Read Online Minus Me by Ingelin Rossland - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ingelin Rossland
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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
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
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