The Different Girl (10 page)

I took three steps closer to her, making sure the sand was still dry.

“I’m not your
friend
,” said May, squatting again and speaking to the sand.

Eleanor and Isobel were out of sight, beyond the beach’s turn. Ahead was Caroline, moving slowly, but widening the gap since we’d stopped. I couldn’t see Irene at all.

“I would like you to be,” I called.

“Why? What does it matter?” May pried out another piece of coral, dripping sand. She looked at me and then with a sudden jerk heaved the coral in my direction. It landed with a thump a yard short, kicking up sand, then rolled back toward the water.

“What do you think happened to your uncle Will and his friend Cat?” I asked.

May snorted again. “I think they’re dead.”

“But why?”

“Why?”

“I’m sorry you’re sad, May.”

“Shut up about it. Are you stupid?”

“I’m not stupid, May. I’m asking whether it was a storm or something else. But you don’t know, do you? Because you were asleep.”

“There was a storm.”

“I know.”

“So what else could it be?”

“That’s what I was wondering.”

“Why?”

“Because of everything, May. Because you said the picture was Port Orange when it was somewhere else. Because the cargo on the
Mary
was things like Robbert’s notebook.”

May sniffed. “So what?”

“We’re all together now, May. What anybody knows should be for everyone.” But even as I spoke, I knew this wasn’t true.

“They don’t tell
you
everything.”

“Robbert and Irene tell us as much as we can understand. We learn in pieces, and then we put the pieces together—”

“But you don’t know where he was this
morning
, do you?” May had a smile, but it wasn’t happy.

“Robbert went for a walk.”

“Who goes on a walk with a toolbox? He went to the aerial!”

I had to admit that I couldn’t remember Robbert ever walking with the toolbox, and I couldn’t think of anything else near the cliffs that would require it. “Was the aerial broken?”

“Don’t be so stupid!”

“I’m not stupid, May.”

“You think they’re so good!”

“Of course I do.”

May turned away, out to the water. I glanced where she was looking to make sure she hadn’t seen anything in particular—like a boat or something floating—and then looked down at May’s feet, half sunk in the wet sand.

“They saved your life, May. We all did.”

The wind pulled May’s hair in black curling streamers. Caroline had vanished around the curve. I remembered what Irene had told me.

“I have to find Caroline, May.”

I began to walk. I hadn’t even reached the driest sand when I heard May’s footsteps behind me, slapping wet, and then suddenly it hit me and I fell forward hard. I tried to extend my arms but there wasn’t time, and my face hit the sand with a smack.

• • •

I lay there, blinking, sand stuck to my face. I couldn’t get my arms underneath to push myself up. I couldn’t move.

“May!” I called. “May!”

But May didn’t answer.

“Caroline!” But Caroline was too far away, too far to even see what had happened. Irene should have sent her to look after me. I angled my head to the water. A wave broke toward me, the foam rushing up the sand. It stopped well away, but I knew the waves would just get higher. In half an hour the foam would touch my feet. Would Caroline come back in half an hour? Would she come back the same way? What if May had run to Caroline instead of going back? What if they went home through the dunes and left me?

I shook my head. I had been hit in two places on my back—two hands. What if May pushed Caroline down as well?

I tried to raise my knee but only dug it deeper. I lifted with my arms but my hands were pinned too far back, and it only drove my face into the sand. I called again, for May, for Caroline, for anyone who could hear.

The waves came closer, bit by bit, drawing back and tumbling forward. I realized I was staring and shut my eyes. How long had I stared? I turned away, blinking. The beach was a slope. I remembered May’s coral, landing at my feet and rolling back.

I rocked my body up the hill and then toward the surf. Was I too heavy? What if I couldn’t stop and rolled right into the water? But I did it again and again. Each time I rolled a little more, even though each time also dug me deeper in the sand.

At the height of the roll I stabbed my hand out, catching my body, just balanced with my back to the rising water. I pushed, just a little more, and dredged my knee from its trough of sand. I lifted with that arm and leg and rose enough to shift my other hand. I pushed again and got the other leg beneath me and then very carefully, sand sliding from my limbs, I managed to stand.

