Summer would be proud of me figuring that one out for myself.
We drove into Simonstown, taking a road that ran parallel to the railway track. Beyond that, just a stone’s throw away, was the sea. The wind was strong, whipping white crests on the waves. The water’s surface was streaked: glass green in the shallows where the sun hit, dark emerald when cloud shadows passed, navy blue over rocks and seaweed clumps.
As we approached the centre, I decided that the town looked a very unlikely place to have penguins. The shops, houses and restaurants were a run of ornate white wooden facades, elegant balconies and covered porches. The marina bristled with pleasure craft and beyond that lay the rather more serious blunt silhouettes of destroyers belonging to the South African navy. The town had that cheerful but overwrought holiday atmosphere that most seaside places can’t shake off even in winter—a shade too many flags and promises of fun that aren’t quite delivered.
‘Where are the penguins?’ I asked.
Opal spotted a rare parking spot and pounced. ‘By the sea, of course. They’re in a nature reserve.’
‘You mean to protect them from the tourists?’
‘Actually, it could well be the other way round. They might look cute but they bite.’
‘Peck,’ corrected Willow with all the authority of someone who had recently done a school project on the subject. ‘They don’t have teeth.’
‘Cool.’
Eager to see the vicious birdlife of Simonstown, I got out and prepared the pushchair as Opal ladled a sleeping Brand from car seat to buggy. Willow fetched the changing bag and Hazel his drink, making it our record-breaker for parking to being ready to go, easily a match for a Formula One tyre change on a Grand Prix pit stop. I christened ours the Formula Milk race.
I propelled the pushchair along with thoughts of my favourite drivers whizzing round my brain circuitry. Brand slept through the rattling ride while Opal held her daughters’ hands tightly for the walk along the seafront to the kiosk. There were far too many temptations for the girls to continue in a straight line. The windows in the parade were full of happy-looking penguin souvenirs, socks, hats, stickers and—my top choice—a ‘Beware of the Penguin’ sign. I’d have to get that for my little brother Sunny.
Finally we arrived at our destination to see Uriel waiting outside the sanctuary.
‘I’ve already bought the tickets,’ he said when we approached.
‘Oh, you shouldn’t have,’ protested Opal.
‘It’s my pleasure after all you’ve done for me.’ He gestured over his shoulder. ‘Tarryn and Alex are in the shop.’
Tarryn and Alex. ‘What’s he doing here?’ I blurted out.
Uriel gave me a warning look. ‘Tarryn invited him, Misty. He’s a boarder and she thought he’d like to escape the school for an afternoon.’
So she invited him and spoiled my day. ‘Why did she think that a good idea? Is he a penguin enthusiast or something?’ I couldn’t imagine Mr Gorgeous-and-Sophisticated enjoying a kiddie expedition.
Uriel held me back as the others entered. He glanced into the building to check we weren’t overheard. ‘Be nice to him, please.’
I wanted to say something childish like ‘I will if he will’ but instead I settled for the more mature, ‘I had no intention of being anything else.’
Uriel did not look convinced. ‘I heard you didn’t hit it off at the barbecue.’
‘I was perfectly polite to him.’ I crossed my arms. It was outside of enough to have to defend myself when I was the injured party.
‘You beat him at table tennis.’ So Francie hadn’t mentioned the overheard comment—that was a relief.
‘What was I supposed to do? Let him win?’ I snorted.
‘No, but you don’t know how boys are—he’s probably been teased non-stop since.’
‘Do him good.’
Uriel reached for his patience. ‘Just give him a break, OK? For my sake.’
‘For you, yes.’ For Alex, not likely.
We entered the kiosk that led out to the nature reserve. Alex stood a little to one side of my family.
‘Hi!’ I said, a shade too brightly considering we had last seen each other moments after the spin cycle comment. See, Uriel, I felt like saying, I can be saintly too. I hoped he was chalking the points up in my favour; I might need to cash them in later, knowing me.
‘Hello.’ Alex’s eyes were filled with suspicion at my over-friendly tone.
‘Alex, you remember Misty?’ said Tarryn, trying to ease the way.
