Free Apple and Rain by Sarah Crossan Page B

girl after my own heart. Now, Merlin, I have to tell you that Apple didn’t want to wear the dress. But I told her she can’t cover up her curves for ever.’
    Merlin’s eyes run up my legs to the dress and follow the lines of my body to my face. I want to tell him I’m only thirteen, but it might be rude to say something like that, so I go quiet instead. I hunch my shoulders to hide myself as much as I can. ‘She’s a beauty all right,’ he says. ‘Like her mother.’ Suddenly he pinches Mum’s bum. I expect her to smack him. Instead, she laughs.
    ‘Where’s your other one?’ Merlin asks.
    ‘I don’t know. Apple?’
    How should I know where Rain is? She’s probably tucked away somewhere trying to breastfeed.
    ‘Can you make sure she’s OK?’ Mum asks.
    For a second I don’t move. But when Mum tilts her head to the side and smiles, I just want to be useful. ‘Sure,’ I say. It’s a small flat. She can’t be far.
    I find her curled up in the top bunk with Jenny. Her eyes are closed. She doesn’t hear me come in. ‘Rain,’ I say. I touch her leg.
    She jumps up and pulls out a pair of earphones. ‘What do you want?’ She crawls into the corner where I can’t reach her.
    ‘Are you OK?’
    ‘As if you care.’ She sits the doll on her lap and rests her chin on its head.
    ‘Mum wants to know,’ I say.
    ‘Well, you can tell Mom I’m fine, except Jenny can’t sleep with all the noise. When are they leaving?’
    I shrug. People are still arriving.
    ‘But it’s almost midnight,’ she says. She points to the clock above the tiny desk we’ll have to share once she starts school.
    ‘Why don’t you come in and dance or something?’
    ‘Is that booze?’ she asks, staring at my glass.
    ‘It’s none of your business. Are you coming or not?’ I ask. I know I’m not being nice. I can’t help it.
    Rain pulls the duvet over her head. ‘Get out!’ she shouts.
     
    Back in the sitting room, Mum is standing next to a woman with her hair wrapped in a multi-coloured scarf.
    ‘Rain’s OK,’ I say.
    Mum blinks. ‘Huh? Oh yeah, good. Good.’
    ‘Who’s this?’ the woman asks.
    ‘This is Apple, Gina,’ Mum says.
    ‘Apollinia? No way. My God, I feel old,’ Gina says. She covers her eyes with her hands and screams.
    ‘Gina was my best friend at school. She’s been babysitting Rain for me,’ Mum says.
    ‘We were inseparable until . . .’ Gina trails off. She smiles at me awkwardly. I get it. They were friends until I came along and ruined everyone’s fun. But I won’t ruin anyone’s fun now. I guzzle down the last of the calimocho in my glass.
    ‘Can I get you a drink, Gina?’ I ask.
    Gina raises her eyebrows. ‘What have you got?’
    ‘I’ll make you a calimocho,’ I say.
    ‘Sounds delicious,’ Gina says.
    Mum laughs. ‘My girl,’ she says.

22
    My head swims like I’m bobbing for apples. I sit up and open my eyes. I press my hand against my mouth to stop myself from being sick. The nausea passes. Slowly I sink into my pillow again and curl into a tight ball.
    Rain comes into the room and bashes about under my bunk.
    ‘What are you looking for?’ I moan.
    ‘Not my fault you’re hung-over,’ Rain says. She con­­tinues to rummage.
    I rub my eyelids and try opening them again. I feel so sick I groan.
    ‘You should’ve drunk water,’ Rain says.
    ‘Thanks for the advice, but it’s the middle of the night. Go back to sleep.’
    ‘It’s six o’clock,’ she says. ‘Technically that’s morning, and Mom says I can get up as long as it’s after six. So go stick it.’
    ‘Please, Rain.’ I roll over.
    She yanks a strange contraption from her box under the bed.
    ‘What is that?’ I ask.
    ‘A carrier.’
    ‘What kind of carrier?’
    ‘A baby carrier. I’m taking Jenny for a walk. Mom won’t buy me a stroller.’
    My head sloshes. I go to the window and pull back the curtain. The street lamps are still on. The moon is glowing. ‘It’s too dangerous to go out on