Page 39 of The Second Chance Bus Stop
I have something hard in my throat, an invisible tennis ball, by the feel of it.
‘Cold?’
Shaking my head I turn to him. We’re in chairs, but only a few inches separate us and I wonder how we got his close. Didn’t he start out on that other log, over there, an hour ago?
‘I’m fine.’ I’m not, though. I’ve learnt that when Blade is this near me, I’m something else entirely.
‘What’s that?’ Blade ducks then jumps up from his chair.
‘If you mean that black thing that just touched your shoulder ever so slightly I’d say it’s probably a bat.’
‘A bat?A bat?’
‘They’re not dangerous. Bats are the only flying mammal. They’re very cool.’ I’m sharing scientific facts, which can only mean one thing: that I’m comfortable.
‘He just flew right at me. This one seems pretty aggressive.’
I laugh. ‘You’re scared. That’s sweet.’
‘Yes, I’m scared of insects and bats and all sort of nightly creatures that you normally avoid meeting because, you know, you don’t sleep in a forest. What else is there in Swedish forests? Don’t tell me there are wolves.’
‘Not in the south. Bears would be unusual as well.’
‘Wild cats? Badgers?’
I stare at him. And stare some more. I stare at this man who just vented his fear of wildlife and is now going through a mental checklist of the forest fauna.
God. OhGod.I think Ilikehim.
I’m not sure what time it is when I wake and sit upright, pulling the eye mask from my face. It’s raining again. I can hearit thudding against the roof. It always soothed me as a child, and I never slept better than to that drumming noise. Maybe I won’t need to imagine faces tonight, I thought as I climbed into bed earlier. The drumming is interrupted by persistent knocking, and I quickly throw my night shirt on.
Blade. Soaked by rain.
‘How can I help you?’ I say. His eyes search my face.
‘The tent is letting water in. I hate to impose on your space and a deal is a deal, but we are moving on to the next location tomorrow, and if I drown out there I’ll be of no use. You may even have to put your project on hold to dispose of my body, and then technically you’d be on the run from the authorities from then on out, and I don’t think that’s something you want to do. Which leads me to ask: Can I sleep on the sofa?’
The sofa is about half the length of Blade. I wouldn’t sleep there if you paid me. Which is why I stare at him unconvinced.
‘Technically that would be fine. Considering the drowning potential.Obviously.However, there may be some problems. One, I’d say the sofa is much too small for you.’
‘It apparently turns into a bed if we combine the chairs and table. The guy at the rental desk told me when I collected it.’
‘I doubt it will be a two-metre one.’ I eye him up as if trying to judge if I can fit his dead, drowned body into a given storage unit and if that would be a better option than the sofa.
‘I’ll make it work.’
‘Secondly, I sleep naked.’ It’s true: The fabric of clothes on my skin as I sleep is almost painful, but it’s not the main reason why him in my space is an unsettling thought. The main reason is a school field trip. Rooms with bunk beds, one room for the girls and one for the boys. I had begged not to go, but as Dad put it,It is compulsory, Sophia. Bloody hell,you can’t treat school like a drop-in club.I must have been utterly exhausted, worn-out from the new environment and a full schedule because I fell asleep. Heavily asleep until I wasn’t, because there was cold water on me and the boys’ were laughing and someone was shining a torch in my face and when I jumped out of bed to get away from the cold, sticky wetness my shirt was soaked and they could all see right through it. My mind flashes back to it automatically, I don’t think I’ve shared a room with anyone since.
‘So anyway.’ I wonder if I somehow should have padded that statement. I try to fix it. ‘Clothes bother me. When I sleep. They’re scratchy.’
‘Like the tag in my sweater.’
‘Yes, exactly like that.’
‘So. You. Sleep. Naked.’ He looks as if he’s just encountered the biggest problem during our trip so far which, considering the ant infestation on our first day, getting lost multiple times and the wet tent, seems bewildering. But then here we are, his eyes rising to the ceiling as if waiting for some help. I wait, hoping he tips his head just that a farther so his ridiculous beanie will finally fall off.
‘So—this isn’t usually a problem, except now we need to share the sleeping space. I stay strictly under my duvet so there is no real risk. Plus it will be dark.’
