Free Infinite Sky by Cj Flood Page B

on a big hill staring out. Her brown curly hair blew in the wind.
    ‘I’ll never paint over it,’ I said, when Sam was putting his pens away.
    ‘You better bloody not,’ he said, and he looked so happy I wanted to hug him.
    Dad and Austin went back out to unload the pick-up, and I heard myself say something I hadn’t been meaning to.
    ‘I won’t speak to her if you want,’ I said. I spoke really quietly, and Sam looked surprised, and for a horrible second I was worried that I’d wrecked everything, but
then he shook his head.
    ‘Don’t be stupid, Eye,’ he said, in a gruff way that reminded me of Dad, and he zipped up his pencil case.

Twelve

    By the time Wednesday arrived, when Trick had promised to do his best to sneak out, I was all mixed up. I went to the cornfield early because I couldn’t wait to see him.
I needed to know I was right to trust him.
    Midsummer night was long gone, and the days were getting shorter, but it was still light at eight o’clock. I’d never met Trick at night-time before. Clouds high in the sky towards
Ashbourne Hall were turning pink at the edges like Chinese pork, and I was hungry. Maybe we could bake some corn later. If everything was all right.
    I trudged across the stepping stones, climbed through the barbed wire, and passed the ancient oak. Butterflies thrashed about in my ribcage as I walked through the green corridor. Maybe Trick
would be early too. Maybe he was there right now, lying down the way he had when we first met.
    But the corn den was empty.
    The cushions I’d brought out for us to sit on were where we’d left them, home to a few snails by now. Their shells tapped against the dry ground as I shook them off. Woodlice skulked
out from the dark, dead patches underneath. I sat down and waited. The sun sank lower.
    I climbed the oak tree, identified insects and looked for dormice. I tried to remember how to make a corn dolly, and couldn’t, and still Trick didn’t come. I walked to the brook to
see if I could spot a pike, but there were only the usual chubs and minnows, and a perch that I almost missed, hiding in the reeds.
    It passed ten o’clock. Trick had said if it got this late he couldn’t make it. I felt hopeless. He wasn’t coming. Maybe he’d never meant to come. Why had I been so sure
he wouldn’t steal from us? I didn’t know him at all.
    I remembered his eyes, the black melty bit where his right iris drifted, and the way his hair fell across his face when he was listening to me. I
did
know him. It must be his dad.
He’d found out he was hanging around with a country girl and grounded him. Or maybe he’d forgotten about me. Or realised I was an idiot.
    Our harvest was shrivelling in the corner after days and days of sunshine. I picked a cob up and lobbed it at the oak tree. It was good that Trick hadn’t come. I was stupid to think we
could be friends. He wouldn’t want to if he knew what I thought of his dad, what my family thought about
him
. That sometimes I wasn’t sure myself.
    The cobs at the bottom of the pile were damp and turning black, and blind grey flies crawled over them. I aimed them at the tree’s middle where the trunk split into branches, until there
were none left, and then I lay down. Corn stalks dug into my back and aphids landed on my arms, making me itch. The light left the sky and my arm hairs stood up.
    I didn’t want to go home. I would stay out here on my own until it was dark and I caught cold, and then I would go to bed for a week and eat nothing but tomato soup until someone noticed
and made Mum come back and Dad cheer up, and things go back to normal.
    And then the corn rustled, and my heart was light again as if I’d never felt bad at all. Trick stepped into the corn den, and he sounded as happy as I felt.
    ‘Iris!’ he cheered, and I stood up. I couldn’t help it, I laughed.
    He opened his arms out for a hug, and I stepped into it as though pressing the whole length of my body against his was