The Outcast Ones (11 page)

“Iris, would you like to have a family?”

“Sure. It would be great to have a mother like Grace. Emily’s so lucky. Why do you ask?” She looks at me with interest. The light blue in her eyes is almost completely gone, and the sparkling grey has won. Her face also isn’t covered in bruises. We probably don’t look any more alike than Florence and her brothers.

“What about a sister?”

She appears to be thinking, but doesn’t answer until she looks me over thoroughly. “If I had a sister, she should be just like you.”

I laugh, relieved. A contemptuous snort comes from the door—it’s Finn. I don’t care. “Theoretically, we could be sisters. I mean, no one knows who we’re really related to.”

Iris is all for it and sits up in her bed. “Yes, that’s true, maybe we really are sisters.”

“Maybe. I’d like you to be my little sister in any case.”

Iris crows with delight. Her whole face shines with joy. “If I’m your sister, can I sleep in your bed?”

“If you like.” I lift up my blanket so she can slip inside, which she hurries to do.

She cuddles against my arm so I can feel her breath on my throat. “Good night, sister,” she whispers happily.

“Good night.”

“Good night, Finn,” she calls, and he grumbles from the doorway in reply. If it makes him happy to sleep on the floor in front of our room, I certainly won’t stop him. 

- -

I
t’s a strange new feeling for me to dip my fingers and hands into the dry earth. The sand sticks under my fingernails and colours my skin red. I let the pieces of stone drop from one hand to the other. When I press them hard, they disintegrate. As well as earth, there are old plant roots and sometimes there’s even a worm. I nearly cut the head off my first, when I was using the spade. Then, when I carefully lifted it out of the ground and looked at it in the palm of my hand, Finn only rolled his eyes.

I annoy him terribly. It starts in the morning, when he wakes me with unfriendly words, and it goes on at breakfast when he watches with eagle eyes just what I eat and how much. It’s like he’s making a list in his head, so he can send me a bill later. But although he can’t stand me, he rarely leaves me alone, following me around like a black shadow. He’s tormenting not only himself, but me too. Whenever I dare to forget that this isn’t my home, his piercing gaze reminds me. He couldn’t be clearer in showing me how unwelcome I am. It would be in the best interests of both of us if he’d just take me back to the safety zone, but that’s the last thing he’d ever do. So I’ll have to tolerate his presence, as he must tolerate mine.

“Stop playing with the sand—start working!” He’s just as aggressive as ever. In the beginning I cringed and panicked every time he shouted at me, but now I’m used to his mean tone of voice. Still, I’d better do as he says, so I reach for the trowel so I can dig faster.

When the holes are deep enough, he passes me seed potatoes. I drop them in—it’s unbelievable that they can multiply into so many more. After that, we go to a well and fetch water to feed our plants. The outcasts dug their own well several years ago. That’s hard for me to believe when I see how deep it is. The water glimmers dimly far below. The bucket dips into it with a splash, and in a moment I, too, long for a bath as the sweat runs down my back. Slowly I am getting used to the hot spring. I like it how the tiny bubbles caress my skin, and I like the feeling of being surrounded by water. The very best thing is to dip my head under.

It’s easy to pull up the bucket with the winch, but carrying it is hard for me. It’s so full, so heavy, that little splashes fall over the edge as I walk.

Finn has less trouble with it. He carries the bucket as if it is a game. And he’s got enough energy left over to look me up and down, eyebrows raised.  “Look out, you’re tipping out all the water!” he growls. Well, I knew that was coming. He loses no opportunity to humiliate me.

“I’m doing my best!” I hiss back, huffing. The bucket’s metal handle cuts into my hands, but I don’t want to give Finn the pleasure of seeing me set it down or even dropping it. I keep going.

Suddenly, someone reaches from behind me and grips the heavy weight. Surprised, I turn around and look into Paul’s friendly green eyes. “I can’t stand to watch you exhaust yourself like that.” He grins at me and carries the bucket over to Finn, who’s already watering the plants. “You’re a true gentleman, letting a lady carry such a heavy weight.”

“I don’t see any lady here,” comes the cold answer immediately.

I don’t care.

Paul tilts his head disapprovingly, but resists making further comment. Before he goes, I thank him. Without him and Florence, I would be at the mercy of Finn’s attacks. The others are all nice to me, but they don’t really intervene when Finn harasses me. I guess they don’t want to get in his bad books.

