Back Jelly
Chapters (41)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Chapter 1
  4. Chapter 2
  5. Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 4
  7. Chapter 5
  8. Chapter 6
  9. Chapter 7
  10. Chapter 8
  11. Chapter 9
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. Chapter 25
  28. Chapter 26
  29. Chapter 27
  30. Chapter 28
  31. Chapter 29
  32. Chapter 30
  33. Chapter 31
  34. Chapter 32
  35. Chapter 33
  36. Chapter 34
  37. Chapter 35
  38. Chapter 36
  39. Chapter 37
  40. Chapter 38
  41. Chapter 39

When I get sick of it all I go over to the back tentacles and sit in between the hard jelly ridges on the creature’s muscle ring, looking out to sea. Sitting there means that the cold wind is blasting into your face, and the spray from the waggling tentacles hits you in the eyes. But it’s still better than listening to Old Albert’s Dire Warnings, or James’s favourite diarrhoea stories. Again.

Sometimes the creature’s muscle ring is the most popular place on the Jellyfish, and you arrive to find all of the ridges already taken. That’s normally OK, though, because the people sitting there are going to be the quiet ones. And even if they did try to talk to you, it would come out as, ‘Blugglerlp’ or something, what with all the spray flying into their open mouths.

The front of the Jellyfish – which I suppose might not be the front, given it’s just a giant lump of wobbly flesh – faces towards the coast. We used to see people walking there almost every week. We would wave and shout, and if they weren’t being chased by scuttling kriks – more about those later – they would sometimes wave back. It’s like we were saying, ‘Hullo! We’re trapped on a giant killer jellyfish,’ and they were saying, ‘Gosh, how interesting. Good luck, then!’

In the middle of the Jellyfish is a load of splintered wood. We call it ‘the Big House’, which I think might have been somebody being sarcastic, but the name’s stuck because a lot of the people here don’t understand humour. It’s made from bits of driftwood and rubbish all jammed in together and piled up to create walls. There are rows of plastic bottles, of course, and plastic bags are squeezed into every gap to try and block the wind – but they’re mainly all faded and grey these days. We get super excited whenever we see another bit of brightly coloured rubbish floating towards us, because it means we can redecorate.

True story: Kate and Lana once stopped speaking to each other for a whole week, because Lana told Kate that putting all the blue plastic bags on one wall was, ‘Stupid when they’re not the same shade.’ Even though they’re friends again now, it still feels risky when there’s a blue plastic bag amongst the rubbish. They avoid making eye contact when that happens.