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- Herausgeber: Knights Of
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
"This is a novel filled with love―not only Keedie's love for Addie but McNicoll's for young neurodivergent people everywhere, and the brilliant and brave Keedie will inspire those children to be proud of who they are." The Bookseller Set in Juniper five years before IA Kind of Spark comes a powerful coming-of-age story from award-winning author Elle Mcnicoll. As Keedie and her twin Nina approach their fourteenth birthday, they seem to only be growing further apart. Keedie instead feels drawn to, and fiercely protective of, their quiet younger sister Addie – who on the surface is the opposite of loud and fiery Keedie, but in fact they have more in common than anyone knows. "A brilliant story of kindness, justice and just a little bit of revenge. Brash, bold and furious, just like Keedie herself." Lizzie Huxley-Jones Show Us Who You Are 9781913311650 The second book from the author of the award-winning middle-grade book A Kind of Spark 'Imaginative and assured' Observer When Cora's brother drags her along to his boss's house, she doesn't expect to strike up a friendship with Adrien, son of the intimidating CEO of Pomegranate Technologies. As she becomes part of Adrien's life, she is also drawn into the mysterious projects at Pomegranate. At first, she's intrigued by them - Pomegranate is using AI to recreate real people in hologram form. As she digs deeper, however, she uncovers darker secrets... Cora knows she must unravel their plans, but can she fight to make her voice heard, whilst never losing sight of herself? With Neurodivergent characters you'll root for and a moving friendship at its heart, readers 9+ will love this powerful new novel from Elle Mcnicoll. 'Exhilarating and breathtaking' Just Imagine The Times Children's Book of the Week PRAISE FOR A KIND OF SPARK: WINNER OF THE WATERSTONES BEST BOOK FOR YOUNGER READERS AND OVERALL WINNER 2021 WINNER OF THE BLUE PETER PRIZE FOR BEST STORY 2021 SUNDAY TIMES CHILDREN'S BOOK OF THE WEEK THE TIMES CHILDREN'S BOOK OF THE WEEK WATERSTONES CHILDREN'S BOOK OF THE MONTH OCTOBER 2020
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Praise for A Kind of Spark
Winner of the Blue Peter Book Award (Best Story) 2020
Winner of the Waterstones Children’s Book Prize 2021
Blackwell’s Book of the Year 2020
‘This intensely readable little book punches well above its weight.’ The Guardian
‘Vividly drawn’ The Observer
‘Funny, astute debut … a big-hearted tale that shows compassion for all’ The Times
‘Remarkable debut … an involving story with a protagonist we root for’ Sunday Times
‘Beautifully judged … explores autism with great sensitivity’ iWeekend
‘Elle McNicoll’s touching story is for anyone who believes in friendship, family, being brave and making your voice heard.’ The Week Junior
‘A powerful book with a gentle touch’ BookTrust
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To Eishar: the best editor and Lauren: the greatest agent.
To Lola, Georgia and Caitlin.
My grandmother, who faced the worst witch-hunters in history and survived.
Once again, to the children with happy, flapping hands.
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Contents
Chapter One
Welcome to Juniper.
We are a small, Scottish town and we have centuries of history.
We also have bullies.
The bullies are just ahead by the river. There are three that I can see. It’s easy enough to watch them from my spot in the tree. High up, disguised in the dying green of autumn. Leaves fall to the ground, easily dislodged and cast down. Ready to die.
I’m not going to fall.
I’ve got a good grip on the tree branch but I need two hands to operate the water gun. It’s a large, heavy thing. The Al Capone of plastic pistols. It’s full of ice cold water and I’ve been waiting. Their laughter is forced and eerily high; they are all pretenders. It makes my hands tighten and my focus laser in.
2I don’t like pretenders. Plus, they were rude to Bonnie.
We’re in the woods by the Water of Leith, hidden in shade and silence but only a short walk from the bustling village of Juniper. Everyone in Juniper is preparing for the Founders Fair, which is why the shopkeeper was too distracted by other customers to worry about me purchasing his largest water gun.
I take aim and, just as Spence McLauchlan barks out another obnoxious laugh, I fire.
The cold liquid hits him square in the face, causing him to choke on the laugh. He yelps in confusion, while the rest of his little gang look up to the trees. They spot me instantly.