‘Ja.’ His gaze was now fixed on my hair, which had had the benefit of its usual taming treatment and looked completely normal for me, ripples rather than finger-in-a-socket crazy curls. ‘You did something to it.’
That acted like a splash of cold water, waking me up out of my brief visit to my saintly side. And he was supposed to be charming? Around me he appeared to be my match for bluntness.
‘Yes, I did.’ I didn’t want to test my ‘be nice to Alex’ attitude too much this early on; being sympathetic in theory was easier than in practice. He just wound me up by breathing and, to be fair to him, that was my problem rather than his.
But he did not know when to stop digging. ‘Your hair looks … much better. Nice.’
Now wasn’t that the word of the day? ‘Why, thank you, kind sir.’ I could feel my irritation levels rising. Who was he to pass judgement on my hair after all? I turned to the only male I could bear to face at the moment. ‘Let’s go see Pingu, Brand.’ Nap over as swiftly as it had begun, the toddler’s bright eyes were shiny with excitement. ‘Buckle up, partner!’ Pointing forwards, I pushed the buggy through the doors in a cavalry charge and took us onto the boardwalk.
Brand squawked.
Accompanied by the drum roll of chair wheels and the roar of the wind, Brand and I made our way down to the sea, not looking behind to check the others were following. I could hear distant calls, more like little donkeys than any bird I had ever heard. Brand jiggled in his seat in utter delight.
‘Steady on, sweetpea. We’re getting there.’
Then, among the grey rocks, we spotted them: hundreds of black and white ridiculous, wonderful penguins. Some lay on their stomachs, others stood tall, beaks up like they were volunteering for that night’s waiter roster. A party of three emerged from the sea, waddling in synchronization. There was no way anyone could look at them and not laugh.
Brand clapped his hands and began mimicking the odd call they were making. The penguins went from relaxed chappies to mission-orientated commandos in a flap of a flipper.
Opal hurried up to us as the penguins began to converge. ‘I’d better take over. I’m used to this.’ She swivelled the pushchair round to find a position where Brand could watch without being mobbed. The little gentlemen birds were absolutely entranced by the new boy-shaped penguin. One end of the beach emptied as they formed an audience below his chair like the faithful listening to the Pope on Easter Sunday. He bobbed and brayed, hopefully offering some uplifting message and not ‘Go forth and peck the humans!’ There was no way the rest of us would be able to see any normal penguin behaviour without moving further off out of Brand’s sphere of influence. Uriel and Tarryn wandered on, hand in hand. I doubt they were paying much attention to birdlife. Willow and Hazel sat cross-legged on the walkway and began to sketch the crowd. That left Alex to me. Big sigh but I had promised I would try.
‘Great, aren’t they?’ See, Uriel; I can make polite conversation.
‘Yes, they are.’ This conversation was about as smooth going as pushing a shopping trolley with a dodgy wheel.
‘So, er, have you been here before?’ I heard echoes in my head of the cheesy line ‘Do you come here often?’ and blushed. Hand on heart, I was not chatting up this guy.
‘With the school. When I was much younger.’ He dug his hands in his pockets. ‘Look, Misty, about the party.’
I started walking, getting out my camera. ‘Let’s not go there.’
�
�But I want to say something. I didn’t mean my comment the way it came out.’ His footsteps were keeping up with mine.
My teeth ached. ‘Don’t do that please.’
‘Do what?’
‘Lie to me. It hurts.’ I meant it literally but he took it in the more ordinary sense of hurt feelings.
‘I just—’
Then I did something few people dared do to Eloquent Alex: I interrupted him. ‘You don’t want to talk about it any more than I do, so, moving swiftly on … ’ I swept my arm towards the seascape. ‘Tourism.’
‘But—’
‘Buts are for nanny goats, or archery.’ Do not mention what’s on the tip of your tongue, Misty; do not! ‘Or … um … smokers.’ Phew—butt emergency avoided. ‘Let’s just enjoy the penguins, OK?’ I tried to think up a peace offering as he still looked like he wanted a heart-to-heart about the party. ‘Can you take my photo? I want to show my family what I’ve been doing today.’
