Soul Fire

bit young.’
    He might think I’m already on drugs when he hears what I’ve got to say. ‘Listen, this might sound weird, but will you promise to hear me out?’
    ‘Sure. Weird is good. I like weird. Especially on a quiet afternoon when I’ve got bugger all else to do.’ He waves at the empty café.
    ‘Did you know a guy called Javier?’
    His eyes narrow. The smile’s gone.
    ‘Maybe.’ He stares at me, giving absolutely nothing else away.
    ‘The thing is, I know . . . I knew him too. Not well, but well enough.’
    ‘You said this was your first time in Barcelona.’
    ‘It is.’ I keep eye contact with him, though his face has hardened.
    ‘J never left Spain in his life. What the hell is this? Who are you?’
    ‘My name is Alice Forster. I live in London. I’m seventeen, and I’m doing A Levels in—’
    ‘Don’t dick me around. I don’t want your school report. I want to know what you’re playing at. Bringing up this crap. Did you read about J somewhere? Is that what
it is?’
    I gulp, angry with myself for not planning this better. But then I could have had till Christmas and I still wouldn’t have been able to come up with something rational. He’s either
going to believe me, or he’s not.
    ‘Do you . . . Do you believe in the afterlife, Gabe? I mean, in people having another existence after they’re dead—’
    ‘I know what the bloody afterlife is.’
    ‘But do you think it’s real?’
    ‘Shit. I’ve heard it all now. Are you some trainee medium? Because if you’re offering me a séance, I’m not interested.’
    I’ve lost him. ‘You promised you’d hear me out.’
    ‘That was before I realised you were a flake, Alice – if that’s even your real name. You’d better leave now, before I get really pissed off.’
    ‘My big sister was murdered,’ I say, hating myself for using her to win sympathy, but knowing it’s the only way I might stop him interrupting me. ‘She was Javier’s
age.’ I pause, so it sinks in.
    ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘But I don’t see what it’s got to do with me.’
    ‘I have this . . . knowledge. I can’t explain why. Anyway, it’s made me certain that there is an afterlife, at least for those people who die before they should. People like my
sister, and Javier.’
    ‘But Javier jumped off a bloody roof! How does that constitute dying before he should, when he chos e to take the easy way out? To leave the poor suckers who loved him behind . .
.’ He stops.
    I stare at him. ‘Jumped?’
    ‘Look, this is not crap I want to relive. I almost left the city because of it.’
    ‘What makes you think he jumped?’
    He holds his hands up to his ears. ‘Enough. I don’t want to talk about this ever again.’
    I see the pain in his face, and it’s like looking in a mirror. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . He told me . . .’ I tail off, knowing whatever I say, it
won’t be enough to heal the pain Gabe’s suffering.
    ‘He?’
    I pull my purse out of my bag, put five euros down on the counter. Gabe puts his hand over mine.
    ‘You’re saying you really believe you’ve talked to him?’
    I try to break free but his grip is too strong. ‘I know it sounds mad, Gabe. But you said it yourself, how else would I know about him? And I don’t believe he’d have jumped. He
wouldn’t have left his sisters, or his mum. Or you.’
    Gabe lets go of my hand. When I look up, his face is even more distorted. ‘J did leave me.’
    ‘No. I think you’re wrong. I’m going, I promise. But answer me one question: did Javier seem like a person who’d leave without saying goodbye?’

37
    For a moment, I think I’ve convinced him, or at least bought myself more time.
    But then he shakes his head and the haunted look is back on his face. ‘Just go.’
    I do as he says. I’ve screwed up. Let Javier down. Plus I have no right to inflict pain on someone I know has already had more than his share. I leave the café, making sure the door
doesn’t slam behind me. As if it matters . . .
    Heading back to the hostel, I look up at the tops of the buildings. The thought of Javier falling so far makes me dizzy.
    Falling? Or jumping?
    How can I be so sure he didn’t jump? He told me himself that his afterlife is a hell of a lot better than his real life ever was.
    I walk faster, hoping Cara might find some way of cheering me up when I get back to the hostel. But the atmosphere in our room is oppressive. Sahara isn’t talking to Ade, Cara isn’t