Free Casting Shadows by Sophie McKenzie Page A

know.’
    Emmi laughed.
    ‘James and I are definitely going to come for a visit before the holidays finish,’ Grace said. ‘My dad’s got a tent we could use. It’ll be so cool sleeping out of
doors.’
    ‘Awesome,’ I said, though I didn’t really see the attraction of spending the night outdoors myself, not when there was a nice soft mattress in our room.
    Our room.
    Emmi narrowed her eyes as if she’d seen my thoughts. ‘I’m sure it feels great now but once you’re together full time, you won’t ever be able to get away.
There’ll be nowhere to hide out when you’ve got a zit or had an argument or when your period’s making you feel like rubbish.’
    ‘Flynn doesn’t care about those things,’ I said, defiantly. But inside I couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious. Emmi had a point, after all. What was it going to be like
once Flynn was permanently living on the commune?

9
    As it turned out, it was bliss.
    Mostly.
    Certainly, over the summer it was perfect. Once Flynn arrived for the weekend, we spent all our time together. At first Dad insisted he waited until Friday evening before arriving and left
before dinner on Sunday night but pretty soon Flynn was coming up on Friday mornings and, after three or four weeks, he was arriving on Thursday afternoons and not leaving again until Monday
lunchtime.
    We settled easily into a routine: sleeping late, then grabbing some toast for breakfast before starting our chores. Flynn always snuck into my room once Dad and Gemma had gone to bed. They must
have known – as they had to pass the sofa on the way to our shared bathroom – but neither of them ever said anything and Flynn was always back on the sofa before morning.
    On Fridays and Saturdays we had to sweep and clean the downstairs rooms and communal toilets then we went outside, where our jobs varied each week, though often involved the vegetable patch and
the hens. On Sundays we usually joined everyone else tending to the sheep or working in the apple orchard – the organic apples that we would harvest in September were one of the
commune’s main sources of income. On Sunday nights Flynn and I always helped whoever was in charge of that evening’s meal. This meant peeling potatoes if it was the nerdy IT guy,
experimenting with spices if it was Gemma or John and giggling over bizarre recipes if Ros was in charge.
    We only had to work two or three hours each day and, after our chores were done, we were free. The first half of August was blisteringly hot and sometimes we just sat outside in the long grass
near the hen house, reading in the shade all afternoon. I pored over novels – romantic ones, mostly. Nothing heavy. Flynn studied what he needed to for his A levels. Moving to the sixth form
college meant he had to change exam syllabuses and therefore was behind on some of his reading, but Flynn was unfazed about catching up. I’d always known he worked hard but, seeing him that
summer, I realised I’d never met anyone so disciplined.
    Flynn was determined to get into law school and had already looked into the best courses around the country. Whenever he talked about it my stomach tightened into a knot. I couldn’t bear
the thought of him going away – even though it would be over a year from now – and leaving me behind.
    Some days we went out, into the countryside near the commune. We’d wander around woods and fields, hand in hand, talking about stories and music that we liked. We often strolled to the
stream that ran through the woods to paddle in the sparkling, shallow water. It was always cold, yet blissful on our hot, tired feet. We’d make out under the trees, then walk some more,
finally stopping when we got hungry to eat the snacks and sandwiches we’d brought from the commune.
    James and Grace visited a couple of times, camping out in their tent as promised. We hardly saw anyone else. We hardly talked to anyone else. Both of us grew tanned and relaxed, while Flynn was