Free The Smell of Apples: A Novel by Mark Behr

keeps slipping off one shoulder.
    'It's that Zelda!' says Frikkie. 'Let's run away from her!' And we jump down the stairs and run beneath the tracks, on to the beach. Zelda calls after us, but we ignore her and run across the beach, along the wall, and back around on to the quay. We stop to look back and see her coming across the beach on the other side of the yachts. She's running like mad to catch up, and Use's dress is flapping around her legs like a plastic bag, and her plaits are streaming out behind her in the wind. While she runs she pins the hat down on her head with one hand.
    We run along the quay towards the lighthouse on the point. The tide seems very high today, and some of the bigger waves are breaking right over it, and there aren't any fishermen with handlines either.
    'What does it help, we're stuck in a deadend here?' I pant at Frikkie, once we come to a standstill against the little lighthouse. My chest is burning from the run. The waves are bursting up against the quay, sending spray across the surface.
    'When she gets here,' says Frikkie, gasping for breath, 'we make as if we're going to throw her in. That'll frighten the living daylights out of her!' And we burst out laughing.
    Zelda's head appears at the bottom end of the quay. She's carrying the hat in her hand now. She's still running, but she comes to a sudden standstill and retreats a few paces when a big wave sends a sheet of spray across the quay. When the water subsides, she looks at the two of us up against the lighthouse, laughing at her. Then she walks quickly up the stairs, until she's a few paces away from us.
    She's out of breath and her cheeks have turned red against her white skin. Zelda's brothers all have big brown

    Mark Behr
    freckles across their faces, but her skin is as white as paper.
    'Ja! You thought I wouldn't be able to catch you, neV she says.
    Frikkie copies her squeaky voice: 'You thought I wouldn't be able to catch you, ne" and he draws the corners of his mouth down like always when he's bullying someone. He carries on, in his own voice: 'Who says it's not us that caught youV
    For a moment she looks like someone who doesn't know what she's doing here. She puts on her hat again and stares at us, as if she's waiting for us to say something.
    'Leave us alone, Zelda,' I say. 'Go home and play with your doll.' But she just stands there, and I can feel that Frikkie is in the mood for making sport today.
    'Let's play chicken,' he says.
    Chicken is when you stand on the seaward side of the lighthouse and see who's the first to get out of the way when a wave breaks against the quay. It's a dangerous game, because if you don't move quick enough, one of the bigger waves can easily wash you into the harbour, or even drag you into the sea.
    'No, I'm not playing that,' Zelda says, and turns around to walk away from us. Frikkie darts after her and before she can try to stop him, he grabs the hat off her head and runs back to the lighthouse. She jumps around and shouts at him to give it back. But Frikkie swings it around, acting like he's going to throw it into the sea.
    Zelda jumps up and down, and begs Frikkie for the hat. She comes closer, but then almost falls over backwards when a wave breaks over the quay between her and us. We cling to the lighthouse.
    'Come and fetch the hat. Here.' And he holds it out to her. With his other hand, he props himself against the lighthouse.

    The Smell of Apples
    'Your mother is Glenda Kemp, isn't she!' Frikkie calls out to Zelda. Glenda Kemp is the stripper who's always being picked up by the police because they say she does terrible things with men. She was even arrested the other day for keeping a python without a permit. Now the SPCA and the police are after her. Glenda Kemp isn't really Zelda's mother, but Zelda always gets hysterical when we tease her about it.
    'Do a bit of go-go like your mother!' Frikkie shouts, and pushes his hips around like someone doing the go-go, and he rubs the hat