t w e n t y - f o u r

*

Five hours later, after stopping at a petrol station on the way to grab something to eat, we're at our campsite. It's a rustic-looking place, a few wooden outbuildings making up the reception, a laundry room, and the bathrooms. Sam checks us in and drives us a short way down the track to a quiet, grassy patch surrounded by trees.

It's cooler here, and a lot greener. Gone are brown mountains and white salt, replaced by bushy trees and a bright blue sky that peeps between the leaves. The shade is delicious, keeping me cool as Arjun and I put up our tent between a couple of trees – we ace it this time, at last, and Young-mi is surprised at our success when she comes over to help – but I still need that cold shower. And maybe an electric shock, something to restart my head and my heart.

I've got it extra bad today. After last night's drinking and tonight's hangover and the way he's been, how tactile he's been, I can't think straight – I've never been able to think straight, but especially not right now. I need to sort myself out. I also need to do some laundry, but that can wait until I'm a little fresher, a little less ripe.

It's just gone four and the sun is hot and high, but the grass and the dappled shade provide some relief from the heat, and everyone is sprawled out across the grass between our tents. Young-mi has a towel over her shoulder and a washbag in her hand; Carrie and Ade are sitting together beneath a tree watching something on her phone; Brannan and the twins are all lying on their backs enjoying the gentle warmth. Arjun emerges from our tent with his book in his hand, his thumb marking that he's about two thirds of the way through The Song of Achilles. He adjusts his glasses – his contacts haven't reappeared since Seligman and it's doing something funny to my heart – and rakes his hand through his hair.

"You up for a reading sesh?" he asks, waving his book at me. I want to delve into those pages again, to nestle my heart between Achilles and Patroclus and let them break it all over again, but I'm just over halfway through my current read, and I never read more than one book at a time.

"Maybe after my shower," I say. "I feel very gross and in desperate need of a wash."

I delve into the tent to find my towel and toiletries and on the way out, I trip over the zip and smash into the hard ground with a groan. It's not that painful, nothing I'm not used to, but my knees are scraped and scuffed with dry, dusty mud when I stand.

"I'm good," I say before Arjun can ask if I'm ok, because I can tell by his alarm that he's about to ask. He nods when he looks me up and down and decides to believe me.

"Ok. You go shower," he says, his eyes flickering to my muddy knees and back to my face. "I'll see you in a bit."

I can't get to the shower quick enough. Everything he does and says lights a fire inside and I need to damp it down – or at least deal with the flames before I have to see him again – but I'm pulled to a stop by my phone ringing in my pocket. Flo's face and name fill my screen and I make a detour to a quiet spot behind the showers to answer.

"Hey, Flo," I say, before I realise the time it must be back home. "Isn't it a bit late for you?"

"It's seventeen minutes past midnight," she says. "Eighteen, now."

"That's late, Flo. How come you're not in bed? Are you ok? Is everything ok?"

"Yes, everyone's ok," she says. I can hear the tiredness in her small voice, making her sound even younger than her twelve years. "And I am in bed. I just miss you, March. You've been gone too long."

"I'll be home before you know it, Flo-mo," I say, finding a rock to perch on. It's so quiet here, nothing to be heard except the breeze in the trees and the occasional twitter of the bird above me. "Only eight more days."

"That's more than a week," she says. I know that quaver in her voice. It's late and she's tired and emotional, and she's about to cry. Flo spends so much of her time acting like a mini adult that it's easy to forget how young she is, that she's practically a baby as far as the world's concerned.

"It'll fly by, I promise." I try to inject as much warmth as possible into my voice, but it's no substitute for being there to comfort my little sister when she has a confidence wobble, when she gets a bit overwhelmed. "As soon as I get home, you'll be sick of me and you'll wish I was back in America!"

"No, never!" she cries out. She catches herself, hushing her voice when she says, "Home feels so weird without you and I want you back." She sniffs, a precursor to tears, and my heart breaks for her.

"Hey, Flo, don't get upset. It's one more week, and then I'll be with you for the rest of summer."

"Promise?"

"I promise. How're you doing? Aside from missing me."

"I'm ok."

"What'd you do today? Anything fun?"