May wasn’t anywhere I could see. I walked as quickly as I could to find Caroline.

• • •

Caroline stood in the dunes, watching the wind go through the grass. She looked up when I called, and watched for the time it took me to get near.

“You’re all sandy,” she said. “Did you fall? Did May help you? Where is she?”

“May pushed me down,” I said.

“Why?”

“May is unhappy.”

Caroline studied me closely. “That was very dangerous!”

“I thought she might have come here.”

“To push me, too?”

“I didn’t know.”

“But you’re the one who found her.”

“I asked her what happened to Will and Cat.”

“What did she say?”

“That they were dead.”

“That doesn’t mean what happened.”

I nodded. “Robbert went to the aerial this morning, with the toolbox.”

“Was it broken?”

“She said Irene and Robbert don’t tell us things.”

Caroline cocked her head. “They don’t.”

I told Caroline about the number on Robbert’s notebook.

“Do Robbert and Irene know?” she asked.

“They must.”

We stood without talking and then, even though we weren’t walking, Caroline reached out and took my hand.

“You should tell me what you found on the beach,” I said.

“I will,” Caroline said. “But May is coming.”

• • •

She walked to within five feet of where we stood and stopped. Caroline kept hold of my hand. The wind had pulled May’s hair completely loose, and it flew around her head in a cloud, but underneath I saw her face had changed and her eyes were red and wet. She crossed her arms and, ducking her face like a bird, wiped her nose on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“What you did was extremely dangerous!” Caroline’s voice was a shout.

“I know you’re unhappy, May,” I said.

May sniffed and rubbed her eye. “I came back but you were gone. I’m sorry. Don’t tell them. Don’t tell or they’ll hate me even more.”

“No one hates you, May.”

“Unless you keep pushing people!” Caroline cried. “Because that is very serious!”

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

May sank into a squat and hugged her knees.

“Then why did you push Veronika? Veronika found you.”

“I don’t know.”

“Then you have to ask yourself very hard.” Caroline’s voice was more quiet. “You have to know. And not be scared. There’s nothing here to be scared of. We’re not scared.”

May looked up, but her eyes were far away.

“We need to help each other, May,” I said. “We won’t say anything to Irene.”

“In exchange for what?” May’s words were hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if this was the answer—an answer we would understand—but hoped it was. But I understood her offer of an exchange to be an equation, a balance. “All right,” I agreed. “We won’t say anything, and then you will do something for us.”

“What?”

“You’ll tell us if anything happens when we’re asleep.”

May stood and looked at me and then at Caroline, who nodded. May nodded, too, all three of us making a deal. I held out my other hand.

“Just a minute.” May hiked up her shirt and balled it over her fingers. “You’re still covered in sand.”

• • •

When we got back to the beach path, Irene was crouched with Isobel and Eleanor over the grass. Irene saw us coming and stood, taking Isobel’s hand.

“We found a bird!” Eleanor called.

We gathered round: a dead gull, its feathers stuck together, stained and slick.

“It’s a year old,” Caroline said to Irene, and Irene nodded to let Caroline know that she was correct and also that Isobel or Eleanor had already said this.

“Look.” Isobel gently flipped the gull to its other side, the soft neck lolling. “We found it high up, almost to the grass.”

The other side of the gull was burned, feathers blackened and curled, the stubbled skin beneath blistered red.

“With the flotsam from the storm,” said Eleanor, looking at May, as if she might have something to add.

But May only said, “Poor bird.”

“How can a bird get burned?” I asked. “What can be on fire in a storm?”

We waited for Irene to explain. She stood with her hands in the pockets of her skirt. She took a deep breath, which she sometimes did standing in the wind—because of the fresh air, then she would let it all out with a smile. This time it came out through her nose.

“Who can answer Veronika’s question? What burns?”

“Everything burns,” said Eleanor. “But not in water. Not in rain.”

“Something could burn and go into the rain afterward,” said Isobel. “Something set on fire inside, where it’s dry, and then thrown outside.”

