Read Online Kamchatka by Marcelo Figueras - Free Book Online Page B

cigarette and cleared her throat.
    It was at this point that she told us about the new rules. We didn’t know how long we would be staying here, she explained; it might be a couple of days, maybe a week, maybe longer. She told us that we wouldn’t be returning to school for a while. On Monday, she said, she would have to go back to work at the laboratory, but papá would take a few days off and stay at the
quinta
with us.

    Given our new circumstances, there was a set of basic ground rules we had to observe. We were not to go into the pool without telling a grown-up first. We were not to open the fridge or turn on the TV if we were barefoot or wet from swimming. And since the only water in the
quinta
was from the water tank, we were not to drink from the tap, spend more than ten minutes in the shower or leave it running for no reason. This last instruction signified an additional responsibility for me as the older brother. (mamá promised to show me how to fill the tank if it was empty.)
    But there was another set of rules too, that related to our curious status as fugitives. For example, mamá explained that on no account were we to use the telephone. We were not to answer the phone and we were certainly not allowed to ring anyone. We weren’t allowed to call Ana or grandma Matilde or Dorrego, and under no circumstances (this proscription was emphasized by a serious tone and stern look) was I allowed to ring Bertuccio. The best thing we could do, she said, was to imagine we were on holiday on a desert island, that we were the only tourists and there was no post, no phones and we could not leave until the boat that had brought us here came back to pick us up.
    The Midget asked if there was a television on the island. Mamá said there was and the Midget threw up his arms in triumph, one hand brandishing the knife that still bore shreds of his sacrificial apple.
    I argued that nobody went on holiday without a suitcase, so the only way we could have ended up on this island was if we’d been shipwrecked. (The word ‘shipwreck’ made mamá and papá nervous, especially when they saw the Midget was getting upset.) I said, nobody can have fun on holidays when they have to wear the same clothes and the same shoes every day, when they have no books, no Risk, no trading cards and no Goofy (this, I admit, was a low blow), no friends and …

    At this point papá interrupted me and said that as soon as the mists surrounding the island had cleared a little, he planned to go back to our house and pick up some things, or send someone with a list and a set of keys. But in the uncertain atmosphere of this new island, I refused to be placated by this news. Who knew how long it would be before this fog that cut us off from civilization lifted?
    The grown-ups exchanged a quick glance and then papá got up from the table. For a moment I took this as an admission of defeat (and if papá was defeated, we were all doomed), but he reappeared from the bedroom carrying a bag and handed a shiny gift-wrapped package to the Midget and another to me.
    My present was a new game of Risk. I was saved! It was beautiful, perfect, brand spanking new, it had everything: the board, the dice, the instructions, everything.
    â€˜Whenever you fancy losing again, just say the word,’ said papá.
    The Midget’s present was a toy Goofy. He ripped off the paper like a wild animal and gave a squeal of excitement when he saw what was inside. Papá and mamá heaved a sigh of relief, but I immediately realized that this new Goofy was about to cause more problems than it solved.
    The Midget started shaking Goofy with a worried look on his face. He looked at papá, then at mamá, but they didn’t understand. He asked them what had happened to Goofy. ‘This Goofy is sick,’ he said.
    The Midget’s original Goofy was a stuffed toy. The new Goofy was made of hard plastic.
    It was not just a matter of