Soul Fire

cigarettes, garlic. Last night, in a single, rancid breath.
    I move my head to the side. ‘I need air.’
    As I straighten up, I bash my head on a metal bar above me.
    ‘Watch yourself, honey!’ She helps me off my bunk. I’m dizzy, though I hardly drank any alcohol last night, while Cara’s daisy fresh – except for the
death-breath. There’s no justice.
    I realise the room is empty. ‘Where are the others?’
    She pulls a nasty face. ‘Sahara dragged Ade out for a romantic walk on the beach. Yuk . So it’s just you and me. Oh, and a mysterious guy called Danny, apparently.’
    ‘Danny?’
    ‘You’ve been calling out for him for the last five minutes. I was trying to wake you up, but you were all “DANNY! DANEEEEEEE!”’ She manages to sound just like a
pathetically needy version of me. ‘No wonder you haven’t been playing tongue tennis with Lewis, if you’re dreaming of another guy.’
    ‘I don’t know a Danny. I must have been shouting something else.’
    She looks into my eyes, searching for the truth. ‘What? Danone, maybe? I like yoghurt too, but not that much. Come on, spill the beans.’
    I close my eyes. ‘Leave the Spanish Inquisition, Cara. It was just a bad dream.’
    She sighs, then goes to the window and holds her hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. ‘You don’t have to shut me out.’
    ‘I’m not.’ I hate myself for lying. Cara keeps trying, even though most people would have given up. I don’t deserve her.
    ‘Do you get them a lot, Al? The nightmares?’
    I walk towards the window, standing close to her. ‘Not as often as I used to.’
    ‘Well, something’s brought it all back. And I don’t believe you about this Danny , but I can’t force you to tell me.’ She bumps my arm with her fist, to show
I’m forgiven, despite my disloyalty. ‘Let’s get breakfast, yeah?’
    ‘What time is it?’
    ‘Past ten already, lazybones. And my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.’
    ‘Better?’
    I nod, because I’m still chewing the best chocolate croissant I’ve ever tasted. We’re lying ten metres from the water, and the towel under us is damp from sea spray. I swallow.
‘How did you know about that bakery?’
    ‘Don’t you remember that guy in the Mexican bar last night? The one who kept pestering me for my number?’
    I don’t remember any strangers, not because I was pissed, but because I was too busy watching everyone else for danger signs: how many times Cara found an excuse to stroke one of
Ade’s limbs, and how many times Sahara noticed. What Lewis said to Zoe, what Zoe said to Lewis, and all the pauses in between.
    ‘I half expected to find him waiting for me outside the bakery,’ Cara continues, sounding disappointed. ‘You can’t rely on men. Lucky you can rely on croissants.’
She takes a huge bite and flakes of pastry stick to her lips. ‘Bliss. So what’s the plan for today, Miss Forster?’
    I wish I could say, Let’s go shopping or take the cable car, or just hang out on the shore, watching the boys go by.
    But it’s no good. No matter how beautiful Barcelona is, this isn’t a holiday. When I’m not searching for Meggie’s killer, I should be finding out why Javier is stuck on
Soul Beach, so when I have the briefest moments of normality, like now, I feel guilty.
    ‘Let’s meet for lunch later,’ I say.
    I see the disappointment in Cara’s face, and I hate myself.
    ‘ Lunch? ’ she says.
    ‘Sorry. It’s just that . . .’ I try to find a good reason to abandon my best friend, ‘well, at home, I’m always being watched. By my folks, or teachers. Here, I
guess I just fancied a little bit of time on my own.’
    I hate how easily I lie now, especially to those I love.
    It takes me almost an hour to find anywhere to go online. Eventually, in a backstreet, I find The Mobile Phone Shop That Time Forgot, which has a faded CAFE sign in the window,
and two yellowing computers right at the back. Luckily the one that’s working faces the wall, so no one will see what I’m doing.
    The owner brings me a glass of coffee that looks like a tiny pint of Guinness – black beneath, with a head of milk. As he puts it down, I notice red scars all over his gnarled fingers.
    I wait for him to return to the front of the shop, then I go straight onto Burning Truths. The connection is slow and stuttering and the computer’s an antique, so while I wait for it to
load, I wonder if Zoe’s done anything to the site since last night. If