Free The Icarus Girl by Helen Oyeyemi

further when Jess had begun pestering him to show her the whistling sound again.
    Now that Jess really had something to whistle about, she made a point of utilising the sound as much as she could. She looked at Tilly and back at the bushes, making the whsssssst sound again.
    “You run fast,” she said admiringly.
    Tilly fidgeted, eyed the veranda that Jess had just stepped down from.
    “Yeah,” she said.
    Jess noticed that Tilly had changed her odd outfit from the day before for another one. This time she was wearing what looked like a dim white net curtain that had been bunched and gathered at the arms and neck to make sleeves and a scoop neck. This dress was even longer than before and trailed nearly to the dusty ground.
    Jess decided to look at something else in case Tilly noticed that she was staring and got annoyed. She would be annoyed herself if she’d had to wear something like that and someone stared at her, even if it was a friend.
    “Thanks for the book,” she said finally.
    TillyTilly smiled, shrugged.
    “It’s OK.”
    Jess put her hands into the pockets of her shorts, then looked around, feeling a little bit awkward.
    Tilly appeared to be looking very hard at the floor, her brow creased with thought, as if she was pondering something difficult.
    She lifted her head.
    “Would you like,” she asked, suddenly breathless, “to go to the amusement park?”
    Jess thought for a moment about the time she’d been there with her mum and her mum’s old school friends. With TillyTilly, she was certain, it would be different. But—
    “TillyTilly, it’s Sunday!” she exclaimed. “I don’t think it’ll be open!”
    TillyTilly folded her arms and gave Jess a scornful stare. Jess felt the blood rushing to her cheeks.
    “Was your grandfather’s study open?” Tilly demanded. Jess slowly shook her head, then nodded it, unsure whether Tilly meant before or after Tilly had broken in. “Come on!”
    TillyTilly started to walk, and Jess stood still for a couple of seconds, then, laughing, caught up with her.
    Even before they arrived at the gates of the amusement park, Jess was utterly exhausted, and her brown sandals were caked with dust. The walk from Bodija to central Ibadan, where the amusement park was, was so tiring that Jess started to feel oddly, as if she was walking uphill and, her vision swimming with her weariness, had more than once suggested to TillyTilly that they turn back and sit in the parlour with some minerals.
    “I’d just need to explain who you were and then we could—” she began, but TillyTilly interrupted her.
    “You can’t tell anyone about me, Jessy! Can’t you tell that I’m not supposed to be there?”
    Jessamy felt as if she were finally getting somewhere.
    “So you do live in the Boys’ Quarters?” she pressed.
    TillyTilly just trudged along silently, the back of her dress trailing on the ground. Jess watched the bit of material get steadily dirtier and dirtier.
    Finally, Tilly stopped walking and shot her a sideways glance.
    “I do. Sometimes.”
    She gave a loud sigh, an irritated sigh, (look what you’ve done, Jessy, you’ve made me cross with your questions) and shaking her head slightly, continued walking.
    Jess wanted to ask if she lived there with her parents, but it was clear from the set of her friend’s shoulders that any further questioning would not be welcome. Maybe Tilly was like Sara Crewe and both her parents were dead; that must be why she hid in the Boys’ Quarters and was so adept at stealing candles— maybe it was the only way that she could survive.
    Maybe.
    “TillyTilly, are you angry with me?” Jess cried, hurrying after her friend.
    Tilly shot her an unreadable glance.
    “No.”
    Jess felt uncomfortable, as if she should apologise anyway.
    “I’m sorry,” she offered.
    Tilly trudged on, but the fact that she was now swinging her arms slightly indicated that she was in a better mood.
    “It’s all right, Jessy. I wasn’t mad at