on to say something unforgivable.

  ‘Looks like she’s been put through a spin cycle.’

  They hooted with laughter.

  ‘That’s harsh, Alex. Not like you.’ Hugo was enjoying his friend’s sharp tongue. I wasn’t: I was bleeding from the cuts.

  ‘Harsh but true. No, if I date someone, I’d like it to be a girl who wouldn’t make me feel embarrassed.’

  Stuck-up feeble excuse of a charmer. I curled my knees to my chest, wishing I could vanish.

  ‘Misty? Misty? Time to go!’ Francie appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘Ah, there you are.’

  The boys fell silent.

  Francie could see me plainly from where she stood, as well as the debate team on the other side of the bush. Nothing else for it: I rose, pins and needles tingling from my cramped position.

  ‘You ready to leave?’

  ‘Yes.’ No bribe on earth would make me look at Alex. I could feel his eyes on my back like sunrays.

  ‘Not tearing you away too soon, am I? I have an early shift and Uriel’s staying on to help Tarryn clear up.’

  ‘No, I want to leave now.’ Right now.

  I’d forgotten Francie’s power to hear thoughts. Her eyes shot to the boys then back to me. ‘Oh.’

  Yes, oh.

  She scooped me up with a comforting arm around my hunched shoulders. ‘Take no notice of them. Sticks and stones.’

  ‘That proverb is so not true.’ I folded my arms over my chest, feeling as though they had started an autopsy on me right there, not just talked about one.

  She whisked me through the guests, not drawing out the farewells as she might otherwise have done. ‘No, it’s not. But eavesdroppers … ’

  ‘Yes, I know. I should’ve moved earlier.’

  ‘But you felt shy.’

  I had the first glimmer of humour about the situation. ‘Francie, you are so easy to talk to. You know what I’m going to say before I do.’

  ‘Ja, I often have long conversations with myself like that. Let’s take you home. Have a relaxing bath, play with your little cousins, forget about those boys.’

  ‘That’s what the doctor orders?’

  ‘Exactly. Distraction: best medicine there is.’

  ‘When I break the news about Uriel, I think I’ll have distraction enough for ten kinds of insults.’ At least I hoped so. I feared that the overheard conversation had burrowed its way under my skin like chigoe flea, a parasite that got into feet in tropical climates. It would lay nasty side-effects unless I burned it out of my memory.

  As predicted, the next couple of days were filled with celebrations. Uriel and Tarryn had long Skype conversations with his family as he proudly introduced her to the Benedicts. Curled up on the sofa with a magazine, I enjoyed listening in on the one to Crystal and Xav, which they carried out on the family computer in Opal and Milo’s sitting room. Xav was roaring with laughter as he heard about the twin confusion.

  ‘Please, you’re killing me, Uri.’

  ‘It’s true. And then Misty lost control of her gift. People were confessing left, right and centre.’

  Xav held his stomach. ‘No more.’

  Crystal elbowed him. ‘Forgive my idiot of a soulfinder here. I imagine it wasn’t so funny for you at the time.’

  Uriel’s lips curved in a smile. ‘It was ridiculous but I knew even then that I’d laugh later. Misty exiled herself to the parking lot so things settled down after that.’ He kissed Tarryn on the ear, then took a cheeky little nip at her lobe. ‘And then it got a whole lot better.’

  ‘So what are your plans now?’

  ‘We’re trying to mesh our lives together. First, I have my investigation to complete.’

  ‘Victor said it was going slowly.’

  ‘Far too slowly. I had already arranged to work with Dr Surecross this September for a few months to see if we can get some new leads on the killer’s identity. Have you heard of him, Xav?’

  Xav had sobered now the conversation had turned serious. ‘Surecross? He’s based at Cambridge University, isn’t he? What’s his gift?’

  ‘Deduction—connections. He might make sense of the puzzle pieces I’ve been trying to put together. At the moment it just seems like featureless sky.’

  ‘And how about you, Tarryn?’ asked Crystal.

  ‘I’m going to carry on teaching here at least until the end of the academic year in December,’ said Tarryn. ‘I’ve got boys to see through their Matric and other school commitments. After that … ’ She looked into Uriel’s eyes and smiled.

  I loved their total absorption in each other. Sure, they had a few issues to solve and needed time to get to know each other but their landing had been smooth after the minor turbulence on the way down. I couldn’t help feeling envious of them being so natural in their new relationship. A little bit jealous, aware I was on the outside of the lovey-dovey stuff between soulfinder couples, I put down my magazine and got up from the sofa to see if Opal needed any help with dinner.

  ‘There you are! How are you, Misty?’ asked Crystal as she spotted me walking through the back of the frame.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Really?’

  I knew then that Francie had spilled the beans to her sister that I had had a miserable time at the party. Tarryn must have tipped off Uriel and he had said something to Crystal—that’s how the jungle telegraph in our family works. I had to hope they didn’t know the specifics.

  ‘Yes, really. You know me: I carry embarrassing moments with me like a hippo does an oxpecker bird.’ The comparison was truer than they knew: the bird, a semi-parasite, cleaned the hippo’s wounds but also kept them open, just as the hurt reopened every time my mind circled ba
ck to Alex’s remark. ‘I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t have something going wrong around me.’

  Crystal smiled sadly. ‘You have the oddest attachment to weird natural-world images. You and Brand must share the same family gene for that.’

  I liked animals, was comfortable around them, because they couldn’t lie. The thought of my little cousin cheered me up. ‘He is the coolest two-year-old, Crystal. You’ll have to visit soon. You would just love to hear him imitate a lion. I can’t wait to see what he makes of the penguins.’

  ‘Penguins?’ asked Xav.

  ‘We’re going this afternoon to see them.’

  ‘Isn’t it a risk to take the animal magnet to a zoo? From what I’ve heard he’s an out-of-control Dr Doolittle.’

  ‘Not penguins in a zoo, Xav. Wild ones. This area is famous for them.’

  ‘Penguins in Africa—that is so Madagascar.’ Xav lounged back in his chair, ankle on knee. ‘Loved that movie.’

  ‘But these ones are native and don’t talk—or dance.’

  ‘They might if Brand is there,’ laughed Crystal.

  As we couldn’t all fit in the Volvo, Uriel and Tarryn drove in her car to Simonstown, home of the Boulder Colony of penguins. A seaside resort south of Cape Town, Simonstown wasn’t that far but Willow bagged the front seat with the age-old excuse that she got the worst travel sickness. That left me a place in the back row. I didn’t mind as I was entertained by Brand’s repertoire of animal noises. Just when it was getting annoying, he fell asleep with the suddenness only a toddler can manage.

  ‘Did you take his batteries out?’ I asked Opal.

  ‘It’s the car. Best sleep aid available.’

  Willow was in charge of the music, selecting tracks off my phone. By chance she picked ‘Lucky Strike’, batting me right back into the evening at Tarryn’s house. Put it away, I told myself. You won’t have to see any of the boys from the debate team again. They live in South Africa and you live in England so it’s as if it never happened.