Cotterill - A Storm of Strawberries (US)

This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the authors imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An imprint of Bonnier Publishing USA

251 Park Avenue South, New York, NY 10010

Text copyright 2017 by Jo Cotterill

Cover illustration by Ramona Kaulitzki

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Yellow Jacket is an imprint of Bonnier Publishing USA, and associated colophon is a trademark of Bonnier Publishing USA.

Interior design by Vronique Sweet

Manufactured in the United States of America

Originally published in Great Britain in 2017 by Piccadilly Press, an imprint of Bonnier Zaffre Ltd.

First U.S. Edition

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

ISBN 978-1-4998-0838-4

yellowjacketreads.com

bonnierpublishingusa.com

For anyone who feels that the world is a confusing place

My sister, Kaydee, is the most beautiful person in the world. She doesnt believe it, and she hates me telling her. She says, Oh, stop it, Darby, Im totally not. My nose is too big and my thighs are too fat, and I have zits that are just ugh . And if I tell her again that shes beautiful, she gets mad and wont speak to me.

Its funny, because I like it if someone tells me Im beautiful. Mom tells me Im beautiful, and it makes me feel warm and happy, not mad and upset.

When Kaydees friend Lissa met me for the first time, she said to Kaydee, Whats wrong with your sister? and Kaydee went all pink and said, Nothings wrong with her. Dont say that. She has Down syndrome. It makes her look a bit different from other people.

Lissa sort of wrinkled up her nose. I wrinkled up my nose too because the way she spoke was stinky. And actually Lissa was kind of stinky too, with a lot of perfume. So I said, You smell, and Kaydee gasped and said, Darby! Thats rude! and Lissa said, Its body spray. You should try it sometime. Not that Im saying you need it

That confused me, because I couldnt figure out what she meant. Did I need it, or didnt I? Sometimes people say one thing and mean another, which makes me mixed up.

Kaydee took a breath and said, Lissa, Darby is my sister and I love her more than anything. Darby, Lissa is my friend and I dont want you to be horrible to her. All right?

Well, she cant be horrible to me , I said firmly. Kaydee nodded. She wont be. I promise.

I live with Kaydee and my mom and my dad and my brother on a strawberry farm. People always look really interested when I tell them that. Not many people live on a strawberry farm. How lovely! they say. Being able to eat strawberries all the time!

No one wants to eat strawberries all the time. The only thing I want to eat all the time is chocolate.

My brother, Olly, is actually my stepbrother, and he cant eat strawberries. Hes fifteen and hes allergic. If he eats a strawberry, he gets a rash all over and then he cant breathe. Hes got a special injection that looks like a pen, in case it happens. Its kept in the kitchen drawer and I am definitely not allowed to touch it.

Kaydee is sixteen. Im twelve. Mom is thirty-six, and my dad, Paul, who is actually my stepdad, is forty-six. If you add up all our ages, you get a big number. If you added in all the ages of all the people who also work on the farm, youd get an even bigger number. And if you added in the ages of the two dogs and the cat well, youd need a calculator.

Today is Friday, but its spring break, so Im not at school. Instead, Kaydee and I are sitting at the kitchen table. She is on her phone. I am doing painting by numbers. Its where you have a black-and-white drawing and you have to color it in, and little numbers tell you which color to put where. I looooove painting by numbers. Almost as much as I love music. In fact, the world is perfect right now, because I have my earphones in and I am listening to my favorite songs while I paint.

years ago when my stepdad asked me what my favorite songs were, I played him lots, and then he said, Would you like to hear one of my favorites? It was by a boy band from the last century and it was about a woman who kept her face in a jar by the door. Dad said, Listen, Darby, this is such a clever song.

I thought it was weird. I wouldnt want to keep taking my face off and putting it on again. It would be really annoying. And the song wasnt the sort you could dance to.

Dad said, Dont you think its clever, Darby?

I didnt think it was clever. But I like Dad and I didnt want to hurt his feelings, so I shrugged and said, Yeah.

The tune from the chorus stayed in my head for weeks, though.

There is one other thing that is making me perfectly happy, and that is the thought of the chocolate hunt. On Sunday, in two days, it is Easter, and at Easter we do a chocolate egg hunt. Mom buys four bags of small chocolates wrapped in colored foil and she hides the chocolates in the yard, in plants, and between the stones and places like that. The rest of us go around trying to find them. If you find one, you get to put it in your basket. We have special baskets that are years old. We always use the same ones. Mine is green. Kaydee laughs and makes fun of the chocolate hunt but she still does it. Even Olly, who pretends nothing is fun apart from video games, turns up for it.

I love the chocolate hunt. I look forward to it for months. Is it today? I ask Mom a thousand times. Is it today? Is it tomorrow?

Just as Im thinking about Mom, she comes into the kitchen. Shes quite short, like me, and she has pale soft hair and a pale soft face, with light brown eyes. Shes wearing jeans and a blue shirt and a big fleece. She starts talking but I cant hear her because music is playing in my ears. She makes the sign to me to remove my earphones.

Darby, have you brushed your teeth? she asks. Yes, I say, even though I havent. Brushing teeth is very boring. And it means going up the stairs. Im sitting down now.

Mom runs her hand through her hair, which is all messy. Ive been checking the tunnels, she says, and her forehead creases up like when you fold paper to make a fan.

She means the polytunnels. Polytunnels are made of big metal hoops, with plastic stretched over them. Our farm has three sites. The one we live on has four big greenhouses, and the other two sites (which are about a ten-minute drive away) have polytunnels. All of them are packed with strawberry plants. At this time of year, there are lots of green fruits in them, slowly ripening.

Why? asks Kaydee. It isnt usually Moms job to check the tunnels. Thats what Dad does with Juris, one of our managers. Juris is actually from Latvia, which is one of the Baltic states, which always makes me think of baldness, but Juris has lots of black hair, so hes not in the least bald, not one tiny bit.