The girl in the turquoise jumper was second in the bookshop queue when I first saw her. She was standing somewhat awkwardly, with her head turned away at an uncomfortable angle and the heel of one foot slightly raised, holding the bend of her knee inwards against her other leg, like a small child desperate to use the lavatory. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, clutching a slim paperback book close to her body as if it was the dearest thing in the world.
I wanted to know that book.
As I stared at her from my place at the back of the queue, trying to make out the title of the book, the girl in
the turquoise jumper turned her head and caught my eye, and I looked away in embarrassment.
Was she beautiful?
Perhaps, perhaps not. But she was more than beautiful to me; she was utterly captivating. And I knew, even then,
that I'd never forget her. Her bewilderment was beguiling. It was borne from an air of melancholy, a siren song to
me. I was drawn to her fright; the natural fright of an animal in a strange place. I sensed in her a lack of
confidence equal to my own. Not so much a lack of confidence in herself, but in the sanity and purpose of
everything around her, as if she couldn't understand what it was all about, what it was all for, what it was. It
was if she thought that at any moment the skies would suddenly boom and crash and the world would fall and we'd all
stop pretending, stop playing our endless games of civility, and revert to our true animal selves. She could see
the circle finally spinning out of control. Chaos: she could see it, she could smell the bones and blood beneath
skin, and it haunted her.
I could have been mistaken, of course. I could have been guilty of transferring my own fears and inadequacies to
her in order to find myself a kindred spirit. For all I knew, she could have been a supremely confident person. She
could have been fine and resolute and dauntless, perfectly content with her place in the world.
But I didn't think so.
Or, at least, I didn't want to think so.
And that's why I needed to know her book.
Her book would tell me who she was.
As the queue shuffled forward, I raised my eyes and looked over again at the girl in the turquoise jumper.
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