Read Online Soul Beach by Kate Harrison - Free Book Online

the eye down to her cleavage, and dangly earrings that move softly in the breeze like
wind chimes. Despite her brown skin, there’s an odd bluey sheen to her, as though she’s slightly translucent. For a moment, I imagine I can see her skull, but then I realise it’s
just the sun shining on her sharp cheekbones.
    Sitting next to her is a tall, skinny guy with Italian colouring. His lilac cotton shirt is unbuttoned to show toned abs, and his gestures are larger than life. There’s something
superficial about him, somehow.
    But when the other guy looks straight through me, I shiver. I can’t take my eyes off him. He reminds me of someone famous. Leonardo di Caprio, maybe. He’s chunkier than his friend,
and shorter, with blond highlights running through slightly curly hair. Not my type at all, but those eyes seem so knowing, as though he understands everything but wishes he doesn’t.
They’re old eyes, though the rest of him is young.
    What is it about him that’s so intriguing? Then I realise. This guy with the knowing eyes is the only person I’ve seen on Soul Beach who doesn’t look airbrushed: compared to
the rest of the clones, he’s almost normal. Still cheesily handsome, yes, but his hair is messy, and his baggy white t-shirt is crumpled and not quite as wash-day bright as everyone
else’s. And as Meggie leans forward to greet him, he seems more awkward with the air kissing than the other two.
    Meggie releases herself from the Italian stallion then looks puzzled for a second. ‘Oh. Shit. Sorry, sis, I forgot. They can’t see you until I introduce you. Not sure why. I think
they’re worried that Guests might get jealous if they never have a Visitor of their own. You’re the ultimate accessory, believe me.’
    She grins at them. ‘Guys, allow me to introduce my sister, Alice.’ Meggie sounds proud of me in a way I don’t ever remember her being when we were both alive.
    They turn in the direction of her hand but they still don’t seem to see me. ‘Oh,’ she says, flustered. ‘There’s obviously something I’m not getting right
here.’
    ‘You have to use our names,’ explains the guy in the white t-shirt. ‘It helps control who can see her and who can’t. Like privacy settings on Facebook or whatever.’
American. Posh American. Definitely not my type.
    ‘Right. In order of residency, then. This is Triti, usually known as Pretty Triti. She’s been here longer than any of us.’ The Indian girl blinks, then smiles and steps
forward.
    ‘You’re Meggie’s double!’ she says, air kissing me. Not that I feel anything at all. ‘I love your skirt.’ I was expecting a soft Indian voice, but instead her
accent is upper-class English, with just a hint of Cockney.
    ‘I love your bikini,’ I say. I want to add that it’s a miracle of engineering, but she might take that the wrong way.
    ‘And this is Javier, from Spain.’
    Javier is the flamboyant one. He waves lazily but doesn’t move. ‘I would give you a hug, but, you know how it is.’
    ‘I thought you were Italian,’ I say.
    He scowls moodily, like a bad actor. ‘I hate Italians. All show. No substance.’
    Which seems rich, coming from a dead person . . .
    ‘And last but not least, Danny.’
    ‘Hi, Alice.’ He stands up, like the well-brought-up boy I’m sure he is. Taller than I expected. Eighteen, maybe? Either in his last year at school, or his first year at some
elite American university.
    And then it strikes me that he’s not at university any more, because he’s dead. With Meggie, it doesn’t seem so strange, because I’ve had months to get used to her death.
But being introduced to people who aren’t actually alive is one of the weirdest things that has ever happened to me . . .
    His all-knowing eyes meet mine. They’re a soupy green, but the colour isn’t what holds my attention. It’s the intensity, the longing. I don’t think it’s because I’m beautiful: I do know what lust looks like, but this