I get her to talk me through her day – a barbecue with our cousins followed by a piano lesson and a drink with Dad – until she sounds a little less teary, a little more cheery. I know exactly how she feels. It's past midnight for her, the sky dark, and it's those times that my mind is most likely to slip into a dark place.

"I just wanted to hear you," she says quietly when she finishes telling me about the pieces she's learning at the moment. "Mum said you were probably really busy and I should wait for you to call again but I didn't want to wait. Are you really busy?"

"Not right now. I'm about to shower – we just went to Death Valley, where it was ... guess how hot it was."

There's a pause on the other end of the line and I know that, Flo being Flo, her guess will be anything but a guess. I can practically hear the cogs ticking in her brain as she sifts through everything she knows about Death Valley and geography and the climate and all the things that make her a freaking genius.

"Forty-seven?" she hazards, tentatively, after a long pause.

"Even hotter," I say. "Fifty-four."

She gasps and a flurry of questions pour out of her, and my smile grows as I answer each one, and I promise to send her a million photos as soon as I have WiFi. I'm in the middle of telling her about how even my knuckles and elbows were sweating when I hear the creak of a door on her end of the phone.

"Flo. What're you doing up?" comes Dad's voice, a soft murmur and a yawn. "It's way past your bedtime, hun. You need to put your phone away."

"I couldn't sleep. I'm talking to March," she says. Her words are followed by soft footsteps across her carpet, no doubt spotless in her impeccable room, and the sigh of bedsprings when – I imagine – Dad sits down on the edge of her bed.

"Hi, March," Dad says. "I know you're probably lying out in Californian sun right now, but here in rainy England, it's half midnight and your sister needs to get some sleep."

"I called him, Dad," Flo says. "I wanted to talk."

"Hey, Dad," I say. It's always so good to hear the voices of my family, something I never realised I was taking for granted until I got a bit of distance.

"How's it going over there, Scoobs?"

"Oh, you know. The usual. A bit overheated, rather lovesick, and quite hungry," I say, the words tripping out without permission. They take me by surprise, my attention snagged by lovesick. It has replaced heartbreak. My feelings for Arjun, I guess, have taken over the devastation that prompted me to book this trip.

Dad laughs and says, "Oh, I know the feeling. We've all been there."

"I haven't," Flo says. I hear the soft rustle of pillows and covers; I picture Dad tucking Flo in and stroking her hair, which she's probably wearing in two thick plaits, her glasses on her nightstand.

"And I hope, my little lady, you won't know that feeling for many years to come. As for you, March, are you handling everything all right?"

I think of Young-mi giving me condoms. I think of Klara asking me if Arjun and I have slept together. I think, all things considered, I'm doing pretty well so far. I have yet to spontaneously combust, although that is a risk if I don't get to the shower soon.

"I'm fine. I'll send photos later, and I'll be home in eight days. Hopefully with an intact heart."

"I hope so," Dad says. "If not, I've heard there's no glue stronger than a Dad hug, as long as you bring all the pieces home with you."

"I'll do my best."

"Now, it's high time Flo got some shut-eye, don't you think? Maybe we can talk to March again tomorrow, hun, but right now, I think it's best if we all get our heads down, ok?"

I agree with him and I tell Flo to sleep well, and I send my love to her and Dad and Mum and Pebs; when the dog jumps onto Flo's bed, she cuddles him for me. And then our goodbyes end the call, and I feel good. A little less distracted.

Until I spy my group in the distance, and I see Arjun tug off his shirt in one fluid move, and I watch him rub suncream into his skin – all over his arms and chest and abs and face – and I can't tear my eyes from him until he lies down, out of my view.

It's beyond time for a shower.

*

My quick cold shower becomes a long hot one when my thoughts wander too far and I have to relieve a little tension, my thoughts filled with Arjun, but I finish with a blast of icy water to wake me up and cool me down before I head back to the tent with a clearer head.

On my way out, I bump into Arjun. Not literally, for once in my life, although I do jump when he's right there when I open the door, and I drop my soap. He swoops to pick it up and I refuse to cast my eyes over his semi-naked body when I've just dealt with that.

"How's the water?" he asks.

"Good. Um, it's good. Hot. And cold."