‘Sure.’ Relieved to be given a task, he took my camera, our fingers touching briefly. I had that twitch of static shock, as at the party. What were the physics of that? He was the positive and I the negative charged object. That figured. We were poles apart in the way we came over to other people: me, the Screw-Up; him, the Boy Wonder.
‘Smile,’ said Alex, holding up the camera.
I wished his voice didn’t make my stomach quiver in that first-night-nerves sensation. He probably wasn’t even using his gift but something about his tone just rang all my bells. Not that I ever had a starring role in the school play. I couldn’t speak lines I didn’t mean. Being unable to escape the truth often stopped me in my tracks. Crystal teased me that I was like that old joke of one of the original Daleks facing a flight of stairs. Plans for world domination scuppered. Just like those Dr Who characters, I couldn’t do ordinary stuff other people found dead simple.
‘Misty? Are you listening?’ Alex was getting testy.
‘Um … ’ No.
‘Can you do it then?’
What had he asked? Oh yes: smile. I did my best, though it felt false, all teeth and no humour. He checked the image on the little screen, shading it from the sun.
‘Another one. That one didn’t come out well.’ He held up the camera again.
‘We’ll be here all day if you’re waiting for a good photo of me.’
He thought I was joking. ‘That’s much better. Your family will like that last shot.’ He handed my camera back.
‘Let me take one of you—to show the folks back home.’
‘They won’t be interested in me.’
‘Wanna bet?’
Alex shrugged and scanned the walkway, looking for a good backdrop. ‘Will this do?’ He chose a spot where there was a break between the rocks showing the sea and a scattering of sunbathing birds. ‘You get a sense of how close we are to the ocean here.’
‘Perfect.’ And he was. Again. The natural world loved him. If I didn’t already know his gift was persuasion, I’d say he had the ability to arrange the world to show him off to advantage. Dark brown hair rippling in the breeze, glinting mahogany where the light touched the lighter strands, tanned skin, mesmerizing eyes, tight T-shirt that hinted at his muscle definition (I’d seen him strip off his top after his football game and the memory was etched on my visual cortex for all time). He might have the superior attitude of a boy who knew he was destined from birth to join the world’s elite, leader-of-men material, but I couldn’t help my gut reaction to him, a desire to press my face to his chest and just, sigh, enjoy.
Click. I had to face up to reality. He was in the year above me and so out of my reach that if we were planets, he would be mighty Mars or Jupiter and I one like Pluto, recently demoted to dwarf-planet status by astronomers. That was the natural hierarchy of things.
But this humble planetoid could have its moment in the sun. If I posted this on my Facebook page I could guarantee I’d increase the comments from my girlfriends exponentially. I took a couple more shots.
He had become suspicious of the time I was taking with my allowed ogling via a camera lens. ‘Got enough now?’
Never. ‘Um, thanks.’
He came closer and frowned.
‘What?’
He gestured at my nose. ‘You’re burning. You have to be careful with fair skin like yours: the sun’s really fierce by the sea. Not what you’re used to in England.’
Of course, I would be burning. He looked like the sun merely kissed and caressed him before turning his skin a golden brown.
‘Oh great.’ I reached for my sunscreen, then remembered it was at Heathrow. ‘I’ll have to catch up with my aunt. She’s bound to have some Factor Fifty for her children.’
I was surprised that Alex didn’t take the chance to leave me behind as I turned back. He fell in step beside me, his stride loose and easy, hands swinging loose at his thighs almost close enough to hold mine.
Stop looking, Misty.
‘I envy you,’ said Alex, then frowned. ‘Did I just say that aloud?’
‘Yes.’ Maybe I was leaking truth rays again? I wasn’t going to own up that it might be my fault he said such tactless things around me. We were battling enough personality clashes without adding that to the mix.
He dug his hands in his pockets. ‘I didn’t mean to mention it but it’s true.’
‘What can you possibly envy about me?’ Stupidly, part of me was hoping for a personal compliment to make up for the party comment, something about my conversation skills or attractive sense of humour maybe?
‘Your family. Your oddly named brothers and sisters. Aunts and uncles—masses of them from what I’ve heard. It’s quite a tribe you’ve got there.’
