Breathing Underwater by Julia Green Page B

day. Really busy. The campsite’s packed.’
    â€˜Oi! Stop chatting!’ Matt puffs past us after the ball. ‘Come on! You’re on our side, Freya.’
    My cheeks go hot. Izzy doesn’t notice. She chases after Matt and I’m left standing there like a loser, so I make myself run too. Danny waves to me from the other end of the field.
    â€˜Freya!’ a voice calls.
    The ball bounces past me and rolls into the gorse bushes at the edge of the field. I run after it. Matt gets there first and we almost collide.
    â€˜Whoa!’ he says. He puts his hand on my arm, and all the rest of the game I can feel the place, like a burn. I know it’s mad, but he’s so totally gorgeous. Then Danny comes over and I forget about Matt for a while. He’s caught a whole load of mackerel for the barbecue and he’s dead proud of himself. He’s OK, Danny. I like the way he gets enthusiastic about things. It’s so not how most boys are, back home.
    Danny’s side win, but it doesn’t matter. We play until the sun’s gone down and it’s too dark to see the pitch. Izzy and Matt have left already to start a fire on the beach at Periglis.
    Some of the younger kids go back to the campsite. The rest of us join Izzy and Matt on the beach. We gather round the fire in a rough sort of circle. Danny comes over to sit next to me. We watch the sparks spiralling into the sky each time someone adds another log to the fire.
    After a while, Izzy stops people piling more wood on. ‘It needs to be white-hot for cooking, not flaming like this.’
    Matt and Lisa lay sausages and burgers on a grill balanced between two rocks over the glowing logs. Danny adds the fish, tail to head alternately. He sprinkles herbs on them.
    â€˜Freshly picked?’ I say.
    He grins. ‘’Course.’
    A dog comes nosing along the beach. It’s Bonnie, from the farm, snuffling out the crisps and bread people have dropped. She can smell the meat cooking. She comes when I call her, and sits right close to me, leaning into my legs. I smooth her head and she wags her tail in circles. Her ears are warm and silky under my hand.
    Everyone watches Izzy. Her hair is frizzy from sea-spray, from the heavy dew that fell those last minutes on the field after the sun went down. It’s spotlit by firelight, an orange glowing halo around her oval face. She’s stripped down to a thin sleeveless T-shirt. Each time she leans forward, I glimpse the curve of her body. I can’t help it. Matt sees too. Danny, Will, everyone. Joe too, if he was here. My skin prickles. I bend down and hug Bonnie.
    Everyone helps themselves to food. Some of the older kids pass round cans. Some of them light up cigarettes. Danny and I go quiet, watching and listening. We’re the youngest people left, now. The lighthouse beam goes round: two sweeping beams every twelve seconds, lighting up the rocks, guiding ships to safety. As the night gets darker, the beam seems stronger and brighter.
    Matt and Will are talking about this theory that humans evolved from apes who lived in water, not land, and that’s why we don’t have fur and why we can control our breathing when we dive, and need to eat fish, and walk upright and stuff. I listen. It makes a lot of sense.
    â€˜It’s late,’ says Danny. ‘I’ve got to get back.’
    â€˜Me too.’
    Izzy gives us a little wave but no one else notices when we get up to leave. We walk single-file along the narrow footpath at the top of the beach, back to the campsite.
    Danny peels off towards his tent. ‘See ya!’ he says. ‘Sweet dreams.’
    Electric light from the washrooms floods the top field. I make my way through the gate. After that, the lane seems extra dark. A dog barks as I go past the farm. My Tilly?
    It’s pitch-black, but not scary. The dark seems gentle and soft, folding round me. There’s no wind, and no moon. The first part of