Free First Light by Samantha Summers

friends.’
     
    ‘Some friends... plural?’
     
    His perpetual frown knitted together even tighter than usual. ‘Yes, as in, there are four of them, plus myself.’
     
    I knew he was cross, but he’d said I could do whatever I wanted, so I chose to ignore his change in mood. ‘Are they all our age?’
     
    ‘You don’t know how old I am.’
     
    ‘You can’t be much older than me,’ I said smugly.
     
    ‘I’m two years older than you.’
     
    ‘Oh!’ My spirits lifted at the snippet of information. ‘Well, I’m eighteen in February so that’s only a year.’
     
    ‘I am twenty in May, but years don’t often mean much.’
     
    ‘Are you saying I’m immature?’
     
    He smirked. He might not have said it, but he definitely meant it. I folded my arms. I knew he was trying to throw me off by making me angry.
     
    ‘So,’ I said breezily, ‘are the others all nineteen too?’
     
    ‘Thereabouts. Except Ace, he’s only fifteen and Nash is nearing twenty-one.’
     
    ‘Well, you don’t sound happy about your friends, don’t you like them or something?’
     
    ‘Or something.’
     
    Okay, now I was getting irritated. ‘I’d like to meet your friends.’
     
    ‘I don't think so.’
     
    ‘Why not?’
     
    ‘My friends are a bit... complicated.’
     
    ‘Fine, I have things to do, so if you don’t mind. Are you able to see yourself out?’
     
    It worked. He seemed to contemplate for a few moments and then he shook his head with a silent laugh. ‘You win, Miss Rose.’
     
    ‘We can go?’
     
    ‘Yes, but don’t hold it against me when you’re bored – you chose this.’
     
    Based on my life of late, it was impossible I’d be bored. ‘Give me five minutes, I’ll meet you downstairs!’
     
    With a one-fingered salute he turned and left back down the roof. I gasped and ran to the window, but he’d already disappeared. Shaking away the image of him leaping from the top of my house, I swiped some dark blue jeans and a cream woollen jumper from my cupboard and brushed out my hair. It fell in long waves past my shoulders, a bit flat, but it would have to do. I pinched my cheeks to bring some colour into my face then grabbing my purse, I dashed downstairs.
     
    Outside, he was leaning against a small sky-blue car; a rusty three-door Fiesta that looked as if it might turn to dust at any moment. He held the passenger door open for me and soon we were driving into town. It was the first time I was doing something I wanted to do, instead of what was expected of me. I felt a bolt of excitement.
     
    We turned off the main road and drove up a long winding gravel driveway that left me lost for words. I forced my gaping mouth shut. I’d assumed they’d live in a caravan, or a small bungalow sleeping two to a room, but I knew this house – everyone did. It sat on the highest point of town, on the cliff-edge overlooking the ocean. Far apart from all other houses, the old Taylor mansion was surrounded by high fences that prevented anyone seeing what went on inside. We never saw the infamous Mr Taylor who owned it. Rumour had it he was an international millionaire who was never in town.
     
    ‘We rent it from him,’ Kal answered hesitantly when I voiced my surprise.
     
    ‘How? Do any of you work?’
     
    ‘Sort of,’ he said, cocking his head to one side as if he found something amusing.
     
    ‘Is it expensive?’
     
    ‘Here we are.’ He pushed at the front door without answering my question, letting it swing open. ‘You ready for this?’
     
    I smiled. It took every ounce of composure I had not to skip on the spot.
     
    Inside, the house was as enormous as it looked on the outside, but eerily empty. In each room we passed, white sheets were draped over furniture and clumps of dust gathered in the corners of the floorboards. It was as if no one had been there for years. Then we reached the kitchen, the only room in the house that was warmly lit and reminiscent of how a home should feel.