“Darrow?” Spence’s best friend Jack squints up at me in surprise. I don’t recognise the other boy with them.
Still. I hate a follower. So, I blast him next.
Then, they are all are soaked in freezing cold water. They sputter and gasp, but I do not relent.
“Where is the need?” shrieks Spence, throwing his arms up to protect himself.
I don’t answer. I leap from the tree, landing with ease upon the woodland path. For a moment, it seems that the earth moves beneath me. I stare them down 3and it feels like part of a Western movie. I always liked those scenes. When the gunslinger rides into town one last time to seek revenge. Bonnie said it was three of them who jumped out at her in the market, deliberately trying to make her scream. I don’t know if New Guy to Juniper was one of the three, but he can still learn a lesson today regardless.
“You go near Bonnie again,” I say calmly, “and nowhere in this village is safe for you.”
The water gun is empty, so I dump it at their feet. I turn to leave, heading towards the small uphill path that leads back to the main village. Back to Juniper. The woods always feel like an in-between, where more things are possible.
Not a lot of things feel possible in Juniper.
“Who is that?” I hear the unknown boy say to Jack, as Spence kicks the plastic toy with his shoe.
“Call me Keedie,” I shout over my shoulder, not looking back and speaking before they can. “I don’t like bullies.”
Chapter Two
The Darrow House is a slightly dilapidated place. If our street were the human body, our house would be a hairy big toe. Not the most attractive, but it still does the job. I always get in through the kitchen window because the front door is so heavy and cumbersome to open. The window is always left open for me. When I slide inside, Dad is cooking minestrone soup.
“Buenas noches,” he cries upon seeing me.
“Buenas tardes,” I correct.
Spanish is one of the subjects Dad talked me into taking up at school and I’m begrudgingly enjoying it. I peer into his soup cauldron. It smells incredible, but I always like the broth part more than the chunky vegetables. I’m particular about food and I go through phases of what I like. I can eat the same thing for 5thirty days in a row and then never want to see it again.
“Special occasion,” Dad says quietly.
I glance up at him. “What, since when?”
“Since Nina told Mum she’s having a boy over.”
My whole body temperature changes. “She did what?”
“Keeds,” he says softly, all while stirring the soup with precision and steady authority. “Behave.”
Nina is my twin and she has wanted to grow up since she learned what growing up is. When we played with dolls, I wanted to dress them in bright colours and have them perform in a fashion showcase. One where the winning designer got to go to Paris.
Nina wanted them all to wear the same thing, and get married to male dolls we bought in a charity shop with machine guns permanently attached to their arms.
We have been together since the womb, but no one is more of a stranger to me than Nina recently.
I head for the stairs. My hearing is sensitive enough that I can hear the grumbling of the old plumbing. I can pick up some of the neighbour’s television; they’re watching the news. I can hear the minor rattle of the autumn wind outside of our house.
6I follow the sound of Nina’s raised voice and find three people in Mum and Dad’s bedroom. Mum is standing with her back to the window, hair stuck to the light sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her hands are on her hips and she is slightly out of breath. Nina is lying front down on the bed and her face is pink.
My youngest sister, Adeline, sits calmly on Mum’s dressing table stool.
“What’s going on?” I demand. “Why’s a boy coming to tea?”
“Never mind that right now, your sister is stuck,” Mum exhales.
I look back to Nina. She is wearing a short black skirt in fake leather and Mum is quite right. The skirt is stuck on her hips and the zipper is broken.
“If you will buy from companies that employ small children to make the cheap clothes,” I say with a shrug.
Nina lunges for me.
“Enough!” Mum snaps. “Keedie, get my scissors. We’re going to have to cut her out.”
I slide Mum’s sewing drawer open and draw out the scissors.
“A little less gleefully, please,” Mum reprimands me, 7as I hand them over.
I just smile. Nina and I are a few weeks shy of turning fourteen and she has taken every opportunity since the “teen” came into our lives to leave childhood behind. I watch while she and so many other people in our year start moving to the sidelines. Their conversations become whispers behind hands. The groups become smaller, tighter and more difficult to infiltrate. The lunch hall turns into the United Nations. Each table is a different state with its own rules, and the slightest perceived insult can start a war.