Of course, he would envy what surrounded me rather than anything I could claim was down to my character. Still, points for trying to be friendly. ‘I know. I’m very lucky. So you don’t have many relatives then?’
‘No.’ He rolled his shoulders to ease tension in his neck. ‘I don’t think I know much about families.’
‘They’re all so different. No one really gets what goes on inside someone else’s life.’
‘You’re probably right.’
We turned a corner to see Penguin Pope Brand was still holding the attention of his audience of the faithful. A warden had come out of the visitor’s centre to check our party wasn’t feeding the birds to make them behave like this. Finding nothing to complain about, she was standing with Opal, discussing the weird phenomenon. I could hear Opal explaining that it had to be that Brand had just eaten fish paste sandwiches before arriving and the smell must be attracting the penguins. I don’t think the warden was convinced but that was the only rational answer to a bizarre situation so she had to accept it.
‘See, I challenge you to figure out my family. Someone like you wouldn’t understand but this is normal for us.’ I grinned up at Alex conspiratorially, forgetting for a brief while that I didn’t like him.
Instead of amused, blue eyes, my gaze met a stony expression. He looked almost angry with me. ‘No, I wouldn’t be able understand it, would I?’
What had just happened? He had been with me one moment and now he was miles away.
He turned on his heel. ‘I’m going to catch up with Miss Coetzee.’
‘OK, you do that then.’ Puzzled, I watched him walk swiftly back the way we had just come.
‘Is Alex all right?’ called Opal.
I ran through our conversation and decided I could not be to blame for him getting the huff like that. ‘I think so. Have you got any sunscreen?’
She fished around in the side of the changing bag and handed me the bottle.
‘He strikes me as very … ’ Opal searched for the right word, ‘lonely. Don’t you agree?’ Occasionally, my aunt’s insight into people was devastatingly on target.
I watched the upright figure walk swiftly round a large boulder like some demigod, a son of Poseidon, returning to sea. ‘Yes, I think he is.’
I didn’t see Alex aga
in for a few weeks after the penguin trip, though Summer and Angel had predictably drooled over the photo I had posted. His eyes matched the sea behind him and he managed to do the Hollywood idol smoulder to camera without even trying. By contrast, my photo revealed the full extent of my nose sunburn. If I could lie, I would’ve been tempted to claim Alex as a holiday romance and thus boost my ratings with my friends; but then, if I started down that path, I would have been forced to tell the truth, which was that he was my vacation personality clash. There: I had invented a new relationship category. Go me.
Even though I was busy enjoying my holiday, including a totally awesome safari in the Kruger National Park, I couldn’t shake the memory of that glimpse of Alex striding out alone. I was beginning to question my assumptions about him: golden boy at school, but that didn’t prevent him being a little lost like the rest of us.
The last day before I was scheduled to return home, Opal and Milo arranged to take me on the cable car to the top of Table Mountain. The plan was to eat at the restaurant, which boasted amazing views over the city bowl. Uriel and Tarryn were also invited.
Feeling generous as I was leaving the country, I texted Tarryn as we got ready for our day out. Do you want to ask Alex?
I half-hoped she’d say no but she replied almost immediately. Great idea. I’ll see if he’s free. He’s got Matric assessments soon so could do with a break from study.
Braiding my hair in the mirror, I gave myself a pat on the back for thoughtfulness. Someone has to appreciate my saintliness as I can’t seem to persuade my family to regard me in that light. To them, I am a slowly unfolding disaster that has to be managed.
When we got to the bottom of the mountain, I discovered that Tarryn had not only asked Alex to come, but also his partners in crime: Phil the redhead, Michael the blond movie star, and Hugo the prince. My halo slipped a little. I had mentally prepared myself for spending time with Alex, awkward though that could be, but I found the whole gang a bit much on what was supposed to be a treat for me. I braced myself for more jokes at my expense. They stood together waiting patiently for the kerfuffle of my family’s arrival to subside. Tarryn introduced them to Milo and Opal. She was oozing pride—in a nice way.
Misty Falls Page 6