Free The Predictions by Bianca Zander Page A

me up and down, and now he caught my eye and tilted his eyebrows and chin in a way that was definitely flirtatious but also mocking.
    I scowled at him, as much to stop myself from crying as to show disapproval. “Please come back,” I said to Lukas, in a plaintive and pathetic voice. “You’re ruining it for the others.”
    Lukas wasn’t laughing anymore, but he was still smiling—not taking any of this seriously—and rather than humiliate myself by crying in front of all these boys, I turned on my heel and scurried away. The tears that came were blinding, and I stumbled once or twice before making it to the road.
    I was almost there when, behind me, Lukas called out: “Poppy, wait!”
    I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my T-shirt but didn’t stop.
    Lukas caught up to me and gently grabbed my shoulder. “Don’t bugger off yet. Stick around. I’ll get you a milkshake or something.”
    “So you can make fun of me?” I shook off his hand. “No thanks.”
    “I was just kidding around. You know I didn’t mean anything by it.”
    I burst into tears again. “You don’t get it,” I said, sobbing. “We can’t do it without you.”
    He tried, more gently, to put his hand on my shoulder again, and I let him. “Does it mean that much to you?”
    “Not just to me. To everyone.”
    “I don’t give a shit about the others,” he said, brushing the hair out of my eyes and putting it behind my ear, something I did a hundred times a day but no one else had ever done for me. When he realized what he had done, Lukas quickly withdrew his hand and shoved it in his pocket.
    “Okay,” he said.
    “Okay, what?”
    “I’ll do it.”
    “You will?” The despair lifted so suddenly that without thinking, I threw my arms around him and squeezed.
    He hugged me back, saying, “Steady on,” in such a prim way that I laughed.
    “I can’t believe you ran away,” I said, punching his arm. “You’re such a dork.”
    “ I’m a dork?” he said. “What about you? Crying like a baby in front of all those boys.”
    Normality had been restored, or so I thought, but as we walked back to the main road and stuck out our thumbs to hitch, Shakti’s words echoed in my ear. She was right. I had been able to change Lukas’s mind. But how had she known?
    A ute picked us up at the start of the 309 Road, and we climbed into the backseat, which was narrow with very little legroom. Even so, Lukas managed to shuffle into a position, hard up against the opposite window, where there was nodanger of our arms or legs accidentally touching. He didn’t speak once the whole way back to the commune, not even when the ute almost skidded off the road and into a ravine. Worse than that, he was broody, deep in thought. Going to fetch him had been a mistake. He was mad with me.
    A cheer went around the mess hall when I returned to Gaialands with Lukas in tow, but I couldn’t join in. I was worried that saving the day had come at a price. We ate early, a light supper of dal and brown rice, followed by bottled peaches and thin, sour yogurt for dessert. While we ate, Shakti gave each of us our tasks. Nelly and I were to gather up candles, one for each person, plus a couple of spares. To this we were to add a box of matches and a kerosene lamp, in case it rained or was windy on top of Mount Aroha. Sigi had put together what looked like a first aid kit, but when I asked if that was what it was, she said it was more of a just-in-case kit. “Things could get messy, but I don’t think anyone will get hurt,” she said ominously. We had been told not to ask questions, that we should trust in the universe’s plan.
    The base of Mount Aroha lay just beyond the boundary fence of the commune, on Maori land. The lower slopes were covered with wild manuka bushes, home to swarms of honey-making bees. As children we had called it Buzzy Mountain.
    In the twilight, the bush-clad peak was already in silhouette, a blue-black slab, giving away nothing of its difficult