Nina and her friends sit by the radiators. I float.
Social rules could be written down in ink; they would still be impossible for me to understand or follow. It’s all fine to me, though, I don’t need anyone. I’m completely all right by myself.
“Hold still,” Mum tells Nina, before sitting on her legs.
“Can’t we save it?” Nina whines, as Mum lines up the scissors.
“Yeah, Mum, it cost her all of three pounds,” I say dryly.
“Mum, make her go out!”
Adeline watches us. Her gaze is a little unfocused, 8but whenever I speak she examines me. She reacts to any increase of sound in the room, but if Mum said her name right now she would not respond. I know that for certain.
Nina glances over at her. “It’s okay, Adeline. It’s just a skirt, not skin.”
“Then stop screeching like it is,” Mum says firmly. “What’s she supposed to think when you wail like a banshee?”
She starts to cut and Nina kicks her legs like a baby and huffs.
“He’ll be here soon, now I’ll have to get changed.”
“Yes, into something sensible, please,” Mum replies.
“Who’s coming to dinner?” I prod.
“A friend from school, you don’t know him,” Nina snaps.
Nina is at the top of the food chain at school. I suppose that makes me some bioluminescent creature of the deep.
Adeline turns her head and I know why. I can hear the click in the downstairs door as well. It’s a tell-tale sign that the doorbell is about to ring, though Mum, Dad and Nina never anticipate it.
The shrill sound causes Nina to freeze, her 9squirming coming to an immediate halt.
“I’m dealing with hot stuff!” Dad’s voice calls up to us.
“Keedie, grab the door while Madam dresses,” Mum says.
“Don’t let her get it!” Nina gasps. “She’ll … be herself!”
For that, I run. I pummel down the stairs with a thrashing, defiant energy. I skid on the bottom step and almost snap my ankle. My hair, already too long as it brushes my waist, is almost draped across my face by the time I jerk the front door open.
“Welcome, Nina’s boy–”
The words die. It’s the boy from the woods. The one I didn’t know.
“Keedie,” he says, pointing at me with both forefingers and grimacing. “I remember.”
Chapter Three
The six of us sit around the dinner table. The one we never eat at. Unless it’s Christmas Day. I would much rather be having soup in my room where it’s not as cold. Great-Grandmother Astrid is staring at me from her photograph on the wall and I feel a pinch of guilt. I’ve been meaning to visit her at Minster Court. She is gruff and curt, but I know she misses me.
The new boy blows on the soup before eating it.
“So, Hugh,” Mum says swiftly, causing me to start. “How are you finding it, back in Juniper? I remember your family from before you all moved to Glasgow.”
He smiles gamely. “Small. But nice.”
Nice. The perfect word for Juniper. It certainly prides itself on its niceness.
“Everything is small compared to Glasgow,” Dad points out.
11“Sure,” Hugh agrees flatly.
Silence falls again. Nina glances at him and frowns. “Is it raining?”
Hugh is puzzled. “No.”
“Your hair’s wet.”
I smile against my soup spoon.
“So,” Hugh turns to the youngest. “You must be Adeline, who Nina never shuts up about.”
“Oh, yes,” Mum says, her face creasing into a beam. “Adeline was Nina’s baby, as soon as I brought her home from the hospital. She adores her.”
Nina smiles, but there’s a tinge of worry in her eyes as we all watch the little girl at the end of the table. Nina knows her adoration is not about to be returned by the child. Nina loved doing the changing and the carrying and the dressing and the fussing. But it certainly seems to have been in vain.
Adeline. A little stranger in the house. The quietest of all of us. A term into school, having already started as late as possible, and a bafflement to teachers.
“She’s not very chatty,” Dad says hastily, when Hugh looks confused. “She’s very internal.”
I bite my tongue. Like I always do. Internal. Fine.
Adeline is not eating minestrone. She is having 12thinly cut chicken slices and white bread with the crusts cut off.
“Nice to meet you, Adeline.” Hugh tries again, raising his voice this time. “How old are you, then?”
Adeline says nothing. The answer is ‘six’ but she does not give it, or even look at Hugh. He loudly repeats the question, one final attempt at conversing.
“She can hear you,” I say quietly, sipping some water.
He glances over at me, for the first time since our almost collision at the front door. “Oh.”