He laughs. "Alrighty. Sounds good to me," he says. "Hey, are you going to be doing any laundry while we're here?"

"Oh, yeah. I need to put a load on," I say, towelling my hair for something to do.

"Want to share a load?" he asks. "Save time and money."

"Sounds good, yeah. I could put it on while you're in the shower," I say, because I don't know what else to say.

"Ooh, in that case..." He wraps his towel around his waist and my cheeks flush when I realise he's taking off his shorts and underwear right in front of me, clutching the corners of his towel in one hand. He folds everything together, his boxers hidden inside his shorts. "My dirty stuff's in the red drawstring bag, and I have a bunch of quarters in my wallet, in the outside pocket of my bag. Oh, and I think Carrie has some detergent."

I nod at everything he says like one of those stupid bobbleheads, trying not to overthink the fact that I'm holding his shorts and his pants, that I'm about to handle his laundry and dig around his wallet.

"No problem," I say at last. "I'll get right on it."

"Cheers, that's great," he says, barely holding onto his towel with his finger and thumb. One little twitch and he'll be stark bollock naked, and I need to banish that image because I just had a fucking shower and the whole time, he was all I could think about.

Ok, I can do this. There's nothing remotely sexy about laundry and dirty pants and socks. I check the machines first and I grab Arjun's and my stuff, and I take exactly half the cost of the machines from his wallet. Two dollars for a wash: I take four quarters from him, and four that I dig out of the bottom of my bag, and I don't even have to ask Carrie for detergent. She sees me approaching with an armful of clothes and she throws me a pod.

Once everything's in the slow washing machine and I have a timer set for an hour, I unroll my sleeping mat next to Young-mi and I lie down beside her. She blearily opens her eyes at the disturbance, and rolls over when she sees it's me.

"Hi, March," she says.

"Hi." The word comes out weary.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Mmhmm." I don't feel hungover anymore, at least.

"Are you mad at me still?"

My eyebrows furrow. "When was I mad at you?"

"Today, for my gift," she says, and it comes rushing back. Her gift last night, condoms and lube and, I guess, her blessing.

"Oh. No, I'm not mad. I was just ... surprised. I wasn't expecting that," I say. I lie on my stomach, my arms folded under my head, and I watch her as I talk. She's in an identical position, her hair wet from a much quicker shower than mine.

"It was not to upset you," she says, her words slow and careful as though she's walking on eggshells around me.

"You didn't upset me, I promise. I was joking about being angry."

"Ok. Good. It was just ... you like him and he like you, and you share a room yesterday, all night. I thought, just in case, it wa-"

"Wait, wait, hold up a moment." I push myself up onto my elbows. "You just said he likes me."

"Yes?" She squirrels her eyebrows. "It is easy to see."

"Do you mean you think he likes me, or you know he likes me because he has actually, explicitly told you that he likes me?" I ask, leaning closer to her. My eyes are probably a little wild right now, my face a little earnest, but I know Arjun's in the shower and my heart is thrumming right now.

"He says nothing," she says. "I haven't asked. But he is flirty – to me, from my eyes, it look like he like you a lot. When we drove, before, I saw you sleeping on him, and he did this." She reaches out to touch my hair the way Arjun did, her fingers softly rubbing my damp scalp. "You looked ... together. I thought maybe last night, you were together."

"No." I sigh a heavy sigh. "I wish. I mean, we were together, but not like that. We just hung out and had some drinks and played games. And then my ex texted me and I got mad at him, and a bit upset."

"Oh. I'm sorry, March."

"It's fine," I say. It's my go-to response, and I backtrack when I realise it's not true. "Ok, no, it's not fine. My ex won't leave me alone – I had to block his number last night – and I am totally, completely, agonisingly in love with someone who doesn't seem to realise that I like him, or that he is driving me wild every time he touches me."

"I don't think he doesn't know," Young-mi say after a long pause. She speaks tentatively, testing out each word. "I think that he knows. He is blind if he can't see – your feelings are all over your face. Maybe he is not sure. Maybe he is figuring out feelings."

I hope so. I can deal with him figuring out his feelings; I can help him with that.

