Soul Storm Read Online Free PDF Page B

condition. And the airbags are fully tested,
and
the brakes. Your dad was waiting at the dealer’s when you got home. Obviously we had to make sure you passed before we signed on the dotted line.’
    ‘It’s
mine
?’ I whisper, unable to believe it.
    ‘One hundred per cent yours.’ Dad grins, and puts his arm around me too.
    ‘Oh my God. I don’t know what to say.’
    ‘Don’t say anything. Go and sit in the driver’s seat,’ Mum says. There are tears in her eyes.
    ‘Sorry. Thank you. I should have said that straight away. Just . . . I really wasn’t expecting it.’ I hug and kiss Mum, then Dad. ‘But how much . . . I mean, how did you
afford . . .’
    And then I realise. There’s no way they could have afforded it if they still had a daughter in university. Meggie never got a car as a present when she passed
her
driving
test.
    But with my sister gone, they have a little cash to spare.
    I know she’d be pleased for me. I try to focus on that as I walk towards the car, climb inside, work out where the ignition is and then rummage around under the seat to find the lever so
my feet reach the pedals.
    My
pedals.
My
steering wheel.
My
gear stick.
My
seats.
    Mum’s walking to the end of the bonnet. She’s got her phone out, ready to take a picture.
    I put on the seatbelt –
my
seatbelt – for the picture. But I’m not planning to go anywhere right now. I feel too dizzy and shaky.
    This isn’t just a car. This is my independence. The first step in growing up, moving away, getting on with my life. That’s why they’ve bought it for me. Why they’re
both
trying hard not to cry.
    ‘Thank you,’ I call out. Only they can’t hear me because I don’t know how to open the electric windows. ‘Thank you so much.’
    The rear-view mirror’s all wrong, I can’t see anything but the back seats. So I reach up and tilt it, until the whole of the road behind me comes into view.
    It’s empty. My finger throbs, reminding me of the flowers. Sahara’s making her presence felt. The iciness travels down my back again, even though it’s warm in the car.
    What gives her the right to invade every part of my life, even a moment like this, which should be all about celebration? The flowers are the final straw.
    And that’s when I decide.
    We’ve been playing the game your way for too long, Sahara. This is where I start to fight back.

 
     
     
     
7
     
     
     
     
    I log on to Soul Beach to forget Sahara for a while. But Sam’s sitting alone in the bar, which is not a good sign. To the Guests, she dishes out nachos and delicious
cocktails. I get lectures and tellings off.
    She waves me over. As usual, there’s a cigarette between her stained fingers, but the shadows under her eyes are darker, the same faded blue-black as her tattoos.
    ‘Hey, Alice, tell me something shiny and good.’ Her voice is weary.
    I sit down. ‘I passed my driving test.’
    She leans over and kisses me on the cheek, her dreadlocks rough against my neck. She’s never done that before. The smell of nicotine is strong, and her lip ring is cold where it touches my
skin.
    But there’s something missing . . .
    Then I realise. When we touched, I saw no flash of memory, no vision of the moment just before she died.
    Sam is different to the Guests. Older, sharper. She’s the Beach agony aunt, as well as the girl who mixes the drinks and clears away the empties when the dead, cool kids decide to call it
a night.
    But she’s also part of the Management, or at least she carries out their orders.
    ‘Brilliant news, mate,’ she’s saying. ‘Made up for you. Got wheels yet?’
    ‘Yeah. My folks bought me a car. I’m really lucky.’
    ‘You’re growing up, eh?’
    I nod. ‘Sam, is there something wrong?’
    She looks down, pulls at the skin around her nails. Sam doesn’t have the gloss of the Guests. She seems real. ‘Why do you say that, Alice?’
    ‘Well, apart from anything else, I’ve never seen you not working before. You’re