Free Apple and Rain by Sarah Crossan Page A

you,’ she says, and dashes into her bedroom and out again, carrying a yellow dress. She holds it up to the window, so I can see it in the light. It’s the same colour as the one I wore when I was Trish’s bridesmaid, but this dress has silver sequins along the neckline. ‘It’ll look amazing.’
    ‘I’m not sure.’
    Mum presses the dress against me. ‘You can’t go around in boys’clothes for ever, you know, sweets.’ She winks, and I want to feel part of some lovely conspiracy, but I don’t; I just feel really embarrassed.
    So I go to the bathroom, put on the dress, and study my figure in the mirror. I don’t feel like myself. I step into the hall.
    ‘Wow!’ Mum says.
    ‘I look like I’ve been pumped full of custard,’ I say. I’m fatter than Mum, so the dress is tight across the tummy, but I have no breasts, so it sags at the chest.
    Mum laughs loudly, throwing her head back and showing off her back teeth. ‘You look like a girl ,’ she says. ‘Remind me what size shoe you take.’
    ‘Four,’ I mutter.
    ‘I’m a five! And I’ve a lovely pair of sandals to go with that dress.’
    ‘Not high ones,’ I croak, but it’s too late. She’s in and out of her bedroom again and holding a pair of strappy high heels.
    ‘I won’t be able to walk in them,’ I say.
    Mum kneels in front of me and slips the shoes on to my feet.
    ‘Aren’t sandals for the summer?’ I say.
    ‘Who cares? You can paint your toenails,’ she says, like that might keep my feet warm.
    I try staggering around for a minute when Rain appears again.
    ‘You look weird,’ she says. Her voice is flat and honest.
    ‘She looks great!’ Mum says, and puts her arm around me. I love the touch of that arm, especially facing Rain, and I feel myself expand.
    The shoes suddenly feel less uncomfortable. The dress isn’t so bad.
    I go to the kitchen to arrange the nibbles.

21
    The party starts at eight, but no one shows up until ten when everyone piles through the door together. I carry around a plate of cheese and crackers, telling everyone I meet that I’m Mum’s daughter.
    ‘Annie’s kid? Really?’ ‘You look like her.’ ‘She really does!’ ‘Cute dress!’
    ‘Want some Brie?’ I ask.
    The food runs out quickly. The drinks don’t. Everyone keeps sipping wine and the more they sip, the louder the room gets. Even though it’s freezing out, the windows are open, so people can blow smoke through them. The music gets louder and louder.
    ‘Apple, Apple, there’s someone you have to meet,’ Mum shouts. She waves at me through the throng of people.
    I weave my way towards her. She hands me her glass of red wine. ‘You seem like you need a drink,’ she says. She laughs. The man next to her laughs too. And they’re both watching me. I take a gulp of the wine. It tastes like cough medicine, only worse.
    ‘This is Merlin,’ Mum says. She pushes the man towards me.
    ‘As in the druid?’ I ask.
    The man nods like a mechanical toy. ‘Exactly. Although my real name’s Martin. But who remembers a name like that?’
    I take another swig of wine and shudder. Mum grabs a bottle of Coke from the kitchen counter and uses it to top up the glass.
    I stare into the maroon concoction.
    ‘Don’t look so terrified. It’s calimocho,’ she says.
    Merlin sniffs. ‘Not without ice and lemon, it isn’t. Ugh.’ He elbows past Mum and returns thirty seconds later with a fistful of ice, which he throws into my glass, splashing the drink all over my arm. Then he sticks a slice of lemon into it too.
    I hope he has clean hands.
    ‘Now that’s calimocho,’ he says. ‘What do you think?’
    I sip the cocktail, expecting it to taste no better, but it is better. It’s sweet with a little fizz. It’s nice and cold. I can hardly taste the wine at all.
    I smile.
    ‘You don’t have to be polite, you know. You can have plain old Coke,’ Mum says. She offers me an empty glass.
    I shake my head. ‘It’s good,’ I say.
    Mum laughs. ‘A