"On the bus, before, I saw you," she says, dropping back onto her front and closing her eyes. "He is like boyfriend to you, holding your hand and your head. But I don't know. Maybe he don't know too."

"I know. Thanks, Young-mi."

"Any time," she says, reaching across the distance between us to hold my hand. "If he find out what he likes – it will be you – please tell me. You two, I think, will be good."

Her faith in Arjun and me gives me the slightest hint of faith that maybe that could be a thing in the future, that I won't have tortured myself over him for nothing. Maybe she's right. Maybe he's questioning himself; maybe he doesn't yet know who or what he is. I got lucky, really. I've always known who I am and until now, it hasn't caused me any grief.

"Sorry for being such a whingey disaster," I say. "I'm not a good friend. How're you?"

"You are not bad friend," she says, wagging a finger at me. "And I am good. Warm and happy, like puppy in sun." She rolls onto her back and stretches out to illustrate her point, exposing a light brown strip of her stomach. On instinct, she tugs her t-shirt down to cover herself before she sits up and fingers the hem. "I think it is too hot for so many clothes."

"It is very hot."

"You think it is ok if I take this off?" she asks me.

"Of course." I nod over at the twins, both of whom are lying out in skimpy bikinis as the sun slowly bronzes their pale bodies. Young-mi still looks unsure, though. "As long as you're wearing a bra or something," I say.

"Yes." She hooks her finger under the strap of her sports bra and after a moment's hesitation, she slips off her t-shirt and lies back down with her hands over her stomach. "I am never so naked," she says in a whisper, even though she's still wearing shorts and a sports bra. "My mama says bikinis are for skinny girls and I am too big to show my skin."

"Your mama's a mean liar," I say. "You have an amazing body, and everyone who wants to wear a bikini can wear one."

Young-mi blushes and covers her stomach, striped with faint stretch marks. I've never understood what the big deal is with stretch marks - Lily absolutely despised hers and any time I touched them, she cringed, but I was never trying to draw attention to them. I just really liked the texture. When I eventually explained that, she called me a weird dork, but she stopped flinching when my fingers traced over her stomach.

Young-mi lifts her hips to hitch up her shorts to her belly button, loosening the drawstring so they don't dig in. "You never take off your top," she says.

It's only an observation but after what I've just said, I can't exactly say that I don't like my body enough to expose it. Arjun's not around, it's just the two of us, so I tug off my t-shirt and bunch it up under my head before I can change my mind. Young-mi laughs and grins at me.

"We match!" she says, and I'm not sure what she means until she rolls onto her side and shows me silvery scar tissue down one side. I touch the long, thick scar that covers my ribs on my left.

"What's yours from?" I ask.

"I fell off my bike," she says. "Long time ago, not a big deal. You?"

"Car accident, a few years ago," I say.

"Was it bad?"

"I smashed up four of my ribs and my leg, and I had a bad concussion. The doctors thought my dad was going to die, but we were both ok in the end. Fit as a fiddle."

Young-mi looks absolutely horrified, her hand clapped over her mouth. "That is horrible!"

"It was, at the time," I say. It's not something I like to think about, but it's something I have to think about every time I see myself in the mirror, every time someone sees my scar. For a couple of years after that, I really struggled with the idea of mortality. Sometimes those fears creep back. "But, hey, we're fine now. I'm still standing."

"You are lying down," she says. The blunt fact breaks the slight tension and I can't help but laugh; she laughs too. I move to lie on my front and I shift closer to her. She pats my head, brushing my hair off my face.

"March?"

"Mmm?"

"I think," she says, slowly, "you are one of my favourite people."

"I think you're one of my favourite people too," I say. There's no doubt about it, no matter the fact that I've known her for all of a week. Sometimes you just know, like how I just know that I am head over heels for Arjun.

"I love you, March," she says, her voice quiet and sleepy and happy. It puts a smile on my face. I reach out and my hand finds her wrist; I hold it.

"I love you too, Young-mi."

*

friendship and family are so important to me and they're themes that will always be present in all my works (if you couldn't tell from my sprawling family trees with a bajillion generations and huge families!). i really hope you enjoyed this chapter!

tomorrow I'm tied up all day with graduation so seeing as I've managed to write over 30k for this story in 8 days, today will be an off-schedule double!