Part 2 (2/2)

I am such a wimp sometimes.

RUBY.

Brilliant.

Thomas sodding Selkirk.

Kaz is gabbling about how she only found out the other day and she wasn't sure whether to even mention it because we're probably not going to b.u.mp into him anyway when there are so many people here.

It's all just noise to cover up what she really wants to happen: she wants to see Tom. All summer ever since they split by so many twists of fate that it's been a cat's cradle of coincidence, Tom and Kaz have failed to b.u.mp into each other. She was on choir tour, he went away with his family to France, Kaz got s.h.i.+pped off to Wales. In the week and a half in which they've both been within sight of the sea, they've not been within sight of each other.

There's no point fighting it. Much as I want Kaz to get on with her life and into someone else's pants, it's not going to happen if she's on red alert for her ex.

So much for leaving all that s.h.i.+t behind.

KAZ.

Ruby stops me with a resigned wave of her hand. ”I think we should just go find him. Get it over with.”

My response to this is to throw my arms around her waist and lift her from the fence, my cheeks hurting from grinning a wide and incredulous grin.

”Are you sure?” I drop her unceremoniously on the floor.

”I suppose.” She squints against the sun behind me. ”But don't pull that s.h.i.+t again, you hear? This is you and me we don't do secrets.” There's a moment in which she watches me before her expression relaxes. ”Now. Fire your special flare gun that forms an image of a man wearing slightly too-short trousers, light a candle and sing 'Jerusalem' backwards or whatever. Summon the Selkirk.”

I hold up my phone with Tom's number on the screen. ”Or I could just use this, like a normal person.”

He answers on the second ring.

”Hey, Tom,” I say, doing an excellent impression of Mickey Mouse.

”You called, m'dear?” The friendliness of his voice the familiarity renders me mute for a moment. ”h.e.l.lo, Kaz...?”

”Sorry, yes, hi. Umm... I heard you'd be here as well. From Naomi. Or Dad. No Naomi!” Either way it sounds like I've been keeping tabs on him. ”Dad's taking Naomi to London.” Stop talking now, mouth. ”For the weekend. Naomi said that your dad said-”

Ruby actually leaps forward and puts both hands over my mouth, whispering, ”Shut. Up.”

Tom doesn't seem to mind that I ended my last sentence with a ”whumph”, but I can hear the smile in his voice when he says, ”If by 'here' you mean Remix, then yes. We just got here. Me and Naj and Roly.”

Now what?

Ruby, whose eyeb.a.l.l.s have been rolling around so much I'm surprised they're still in the sockets, mutters, ”For f.u.c.k's sake” and takes my phone. ”Hey, Tom, how's it going? We're in the middle of exploring the campsite and wondered whether we should come and explore your part of it, wherever that may be. Possibly explore whatever food you've got. And whatever drinks.”

There's a pause. ”Totally like scavengers. Think of us as a particularly s.e.xy pair of rac.o.o.ns.”

I can hear him laughing from here, no more immune to the Ruby Effect than anyone else. She concentrates as he explains where they are.

”Got it. See you in five.” Handing me the phone back, Ruby looks at me for a long moment. ”Are you sure about this, Kaz?”

4 * NOT MY IDEA

KAZ.

All the way from South Slope to where Tom's camped in Three-Tree Field I tell myself the same thing.

I am sure. I am sure. I am sure.

Once I've seen Tom we can get on with our weekend. It won't change anything. I just want to say hi, to show how fine I am being friends. Just to prove it to myself to Tom to Ruby. Just to double-check that's all we are. It's been a long time and maybe Tom's missed me the way I have him...

Tom told Ruby that they're camped next to someone flying a fluorescent pink Jolly Roger. Ruby spots the flag first. I spot the boy.

Tom looks the way I always imagine him. Body broad enough to hold me, tall enough to make me safe big but gentle, like a bear from a fairy tale or a picture book. His haircut is the same one he's always had (apart from the winter of the unwise buzzcut) and the smile he's wearing as he talks to the person next to him is the smile I've missed every second of the last sixty-nine days, twenty-two hours and ... twenty-three minutes.

Maybe I am not so sure about this after all.

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