Two Fish

thirteen || alaska

Alaska was angry. She had the potential to be quite a tempestuous girl and being shunned by her friend did nothing to settle her fury, which seemed to always be bubbling under the surface.

She made it a hat trick, going out again for the third day in a row. It was Thursday, though that didn’t matter during the holidays. She didn’t have school for more than five weeks and it wouldn’t be long before she had lost track of the day altogether. It usually only took a week, maybe ten days, before she was lost in a haze of her messed-up sleeping pattern. As a seventeen-year-old, she felt it was her rite of passage to spend the holidays in a daze of half-awakeness.

Mrs Gouramie had prepared an early lunch for herself and her three children, fully expecting Alaska to retire to her room. It was quite a surprise when the girl stood, dusted herself down and announced to the room that she was going out.

“Where to?” her mother asked.

“Just out.”

“But you don’t go just out,” Noah said. Alaska clenched her teeth, still seething about Hannah’s blatant lie.

“I just want to get out of the house, I just need to get out,” she said, wringing her wrists.

“Ok, ok,” her mother said, sensing something her youngest children were ignorant to. “You go out and I’ll see you later, yes?”

“Yeah. Bye.” She set off.

“Love you, honey.”

“Love you too,” Alaska called from the front door. She pulled on her nearest pair of shoes and double strapped her rucksack. With the boots she had ended up putting on, she was halfway to looking like a crazy hiker. The rucksack, though, didn’t contain much in the way of sustenance, just her purse, her favourite lipstick and few half-empty tubes of mascara. Alaska was a notoriously light traveller, hating to be weighed down with unnecessary luggage. Not that she travelled much at all.

Minnie caught her at the end of the drive. “Where are you going?” she asked. Somehow, despite being at least a couple of inches shorter than Alaska, she managed to look down at her. “Are you seeing that boy, the one who was here the other day?”

“No.”

“So where’re you going?” Minnie folded her arms slowly.

“I just wanted to get out of the house.”

“But Lassie, you don’t do that. You’re being weird.”

“Hannah’s just being a bitch. I wanted to get out.”

“Fine.”

“I don’t need your approval,” Alaska spat. Minnie was unfazed.

“I never said you did. You go play with Elver.”

“That’s not where I’m going.”

“Whatever,” she said in a sing-song voice. She knew precisely how to rile her sister up. “See you later.” She winked and walked slowly back inside, knowing Alaska was watching her. The girl acted far beyond her thirteen years. Alaska kicked the gravel and stormed out of the drive, truly pounding down the pavement.

She walked with no particular direction, only stamping the route she already knew though she didn’t want to go to the park. It felt too big, too open and she felt vulnerable so she made her way to the only other place she felt vaguely content. It was a small-chain corner shop supermarket with wider aisles than the stifling newsagents but not quite as daunting as the looming megastore on the other side of town. She liked how the dairy aisle was colder than the freezer aisle, how she knew her way around blindfolded and the five people who manned the tills on rotation had learnt Alaska’s quirks. They knew not to touch her hand when they gave her change, not to make too much small talk and that it was normal for her not to look them in the eye when she spoke.

Going the normal way, the corner shop came before the park but Alaska verged off on a slightly longer route: she had time to kill and nothing to do but seethe about Hannah. She had walked past Hannah’s plain semi-detached house: both cars were in the driveway: the fool had banked on Alaska never leaving the house. She underestimated her friend and Alaska had overestimated hers.

It was warm and the park was full. Alaska winced at the sight of so many people, lying in clusters on the coarse grass; it was well maintained but the colour was a rather unfortunate turgid ochre. Mothers and children sat with picnics, a desperate attempt at entertaining the little darlings so early into the break. Alaska stuck to the other side of the road.

Among a row of dull brown and grey shops, the one on the end was a relief, brilliant white with multi-coloured lettering and floor to ceiling windows, alternating with floor to ceiling advertisements. The usual blast of heat when one crossed the threshold had been replaced with a jet of icy air, very welcome as it came close to the peak of the day’s heat.

The day needed a boost, she decided, and headed for the milk where she knew she could find an iced coffee, but she was stopped in her tracks by the sight of Hannah and a posse of her other friends, giggling and shoving each other as they came round the corner. Alaska backed away, panicking, and made it out before Hannah saw her looking so alone. She wanted to show Hannah up, and there was only one person to call.