Sometimes I’ve tried to be extra nice to him even though he’s so mean, but that only made him angrier. So I prefer to ignore him.

After the planting is done, we go to where Gustav is harvesting berries with Emily and Iris. As soon as she sees me, Iris glows and skips over to me. “Cleo, try this!” she calls happily, and reaches out her hand. It’s dirty from the work, and daubed with the red juice of the berries, but two small fruits lie in her palm. Smiling, I take one and put it in my mouth. It tastes sour, but I like how it prickles on my tongue. Definitely delicious—like everything I’ve eaten here so far. “It’s a bit like the pink tablets, isn’t it?”

Iris nods enthusiastically. “They’re called canbeddies.”

“Cranberries!” calls the petite, red-haired Emily in a smart-alecky voice. She’s eating the little berries too. Her nose is covered in little brown spots, and it makes her look cheeky.

Iris laughs and reaches her hand, with one berry in it, to Finn. “You want one too?”

Finn hesitates a moment, but then he looks at Iris with the same angry expression he usually saves for me. “Are you seriously offering me my own food? You should ask permission before you give away things that belong to other people.”

That’s enough now!
“And you should be ashamed of yourself, talking to her like that!” Iris is just a child, he’s got no right to treat her so.

His eyes go wide and the vein in his neck throbs. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that again, or I’ll put you back in your cell.”

I’m not afraid of his threats. “How about don’t
you
dare talk to my sister like that again!”

“Or what?” His tone is full of contempt.

“All right, enough now,” says Gustav. When he sees how sad Iris is, he smiles at her. “Don’t listen to that bully, I think the sun is addling his brain. Keep on picking berries with Emily. Later you can bake a pie with Marie, she’ll like that.”

Iris nods, a little afraid, before Emily takes her hand and pulls her behind the bushes. They’re hardly gone when Gustav’s expression becomes angry. “Boy, why are you behaving so badly? It’s like I don’t know you at all!”

Finn only shrugs and looks away defiantly. When Gustav speaks to Finn, I realise Finn is hardly any older than me, even though he behaves like he is. With Gustav around he seems like a little boy who feels guilty and lets himself be scolded.

“What do you think these two girls must think of you? You’re behaving like a monster—your mother would be horrified.”

“My mother’s dead and it’s their fault!” Finn shouts at Gustav, and points accusingly at me. Tears sparkle in his eyes, taking my breath away. It’s almost a miracle to see Finn so vulnerable. He always seems so hard and cold that I almost forgot it’s possible. When he notices his own tears, he retreats hastily and strides back to the caves without another glance at me.

Gustav lays a hand on my shoulder. “Please don’t hold it against him. The boy lost his whole family.”

I nod sympathetically, which would probably make Finn even madder. I never had a family, no mother, no father. But if I imagine things being different and then losing them, the pain would be unbelievable. Even the thought of losing Iris makes my heart throb painfully. I wonder why he thinks it’s our fault, though?

Since Finn has gone, I find Paul and Florence, who are cutting big stalks out of the ground. “Can I help you two?”

“Surely, dear one,” calls Florence in her kind way, and presses a small knife into my hand. “Come, it’s best done on your knees. This is rhubarb, we’ll make a delicious pudding from it. Cut the stems with the knife, like this.” She shows me how she does it, so it’s easy for me to imitate the movement.

“What was up with Finn?” asks Paul, as casually as he can.

“He was mad at me.”

“Well, that’s nothing new,” hisses Florence as she cuts up the stems I pass her.

“I’m sure he’s trying really hard.” Paul tries to stand up for his friend, but there is no mercy in Florence’s eyes.

“To do what? To be particularly obnoxious?”

In that moment, Finn himself appears right in front of us. His golden hair is hidden under a dark brown cap that throws a shadow over his eyes, so that only his grumpy mouth can be seen. I expect a sharp comment from him, but instead he takes one of the knives and kneels down next to me on the sandy earth, without a word.

He’s not working quite so frantically as before, but seems to be making an effort to match my speed. Our arms side by side are a conspicuous contrast: his skin is tanned from the sun, while mine shines bright white. My skin looks so thin that blue veins are visible in my forearms.

