And then the BOOM, which was the crash of a plane hitting the base of Our Mountain, and the hum and the silence, which was the propeller slowing and me freezing up and Winter running across the grass towards the wreck, and the bear following, so that I had to sprint not to be left behind as they circled the oozing smoke, like it wasn’t about to pop in a giant orange cotton-wool fireball.
‘Get away!’ I screamed, still running. ‘Get away NOW—Winter—GET—A—WAY.’
But I knew that while there was a chance of a chance of a pilot trapped inside, Winter would be there, thrusting her fist through the window without even so much as a tea towel wrapped around it, and it was useless to wish otherwise. I could almost feel the heat from the explosion that was going to rip her into fragments so small, I’d have to sweep them up with a paintbrush. You can imagine my relief when the bear overtook her, bounded past and leapt onto the creased-up wing, stretched to full height as if he wasn’t a bear but a volunteer firefighter crossed with a superhero. And in a movement that was graceful and frightening both together, he flexed his arms and bent and ripped off the pilot-side window, just like that, as if he were lifting a tray from an oven.
By then I’d reached Winter and was pulling her back and away, and her elbows were pummelling my ribs, pow pow pow, like tennis balls being served straight at me by a tall Russian dude, and we were both shouting ‘No!’ but for different reasons. It was only when she kicked her heel back into my kneecap that I let her go, more in surprise than pain. Turns out I wasn’t the only one in for a surprise, because by the time Winter had climbed up next to Edward on the wing, he had leaned back from the cockpit and had his head on one side, scratching it, all confused, because there wasn’t anyone in that plane—the pilot’s seat was empty. The whole plane was empty.
As Winter ran her hands over the dashboard, I said, ‘It’s a—’
‘I know what it is,’ she said sharply, and that’s when I knew just how top-of-the-roller-coaster frightened she was.
And so, yes, I admit it might have been overkill when I said, ‘They’re coming. They know what’s here.’
Winter
It wasn’t the alphabet he had trouble with.
It wasn’t the sounds or the letters.
It was holding the words in his head as he ran along the lines. They were like train carriages, uncoupled.
I started with joining two at a time. I wrote them down big: I see. You are. We feel. I wish.
‘What do you wish?’ Edward asked.
I looked over at Summer, who was darning.
I looked up into Edward’s eyes. I saw my reflection—a tiny me, twice.
‘I wish…I wish that my mother hadn’t died the way she did,’ I said.
I saw Summer freeze.
Edward nodded, but he didn’t ask for anything more.
And I didn’t regret it. I took the pen. ‘Try this one,’ I said.
‘Right now,’ he read eventually.
And then there was a roar. A crash that shook my skull.
BANG went the mountain.
Up swirled the flowers.
His hand on my arm.
Down fell my heart.
Summer
After that, the planes came more regularly—not crashing, just circling like lost, dreamy albatross. But I convinced Winter they were just drones sent to take pictures. ‘It’s just part of a standard government mapping procedure,’ I said.
‘Which government?’ asked Winter.
‘Oh, shut up,’ I said crossly. ‘You don’t always have to know everything.’
‘I thought they were banned, the drones,’ said Winter. ‘After that horrible thing with the acid and—’
‘I said, shut up.’
We hadn’t found any explosives attached to the plane that had crashed on our grass. The empty cockpit reminded me of those driverless cars that were popular for a while, until the prank where hackers all around the world drove them into frozen yoghurt shops remotely at the same time, like some sick flash mob, and all those people died—kids still clutching their fro-yos, sticky and melting and pure.
But how long till anyone dropped by in person to check the whole scene out? Gradually the background mosquito-whine of the planes became the soundtrack to something—the return of some kind of uneasiness that we’d thought we could finally stop running from.
Thank goodness for Edward, that bundle of golden happiness. We just had to look at him and we were beaming—could waste half a day folding newspaper hats and trying to get him to wear them, weaving him meadow-flower garlands, giving him foil packets of black-pepper-and-lime-flavoured cashews and watching him try to pop them open.
I wanted to teach him things, fill him up with the goodness and light that I wished somebody would pour into me, like lamp oil. And I’d tried not to mind at the start, but now whenever Winter took him anywhere alone, I would pace and ache and act all aloof, like I didn’t care, while I fretted a thousand frets. Basically, I acted fourteen and in love, which is what I was. Or were we fifteen now? It felt strange not to know.
‘Let’s take him up to the bell tower,’ I said to Winter one evening, betting she’d say no and I would have him to myself. ‘We can show him the sun setting over the sea. We want to cultivate an artistic sensibility in this guy, am I right? Painters love sunsets.’
‘I don’t think he can see that far,’ she said doubtfully, but of course that’s not the reason why she wouldn’t come.
‘Suit yourself.’ And to Edward I said, ‘Come on, you big potato. Let’s go and get you a poet’s soul.’
Lucky for me he was tuckered out by the time we reached the top, had hardly made it up all 362 steps, or he could have caused all kinds of problems if he’d really been sniffing around.
Though it was tricky now the bear had got so plump, I scooped that rascally guy up in my arms and nuzzled him, did the thing where we rubbed our noses like Eskimos (Inuits?), swung him high over my head and turned him upside down so his fur flipped and he looked like a baby with a comb-over, all serious eyes and plump belly, and I seem to remember he had fat rolls on his thighs but maybe that’s just wishful thinking. I’d pretty much forgotten the sunset by then; it wasn’t nearly as eye-popping and spectacular as my love for Edward. As I’d tried to tell Winter, I could practically see my feelings for him streaking across the sky like the northern lights. But I knew, I just knew, that she thought she loved him more. Not that it was a competition or anything, but you try being a twin—it’s hard not to always be measuring yourself.
‘Now, usually you’re not allowed up here, you scamp,’ I said to the cub as I spun him around. ‘And if someone comes, no matter how official they seem, they’re not allowed either, okay? Not terrorists, not tech dudes in baseball caps, and not you ever again, you roly-poly dream. Ooooh! I could eat you up. This is where the SECRETS are, and you’re Just. Too. Silly. To understand those.’
I wasn’t actually joking about any of that, and maybe that bear could understand more than I thought, because I swear he frowned then and wriggled free of my arms, dropped to the ground and ambled over to the north arch to take a peek out at the world.