“The gull flew inside and then flew out again,” suggested Eleanor.

“Inside where?” asked Caroline. “There’s no fire here to burn a bird.”

“Maybe it floated here on the tide,” said Eleanor.

“But when?” asked Irene.

“During the storm,” said Isobel. “This is the high-water mark.”

“It could have been burned somewhere else,” said Eleanor, “and during the storm it came here.”

“How long has it been dead?” said Irene, in the way that meant this was a clue.

We saw things being dead all the time, mainly crabs and insects, but also birds and eggs and jellyfish. The gull hadn’t begun to fall apart or even smell, and its feathers were still intact. I flipped it back to the side we’d first seen.

“What is that, all over its feathers?”

“Oil.” Everyone looked at May. “Probably diesel.”

“What is diesel?” asked Eleanor.

“It’s fuel for the engine of a boat,” said Irene, when May didn’t answer.

“Uncle Will’s boat?” asked Eleanor. “But May didn’t say anything about a fire. Was there a fire, May? Was there a bird inside your boat?”

“Of course not,” said May. She stood up and stepped away. “I don’t know. I didn’t see any fire. I don’t know what happened to a stupid bird.”

I stood up, too, wanting her to come back.

“I doubt a seagull was inside the boat,” said Irene.

“Then how did it burn in the rain?” asked Isobel. “Was it inside
another
boat?”

“Seagulls aren’t like parrots,” said Irene. “You know that. Think again. May, what do you remember about when you woke up.”

May turned to her, the wind whipping her hair across her eyes. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Did you see anyone?”

May shook her head.

“You called out for your uncle. For Cat. Didn’t you? But they didn’t answer.”

“I wasn’t loud enough.”

“What woke you up, May? Was it a crash? A big bang?”

“I don’t know.”

Irene turned to the rest of us. “What do
you
think?” Her voice was impatient, but also something else. We almost never heard it—and only when Irene forgot we were awake or thought we couldn’t hear—and that was her being sad, wanting something that she couldn’t name. “What do you think, Caroline?”

Caroline blinked and cocked her head. “The oil.”

“The oil caught fire!” said Eleanor quickly. “And the oil got all over the bird.”

“And the rain put it out,” said Isobel. “But by then the bird couldn’t fly.”

“And what started the fire,” Eleanor pointed with her hand, “is what woke up May.”

Everyone looked at May, but this time she looked back. She pulled the hair from her face and put it behind one ear. “When I woke up, the
Mary
was sinking. It was dark. I didn’t see any fire. I didn’t see anything. And you don’t know. All of you, from a bird, you don’t know. You don’t know why anything!”

I went to May, close enough to see her lip shaking. I wondered if this was how she’d looked when she decided to push me down. Would she push me again, in front of everyone? I didn’t think so, but I realized how little I understood her. If one of us had done what she had, pushing me, and then admitted it was wrong and made a deal, like with Caroline and me, that would be how we behaved from then on—but already May was back where she had been, feeling too many things at once and every agreement forgotten.

“What happened already did,” I said to her. “Robbert says that if we understand the first accident, it stops a second one. If we know what happened to the
Mary
then it will help you when you get your own boat later on.”

“We want to help you, May,” said Eleanor.

“And we need you to help us.” Irene’s voice was the same mix of sharp and sad, but louder because of the wind, almost a call. “Won’t you, please?”

Irene held a hand out to May, and May came forward. Instead of taking May’s hand, Irene nodded to Isobel and Eleanor, because it was their turn to hold hands with May since Caroline and I had been with her on the walk. The three of them went first, with Irene falling in step between Caroline and me, taking Caroline’s hand, but resting her palm on my shoulder instead.

“Are you all right, Veronika?”

“Yes, Irene.”

“How was your walk?”

I began to describe where we’d gone and the distance between the waves, all to answer her original question about time. Irene brushed at the back of my smock, and I wondered if we hadn’t got rid of all the sand.

“That’s very good,” she said, interrupting me and turning to Caroline. “And that was very good with the bird. It was just what you were supposed to do.”

“Thank you, Irene.”