I’m not a hundred per cent sure it is Cal, but before the first letter arrived, he was in the bookshop a lot, and he wasn’t just here to talk to Rachel. He spent loads of his time looking through the Letter Library.
He’d tried to talk to me at school but I hadn’t said much back. You’re right. I’m a little defensive, but I don’t fit in there. I’m the girl reading second-hand books when everyone else has the latest smartphones. I wear second-hand clothes. My dad comes to school at parent-teacher interviews and loudly announces to my homeroom teacher that he can’t afford to send me on camp.
Let me be clear: I don’t care that we’re broke sometimes. The bookshop is worth it. But it doesn’t exactly pave the way to popularity. It’s easier to block people than hear them call me a freak.
But Cal isn’t like that, and I missed out on talking to him and then he left for Sea Ridge with Rachel. The letters kept coming, but I saw Tim Hooper at our book in the Letter Library. He’s Cal’s best friend, and it convinced me even more that the writer was Cal.
I could have told Cal I knew before now, but I wasn’t sure that I liked him that way until he stopped writing. I thought he was kind of geeky and a little strange at first, but some time after his letters he started to look cute to me. He’s sweet. And kind. And I want to meet him face-to-face and talk.
George
Dear George
I know Cal a little, and he is all the things that you’ve written about him. I hope you get to meet him and I hope it works out.
You might think you need to keep people at bay – but if you weren’t so reclusive at school, I think you’d actually have a lot of friends. You’re interesting and funny. And I very much like your clothes. I very much like everything about you, George.
Martin
Cloud Atlas
by David Mitchell
Letters left between pages 6 and 7
30 January 2016
Dear Rachel
Thank you for saving me last night. Did you know that you snore? It’s not an unpleasant sound. It’s a soft nuzzling at air. When should we dance?
Henry
Dear Henry
I’m happy to save you any time. Did you know you steal the quilt? It was a warm night, so I let it pass. When do you want to dance?
Rachel
Dear Rachel
You snuggle, but it’s comforting, so I didn’t mind. George and Martin seem to be getting along quite well today. If we wait a week they’ll be getting along even better and they might come with us. Let’s dance next Saturday?
Henry
Dear Henry
I’m fairly certain it was you snuggling. And yes. Let’s dance on Saturday. I’d love that.
Rachel
Henry
her ears are exactly the right size
We decide to dance on Saturday at Bliss, a place with a DJ who, according to Lola, plays a pretty decent mix. A lot of people from school are starting to go there, and it sounds perfect, so I put a big circle around Saturday 6 February on the bookshop calendar.
The club lets in underage people. If you show ID on the way in, you get a yellow bracelet. No bracelet, no alcohol. It means George and Martin can come. I didn’t have to convince Rachel. I asked her and she said yes.
Bliss is at the north end of the city, near Parliament Station, so we’ve left the cars at home. It’s crowded. Rachel and George sit together. Martin sits in a seat behind them. Lola and I stand in the middle of the carriage.
‘You look good tonight,’ Lola says, touching the edge of my shirt. ‘You think Amy will be there?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t just dress up for Amy.’
Lola looks like she doesn’t believe me, but honestly I didn’t even think of Amy when I got ready tonight. Rachel and I got ready together at the bookshop, so I was too busy talking to her. ‘Amy hasn’t called me once to see if I’m okay since her dickhead boyfriend taped me to a pole. I might not take her back this time,’ I say, looking over at Rachel, who’s laughing with George.
‘She’s got a good smile, hasn’t she?’
‘Amy?’
‘Rachel,’ I say.
She looks over my shoulder and back at me. ‘Are the two of you . . .?’
‘I’m admiring her smile, that’s all. Rachel and I are purely platonic.’ She does look gorgeous, though. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t notice how gorgeous she is. I think that’s a perfectly reasonable thing for a best friend to notice about another best friend. She’s gorgeous, she’s brave, and she writes a good letter.
Lola waves in front of my face and repeats what she’s obviously said once before already. ‘I’m asking Hiroko to stay.’
This is terrible idea. ‘It’s a terrible, terrible idea,’ I tell her, but she says it’s a great idea and then starts listing her reasons – the more they record their songs, the more Lola knows The Hollows could really be something, they’ve got the offer of another paid gig. ‘That’s three paid gigs,’ she says. ‘She doesn’t need to study when we’re playing professionally already.’
‘She wants to study music. You can’t ask her not to go.’
‘I could just float the idea,’ Lola says as the train stops and the doors open. She walks out ahead of me, moving fast to find Hiroko, and to get away from what I’m calling after her. ‘It’s good advice!’
‘What’s good advice?’ Rachel asks as we walk towards the club. I fill her in on Lola’s plan to ask Hiroko to stay, and her expression lets me know she agrees with me. ‘Bad idea,’ she says. ‘Very bad idea.’
‘Try telling Lola that,’ I say, as we reach Bliss and get into line.
I try not to look at her because it’s weird to check out your best friend, but I can’t stop noticing things that I can’t believe I’ve missed all these years. Her ears are exactly the right size. Her head is exactly the right shape. She smells fantastic.
‘What?’ she asks.
‘Your head,’ I tell her, ‘is a very pleasing shape.’
‘Likewise,’ she says, and smiles.
The music’s loud. We walk to the dance floor and start moving. Martin and George sit at a table and watch, and Lola’s off to the side talking to Hiroko, so it’s just Rachel and me.
I love dancing. It’s true I’m no good at it, but it’s also true I don’t give a shit. Rachel and I gravitate towards each other when Iggy Pop’s ‘Sister Midnight’ comes on. The DJ is classic Lola – all the songs we danced to in her bedroom and in the garage.
Fast song after fast song plays, and Rachel and I move around each other, yelling every now and then, but the words not reaching each other over the noise. Every time I get in close to her I want to stay longer. I find myself wondering what this Joel is like, and if she’s still thinking about him.
A slow Radiohead song comes on eventually, and Rachel and I look at each other awkwardly for second or two, and then I think fuck it. We’re friends. I can dance close to her if I want.
It’s easier to talk because my mouth is close to her ear. I tell her I’ve missed her, and she asks me what specifically I’ve missed. ‘I got all my scientific facts from you, for one thing. ‘I’m a total brain because of the information you gave me. Ask me a question. I’ll prove it.’
‘Name the nine planets,’ she says.
She watches me thinking. ‘You look like you’re in pain.’
‘That’s my look of absolute genius. You don’t have a similar look?’
‘I hope not,’ she says.
‘Well, that probably means you’re not an absolute genius. Okay. Nine planets: Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune.’
‘That’s eight.’
‘Thanks to information you gave me in Year 7, I know that was a trick question. There are only eight planets. Pluto is a dwarf planet.’
‘Impressive,’ she says. ‘You should kiss me.’
‘I should name the eight planets more often. Did I hear you right?’ I ask. ‘You want me to kiss you?’
She nods, and I pull back so I’m looking at her face, at her mouth, at her ears and freckles and neck and I realise that this is not an idea that I find terrible. I find it far from terrible. ‘It wouldn’t make things complicated?’ I ask, and instead of answering she points over my shoulder.