Paper Walker

Chapter 16

While Sorley changes his outfit, I look up, squint my eyes and run to the guest room. That is, if you can call my wobbling, running. Over there I fish my sunglasses out of my bag. Did I bring sunblock? No, of course not. That thought hadn't crossed my mind when I packed. But grandma Meghan probably has some.

In a hurry, I trot to the main area where I find her in the living room.

"Do you have sunblock?"

"Sunblock? Oh, yes, I think so. Good thinking, you don't want to get burned." She stands up, rummages in a closet and then holds up a bottle that makes me doubt if the factor still is fifty. Isn't that number cut in half after a year? Then by now it's five at most, because that bottle looks ancient.

However I put on a sunny smile and with a thank you, I walk back outside.

I take the cast of my leg and put a little extra sunblock on my pale skin. After that I cover the rest of my exposed skin. The deck chair can't recline completely, so I don't need to be bothered about my back.

When Sorley returns, I giggle a bit about his white legs. I just can't help myself.

Holding the bottle up, I ask: "Shall I do it?"

I expect a witty return, or at least a suggestive smirk, instead he throws me a curious glance and looks down. Is he shy? I've rubbed in boys legs before. On beach days they always yell that they have to do the heavy lifting and pay for ice creams, so we have to repay them by rubbing in sunblock. By now Isla en me at least earned a certificate for masseuse.

Do I have to let it go and give him the bottle, or should I push? I decide to go with the latter. He should just get used to it that I will touch his legs as easily as his arms.

"Come on, get in your chair. My right shoulder is getting redder than my left and I want an equal tan, please."

Now he lifts one corner of his mouth together with one eyebrow. That's better. Obediently he moves from his wheelchair onto the deck chair – I'm admiring the muscles in his arms – and positions his legs.

When I squeeze a big white stripe from the bottle, he yelps: "Sure, go and make a mess of it."

"I have to", I shout in my defence. "This is a bottle from the dark ages, you may be lucky if it protects you even a little bit. And your legs are so white. Just because you don't feel anything, doesn't mean they have to get sunburned."

I begin to smear the sun block and look at his face after a while. That curious expression is back. When I lift my eyebrows, he says: "Doesn't it bother you?"

Now I frown. "Bother? Why? Because I touch your legs? I've touched so many boys legs before."

Okay, that came out totally wrong and laughing, I explain: "On the beach, with my friends."

His smile is tentative, not a full out laugh yet. I keep rubbing and don't look up until I'm finished. The strange expression is not entirely gone yet.

"Do you think I find it strange to touch your legs while you're not feeling anything?"

Sorley heaves a deep sigh and nods reluctantly. "I's stupid, I know. It actually has nothing to do with you. Most, well, almost most people who touch my legs, beside myself, are gran and doctors. That's different. With you ... Maybe I was unwittingly hoping that I would miraculously, suddenly felt something, merely because it's you." He hunches his shoulders with a dim smile and I smile with him.

Yeah, that thought had crossed my mind as well.

Grinning I say, as cheerfully as possible: "Well, just because I can walk through books, doesn't automatically mean I can perform miracles."