Soul Fire

Javier says.
    ‘Because you don’t listen,’ Gretchen tells him, but not unkindly.
    Javier raises his eyebrows at me, but I look away. The way they tease each other, it’s like they’re brother and sister. Perhaps she reminds him of his little sisters in Spain.
    ‘Maybe I am imagining the birds,’ Gretchen says. ‘But here I am grateful for the littlest things. They might help me understand what my death is supposed to
mean.’
    Javier groans. ‘As though any of our deaths actually mean anything.’
    I look at him. Should I warn them somehow, so they have the chance to say goodbye, to tell each other how they feel? After Triti escaped, Javier was almost destroyed by the knowledge that
he’d never had the chance to tell her how much she meant to him.
    I’m trying to find the words to warn them, when Sam reappears with a platter of tropical fruits. Pale pink watermelon polka-dotted with black seeds, thin slices of pineapple leaking juice
onto the plate, perfect strawberries sliced in two so that each half resembles a love heart.
    As she puts them down on the plate, she says, ‘Compliments of the management, because we don’t often get a night this gorgeous, do we?’ and then whispers directly into my ear,
‘Don’t even think about it, Alice. She might try to fight it. Let her go.’
    ‘You OK, Alice?’ Gretchen says. ‘Only you look like you’ve seen a . . .’ she doesn’t finish the sentence.
    ‘She’s annoyed she can’t have any of our fruit,’ Javier says. ‘Hey, Alice, maybe if you set another Guest free, you’ll progress to the next level and be able
to drink and eat with us too.’
    I could repeat what he said to me: there are always consequences . But I just smile back. ‘Actually, I am thirsty, guys. Need to get myself a real drink in, you know, in real
life.’
    ‘You’ll miss the last minutes of the sunset,’ Gretchen says.
    ‘Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back in two seconds.’
    I tiptoe to the fridge. Here in London it’s one in the morning, and through Lewis’s kitchen window the pitch black sky is already full of stars.
    This is going to break Javier’s heart. And even though I’m not responsible, even though I would never have dreamed of helping Gretchen without talking to him first, I feel this all
started with me. If I hadn’t helped Triti, had never meddled in things I don’t understand, then Javier would be just fine.
    But what can I do now? Except see the end of what I started. Try to support Javier if Gretchen does go. Or even . . . help him escape too?
    At first, the idea shocks me. Javier is so much a part of the Beach that the idea of this place without him seems as crazy as no sea, no sand, no sky.
    I’ve always believed him when he says he loves his afterlife, but what if that’s not true anymore?
    Perhaps it’s almost time to offer him the choice. But not quite. For now I must be normal – and I must be there for him.
    I take a Diet Coke from the shelf, and return to the computer.
    ‘OK, you guys. What have I missed?’

24
    My mouth is gritty, as though I’ve fallen face first into the sand.
    I can hear weeping. What’s going on?
    Now I remember. I’m staying up with Gretchen, so I can be with Javier if she leaves. But a stark blue light hits my face. I look up.
    I’m still at Lewis’s flat, and the light is coming from the outside world. I fell asleep. How could I?
    Though maybe I’m OK. Maybe dawn hasn’t broken on the Beach yet.
    I blink hard. My neck is stiff because my head has been hanging down over the desk. I can taste the metallic tang of Coke. I blink again. Soul Beach is still on the screen in front of me. The
palest pink sky is reflected in a silk-smooth sea.
    There’s a louder cry, like an animal caught in a trap. I see a man crouched on the sand with his back to me.
    ‘Javier?’
    ‘Go away.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Leave me alone. You knew , didn’t you, Alice? You knew .’
    I stare at the screen. At some point during the night – I don’t remember when – we must all have moved onto a blanket right by the water’s edge. I am on one side,
he’s on the other, facing away from me, his legs hugged to his chest. In the middle there’s an indentation in the sand, covered in crimson fabric.
    I know, then, for sure: Gretchen has gone.
    I touch his shoulder, but he rolls away onto the sand.
    ‘Don’t you dare deny it. You knew she was leaving, didn’t you, Alice?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Bitch.’
    I reel