Soul Beach

unbearable without her there.
    ‘Hey guys!’ She calls out to Javier and the gang, who are walking past. ‘Guess what. Summer’s over!’
    They head towards us, and I try to fake a smile. I prefer it when it’s just Meggie and me: not only because Javier is annoying and Danny unsettles me and Triti makes me feel fat. But also because now I know how the two boys died, I can’t get two images out of my head: that debris-strewn desert where Danny’s plane crashed, and Javier as that sweet, solemn boy whose life ended with a fall from that rooftop.
    ‘Don’t you guys just love winter?,’ she says, as they sit down on our blanket. Uh oh . Looks like they’re sticking around. ‘Darker nights in cosy pubs. Halloween. Bonfire night.’
    ‘And Diwali,’ says Triti. ‘The festival of light.’
    ‘Thanksgiving,’ says Danny. ‘Best dinner of the year. Ah, I remember how it felt to be hungry, the smell of Mom’s turkey roast drifting up from the kitchen. So good.’
    Javier shrugs. ‘I am more of a beach bum. Winter is crappy. Having to stay indoors, ugh, in the bosom of the family. Not my scene.’
    I remember his lie about being an only child. What else is he lying about?
    ‘Don’t be such a misery guts,’ my sister says. ‘Summer’s fine, but too much of any good thing is rubbish, as we all know.’ She laughs, and the others join in. ‘Tell us what it’s like, sis. Are the shops decorated for Christmas yet?’
    Her face glows like a little child’s, waiting to hear for the millionth time how the reindeers will hover over the roof of her house, while Father Christmas sends presents down the chimney.
    ‘The adverts have started,’ I say. Actually, I’ve been trying to ignore the Z-list celebs who waltz across the TV screen like they’ve swallowed a sleigh-full of Prozac. If I’m in the room with my parents – an increasingly rare occurrence these days as they’re rarely in at the same time – we all stare at the floor, like we used to when someone started having sex on screen. Right now, images of family celebrations are more painful to watch than X-rated action.
    It suddenly occurs to me that if Meggie had still been alive, she might have featured in those ads herself . . . The terrible boy band who came second to her are advertising breakfast cereal and a new karaoke game.
    ‘Tell me, tell me,’ she demands, and even Javier looks up.
    So I lie. I tell them what I think they want to hear: about shops full of pumpkin lanterns and witches’ hats, about long-range weather forecasts for a white Christmas, about plans for London’s biggest ever fireworks display on New Year’s Eve. In reality, I barely notice anything about the outside world, or think about the future if I can avoid it.
    ‘Fireworks,’ says Triti, wistfully. ‘Can you imagine how beautiful they’d look, here? Reflected in the sea at night? It would be so cool!’
    ‘Oh yeah. Love it. And what are the chances that when the cocktails are flowing and the fireworks go off, the clothes will come off too. An entire beach full of exhibitionist skinny dippers,’ Javier says. ‘How fantastic .’
    For the first time since I got here, I actually feel the same way as Javier. From what I’ve seen, most Guests need no excuse to show off their newly flawless bodies.
    As they begin to reminisce about winters past, I check my watch and when I see the time – past midnight – I am glad of an excuse to leave. ‘Sorry, guys and gals. It’s past my bedtime.’
    Javier doesn’t look up, but Danny does. ‘I wanted to hear more about your plans,’ he says. ‘About your real plans.’
    The way he looks at me makes me wonder if he can tell I’m lying to get away, even though my own sister can’t.
    ‘Well, I’ll be back tomorrow, same as I always am.’
    And Meggie stands up and gives me the warmest of smiles – even broader than the one she wore whenever she got through the heats in Sing for Your Supper . ‘My little sister,’ she says. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, Florrie.’

32
    Getting up for school these days is harder, and not just because it’s dark in the mornings.
    Since Robbie and I broke up, I can’t be bothered with make-up. Sometimes I don’t even brush my hair. On the Beach, I always look gorgeous anyway.
    Another reason to love it there.
    Cara hasn’t disowned me yet, though she’s told me about a thousand times that my grungy look is bad for her image, especially now she’s adopted