A Sea of Stars. Kate Maryon

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СКАЧАТЬ seat, shrivel up inside and stare out the window so Cat can’t see my eyes. They’ve gone blurry and stingy with fat salty tears and I hate it.

      “Maya, why don’t you give Cat the present you bought for her?” says Dad.

      I can feel Cat sliding in her seat so she’s facing me again. Then, when I look at her, her eyes are big and soft like a puppy’s and her cherry lips are fixed in a smile. I don’t want to give her the stupid present now.

      “That’s a lovely idea,” says Mum, smiling and swivelling round to face us both. She claps her hands together. “It’s a lovely, lovely idea! Go on, Maya, give it to her.”

      I don’t have any choice now; I have to give it to her. I wish they’d just leave me alone. You’re supposed to want to give a gift to someone, not want to throw it out the window and hide. She’ll probably think it’s rubbish, anyway. It’s all rumpled from being under Mum’s seat and the ribbons are crushed. I turn it around in my hands. I’m too annoyed to actually give it to Cat so I just place it on the seat between us and slide it towards her.

      “Is it really for me?” she says quietly, tucking her ‘Life Story Book’ in her bag and picking it up.

      I nod and she rests it carefully on her lap, as if it’s as precious as the crown jewels or something crazy, and stares at it and starts stroking it like it’s a cat. And I can’t be angry any more because the stars come out in her eyes and a stupid sad feeling starts filling up in my throat again.

      “Really, really?” she says, twiddling the crumpled ribbons.

      “Really, really,” I say. “I hope you like it. I spent ages choosing it.”

      Cat opens the present carefully. I usually just rip the paper off straight away, but she unties the ribbons and then gently pulls off the Sellotape without tearing the paper even one bit.

      “It’s… it’s… beautiful,” she says.

      I’d wanted to buy Cat something special, something she could keep forever. And after looking round for hours I’d chosen a musical jewellery box from my favourite shop in town. It’s silver and has hearts and flowers embossed on it, and the inside is this soft squishy nest of red crushed velvet. Cat opens the lid and gasps out loud as a little ballerina girl in a perfect white tutu springs up and twirls round and round to the tinkling music. But then she snaps the lid shut and starts nibbling her nails again. She flicks her eyes over to me, hugs the box close to her heart, and mumbles so quietly I almost miss it: “It’s the best thing ever.”

      At the pizza place, Cat sits next to me. She’s a very confusing person. Mostly she’s a thunderstorm, brewing and nibbling, but, when the stars come out in her eyes, she shines. I kind of do understand why she doesn’t want to call my mum, ‘Mum’, but I think she said it in a bit of an evil way. I know I can be mean to Mum too sometimes, but somehow that’s different. I know it’s wrong and I shouldn’t do it, but she can just be so annoying.

      I wish I had the guts to say to Cat, “Actually, I’m not going to call you Cat, because I have one of those already and she’s much nicer than you.” But I swallow my words back down when I notice her bitten nails. They’re all crusty and scabby with blood where she’s nibbled and nibbled so hard.

      Cat, Cat, Cat. Her name chinks on my teeth like silver, it sits on my tongue like a bomb.

      The waitress puts some menus on the table and I’m just about to pick one up when a text pips through to my phone.

      What’s Cat like?

      It’s from Anna and I’m about to text back the word ‘Confusing’ when Cat leans over and tries to read the message.

      “Texts are private,” I say, gently budging her away with my elbow.

      “It’s rude to text at the table, Maya,” says Mum. “You should know that. Especially with Cat here, so switch it off right now! OK?”

      “It’s not rude,” I say, looking at Cat. “I mean, she’s my sister. It’s not like she’s a guest or anything. Anna does texting in front of Evie.”

      Dad glares.

      “Not at the table, Maya,” he says. “Now, be a good girl and put it away.”

      “I don’t care,” says Cat, twiddling her hair round her finger. “It doesn’t bother me.”

      “Well, it bothers me,” says Mum, pulling my phone from my hand and slipping into her bag.

      “Come on, my girls,” says Dad, smiling. “What are you going to have? Go for anything you like; we’re celebrating, remember?”

      I pick up the menu and stare at it. All the words are swimming about and the damselflies are whirring again. A million silvery wings whirring in nervous spirals. It’s weird because I’ve ordered food in a restaurant a thousand million times before, but never with my sister here, never with Cat’s custardy hair wafting up my nose. And my hands won’t stop shaking.

      “Margarita for me, please, Dad,” I say, trying to sound normal. “And some garlic bread and a chocolate milkshake.”

      “What about you, Cat?” says Dad. “What will you have?”

      Cat’s eyes slide over the menu. She shuffles in her seat. She nibbles on her nails.

      “Am I allowed a whole one?” she asks. “All to myself?”

      “Yes, Cat,” Mum laughs. “Of course.”

      “Don’t laugh at me,” snaps Cat, turning into a shark. “I didn’t know.”

      Mum zips her laugh away and turns redder than her hair. She coughs and the air between us tugs tight. “No,” she says, “of course not. I’m sorry, Cat. What would you like, sweetheart?”

      “Meat feast, two lots of cheesy bread and a Coke.”

      “Mmmmm, I think I’ll have the meat feast too,” says Dad, stretching back in his chair and rubbing his hands together. “And, go on, I’ll push the boat out and have a Coke as well.”

      “Same as me, Daaaaaad,” says Cat.

      Her words creep under my skin. It’s weirder than weird hearing her calling him ‘Dad’ already. It makes my whole body whir and my heart feel empty and small. I know I have to share him now, we’ve talked about it loads, but I didn’t think it would feel like this. He’s my dad.

      Cat looks in Dad’s eyes and smiles. She turns her head a little bit to one side like she’s unexpectedly shy, then she nibble-nibble-nibbles on a nail. Dad smiles back and winks. And the little knife in my tummy twists and bites as a spark of love flies from Dad’s eye to Cat’s heart. I pinch the back of my hand. I should have ordered Coke and a meat feast as well, then I would’ve been in Dad’s team too.

      The waitress comes over and puts a pot of felt-tip pens in the space between Cat and me. She smiles and gives us each a poster for colouring in, even though we’re a bit too old for it.

      “Someone’s birthday, is it?” she asks, tying purple balloons on the back of our chairs. “I love birthdays.”

      We СКАЧАТЬ