When his bare arm touches mine accidentally, it’s as if an electric current shoots through my body. His skin is pleasantly warm, but mine is like ice. No wonder that he thinks I’m a monster, accusing me for being here instead of D523. Her skin is just as warm as his.

Usually I like to keep as much distance between us as possible, but now I’m longing for his warmth. Even though the sun is beating down on us and the sweat is running down my back like a river, I suddenly feel cold. As if by accident, I touch Finn’s arm with my elbow. Goosebumps spread up my arms and tickle my neck. It’s such a pleasant feeling, something I’ve never felt in my life before. I knew about goosebumps before, of course, but only as a sign of fear or disgust—never something so beautiful.

The strangest thing is that Finn isn’t reacting to my “accidental” touches. He’s just letting them happen, apparently without noticing. Not flinching back, not shouting at me.

Soon we’re working so close together that my upper arm presses against his. For the first time I recognise his scent. Admittedly it’s the sour stink of sweat, like we all have in this heat, but also somehow he smells like rain. That’s exactly what it smelled like in the forest when I was running away, just before the storm broke out. 

A sharp pain makes me gasp and jerk back. Blood flows from the palm of my hand and spills onto the rhubarb stems. My stomach flutters. I tremble and look at my hand, where a deep cut in the palm is the source of the dripping blood. Clumsily, I fall to my rear, while the sounds around me become a confused mess. There’s a roaring in my ears and the world starts to blur before my eyes. I can only stare at the blood in my hand. Blood means danger, war and death.

“I don’t believe it! How stupid can one person be?” It’s Finn’s voice, as if from a great distance.

“Can’t you see she’s about to collapse?” Florence hisses back.

Someone lifts me from the ground and the world spins around me.

The gentle sounds of picked guitar strings pierce into my consciousness. For a moment I just listen, and my inner eye shows me Florence laughing. She always looks so nice and happy. Thinking of Florence makes me remember the blood in my hand. Worried, I force my eyes open and sit up, only to groan at a burning in my temples. I squeeze my eyes shut again.

“Oh dear. That’s what Pep always looks like the morning after he’s stolen Gustav’s wine,” says Jep cheerfully.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” answers Pep, equally amused. “The morning after, you look like Gustav.”

Carefully I open an eye and peer at the two. Pep holds the guitar on his lap, and Jep watches me curiously, although his black curls are almost blocking his sight. Slowly I open the other eye and see that I’m in the cave bedroom I share with Iris.

Pep starts playing his guitar again. Jep makes up words and sings.

“Sleepyhead, you’re finally awake, you’ve slept all night. Sleepyhead, don’t look at me like that, we got rid of Finn for you!”

His words get a smile out of me. Worried, I look at my hand. It’s wrapped in a thick pink bandage.

“The pink was Florence’s idea. She probably thought she’d add a bit of ‘pep’ to your outfit.”

“Then it would be green, not pink, you idiot,” answers Pep, pretending to be angry as he indicates his green shirt.

“Pink would suit your character much better, Twin.”

Before the two of them can banter any more, I clear my throat. “What actually happened? I only remember that I was bleeding.”

“Women do that once a month.” Jep grins. I don’t know what he means, but I’m too shy to ask.

“You’re an idiot, really. If you keep on like that we’ll never find a wife.”

“We? I’m not sharing with you! Have you got a screw loose?”

This time it’s Pep who clears his throat, embarrassed. “Sorry, Cleo. Well, you cut your hand harvesting rhubarb, and then you fainted, like a proper lady.”

I remember that much. But what happened then? How did I get into my room? I remember someone lifting me up. For a moment I imagine it might have been Finn, then I catch myself.

“Paul brought you here, and Florence whacked Finn on the noggin.”

“I don’t believe it! How stupid can one person be?”
—an echo in my head.
That
was Finn. He hates me. He’d never carry me.

“So now we’re your babysitters.”

Pep starts to pluck at his guitar again, and Jep jumps up and down. “Little Cleo has a sore bum, but she’s still happy, so, um...Little Cleo doesn’t like dresses, but she’s still...”

“And now, Mr. Poet?” Pep needles his twin again.

“...Growing tresses,” finishes Jep, grinning broadly at me. His words make hardly any sense, but they still make me laugh. A lot.