“Your family has historically been in Juniper for ages,” Mum says, quickly redirecting the conversation. She is to talking what an oar is to a boat. She helps conversation move smoothly and calmly through tricky waters.
I’m an anchor. I bring everything to a stop.
“Yes,” Hugh says. “We’re one of the oldest names in the village. My ancestor was one of the founders. It’s one of the reasons Dad wanted to come back. He didn’t like being a little fish in a big pond.”
“We won’t be here long after dinner,” Nina announces. Her sudden change of topic is a little jarring. “The Youth Club are having a disco.”
“Wow,” I murmur, around a bite of bread. “Studio 1354 is quaking.”
“That sounds great fun!” Dad says loudly, his words covering mine before they can cause any awkwardness.
“You should take Keedie with you.”
Perhaps Mum is not an oar after all. The words cause me to choke on a bite of bread, so forcefully that Dad has to thump me on the back. The tiny piece of crust flies out of my mouth and lands in my soup bowl with an undignified splash.
“No, thanks,” I croak, my voice a rasping sound. My eyes are watering.
“Nonsense,” Mum says with a steely look. “Twins go together.”
It’s an unofficial family motto. We’ve always been each other’s chaperones.
“She wouldn’t enjoy it,” Nina says stiffly, her gaze pinned on me with a mixture of terror and disgust. I roll my eyes. As if I am desperate to follow Nina and her rancid friends around for an evening.
“Keedie goes or no one does,” Mum says, and she holds Nina’s eyes.
I can’t read whatever is silently communicated between them.
“Fine,” Nina says, her chair screeching as she 14suddenly stands. “Well, we’re heading there now. It’s already dark.”
“It’s November in Scotland,” I say, around a dainty spoonful of soup. “It got dark at eleven this morning.”
“Now or never,” Nina reiterates, in a cheerfully threatening voice. Hugh obediently gets up as well, smiling politely at Mum and Dad.
“Thank you for a delicious dinner,” he says meekly.
“Not at all,” Mum simpers, while Dad nods.
“Give me five minutes to change,” I say, throwing my napkin on the table.
“No, Keedie, just be normal,” Nina pleads.
Normal. I could laugh.
“If I’m going out with the Juniper youths, I want to be in uniform,” I retaliate.
Hugh looks curious at this. For all he knows, I might come back downstairs in a Halloween costume. Like the back end of a pantomime horse.
The three of us walk the quiet cobbled streets of Juniper towards the main part of the village, where the Youth Club is. It was once a hall for bowling, but that changed when the founding members died and 15the teenagers started lurking around the park pond. They send us here now, every Friday, so that we’re in one spot and not outside someone’s garden.
When you’re small, there are a hundred things for you to do. Adults don’t mind the sight of you. Then something changes. The spaces disappear and you’re met with suspicion and distaste, wherever you go. But you’re not an adult. You can’t access the world.
You’re just expected to wait.
I’m wearing a dress made entirely of pink tulle. It makes me look like walking candyfloss. I’m so cold, but Nina is mortified and that’s all that matters. I can feel her new friend staring at me.
“How come you never mentioned your twin?” Hugh asks Nina in a hushed voice. The street is completely deserted; there is no way to have an unheard conversation in Juniper, least of all at night. The curtains literally twitch as we make our way to the Youth Club.
“What is there I can say?” Nina says, eyeing me in dazed horror as I saunter along in my fuzzy pink dress.
“She’s embarrassed by me,” I tell Hugh casually.
“Not true,” bristles Nina.
It wasn’t always true. We used to be close. We would 16dress up in feather boas and scream ABBA songs at each other. It’s the only music we’ve ever agreed on.
When we reach our destination, it’s lit up in rainbow-coloured lights. But the clothes are far from vibrant. Everyone is wearing a variation of the same outfit.
Conformity must breathe like cotton.
The main part of the hall has been cleared of chairs and turned into a dancefloor, with a side room for people’s coats and a snooker table. Some of the boys are playing, while a handful of girls watch.
If the girls wanted a shot at playing, their chance has been snatched away from them, and they look too reticent to challenge the situation.
Nina and I are thirteen but we will be some of the oldest ones here; the big kids all go into town on Friday and Saturday nights.
“Ni-Ni!”
Nina’s so-called best friend Heather staggers towards us in high heels she can barely walk in. Nina’s face transforms into a beaming smile, one I know to be fake. They air kiss and then Heather steers Nina and Hugh towards the dance floor and the rest of their clique. I might as well be a roll of faded wallpaper.
17There’s Spence and Jack and Sophie and Kim. Nina’s whole entourage. They all glare at everyone else in the room, deliberately looking people up and down and laughing at the more shy or uncertain members of the Youth Club.
Hugh throws a look back to me. “Is your sister coming?”
“No,” Nina says quickly. “The music will overwhelm her.”
“Sure, it will,” I call back to them, as I linger by the door. “I’m overwhelmed by how awful it is.”
Nina gives me a thunderous look. I turn away and find a corner to stand in. I sway to music in my head. I can do that. I can press play in my brain and an album plays. I can also watch films in my mind. I only need to see a film once or twice before its memorised, frame by frame. It makes long car journeys easier.
I told Nina about it once and she said I was lying and that no one could do that.
So, I recited all of her favourite films for her.
Now she doesn’t bother calling me a liar, she just stops listening.
“You look like bubblegum.”
18I turn to see a girl on my left. She’s in the year below Nina and me. She’s staring at my pink dress, as if she has never seen colourful fabric before.
“Thanks,” I say.
She frowns. “You’re not worried people are staring?”
“Are they?”
I glance about the hall. A few people are looking over at me, it’s true. That is a daily occurrence. Some are glaring, some are curious.
“I don’t worry about things like that.”
The girl opens her mouth to say something else and then stumbles slightly. I look down at the floorboards. A snooker ball is still moving slightly on the ground. It must have hit her on the leg. We both look back to the snooker table, where the boys are now laughing. The one holding the cue more than anyone. He makes his way towards the ball. ignoring the girl he hit. She steps back meekly as he approaches.
And then it happens. It’s this unnameable thing. Other people have stops in their heads, like the barriers that come down to block a car from driving across train tracks. Other people keep certain words and behaviours inside, the barriers come down and they don’t act. They wait.
19I don’t have those barriers. Never have.
I snatch up the snooker ball and wrap my fingers around it.
“Give it here,” the boy says authoritatively. “Now.”
I hold on even more tightly. “Apologise to her.”
He glares at the girl, I think her name is April, as if he is only just noticing her. “What?”
“You hit her with this,” I say. “Apologise and I’ll give it back.”
He glances back at the other boys. They are all watching in fascination, waiting to see what he’ll do. There is a moment of panic in his face, but he quickly masks it with bravado.
“No way,” he says. He doesn’t sound as confident anymore, but the words are loud enough for everyone to hear over the music.
The unnamed thing in my head clicks again. I move towards the snooker table and climb on top of it. The horrified and stunned faces of my classmates and neighbours stare up at me, as I stand firmly in the middle of the table.
“Apologise,” I say serenely. “Or I’m not getting off this table.”
April looks amazed and the boy looks incredulous. 20The lights suddenly come on, the florescent ones that make my sinuses pinch, and the music stops.
“Young lady, get down from that table.”
Mr Macintosh, the town assemblyman, is standing by the door with two mothers who were chaperoning. All three of them are glaring at me.
“Have you any idea how many health and safety rules you’re breaking right now?” Mr Macintosh splutters. His whole body is vibrating with indignation. “Get down!”
I turn to look at the boy. He looks so small from up here.
“I’m sorry,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “All right? I’m sorry.”
I instantly drop the ball. It hits the table with a dull thud, and I jump down. The whole hall, which moments ago was thumping and teeming with noise and bustle, is now hushed and still. The rest of Juniper’s youths are glaring at me. Only Nina’s new friend Hugh looks on in something other than distaste. He looks intrigued. And April. She looks staggered.
“Lord, Nina,” Heather says loudly. “Your sister is such a freak.”
The words are met with silence. I wonder just how 21many other people are thinking it. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that, and it won’t be the last. I pause, hesitate, just a moment to see if anyone else will rebuff it. If anyone else will step forward and challenge her.
No one does.
I walk to the exit, slowly and leisurely. I take my time as Juniper stares on.
I don’t care about being alone. If other people are the alternative, if thesepeople
