Free Infinity Lost by S. Harrison Page B

it sounds like all he does is fight with me and hit me with stuff.
    “Carlo knows that you can do this?” Jonah asks sternly.
    “Ah, yeah, he’s seen me do it a couple times . . .” I say, knowing it’s more like five or six.
    “I think I need to have a little chat with young Carlo,” Jonah says gravely. He turns and walks briskly in the direction of the stables.
    “I made him do it!” I plead at Jonah’s back, chasing after him.
    “Leave your bike and get back to the house, Finn!” Jonah barks over his shoulder.
    “It was only a fracture!” I yell, but he pretends not to hear me. “I can honestly tell the difference! It was two whole summers ago!”
    Carlo Delgado is the fourteen-year-old son of our stable master, Javier Delgado. He’s my best friend and the only other kid I know. Carlo’s dad moved into the little two-bedroom house in the Seven Acre Wood ten years ago, and Carlo has come to stay with his dad every summer vacation since to help him look after the horses. Hanging out with Carlo is the highlight of my year, and I just got him in gigantic trouble. It was me and my big mouth’s fault. I have to warn him.
    Jonah strides off into the distance. He glances over his shoulder and points toward the house. I nod and make it look like I’m doing what I’m told as I head back up the hill, but the second that I’m out of Jonah’s sight line I break into a furious sprint. I veer away from the house and go tearing across the main lawn, bolting toward the quaint rows of hedges surrounding the groundskeeper’s shed. The stables are behind the polo grounds. It’s a good eight-minute walk, twelve if you’re as slow-moving as Jonah. I’m sure that I can make it there in less than three minutes if I take one of the quad bikes in the shed. With any luck, Jonah won’t even see me kidnap Carlo to safety.
    I sprint across the grass and almost make it to the hedges in less than two minutes. The doors of the shed are wide open, which means Graham the groundskeeper is in. He’s a quiet guy who likes to keep to himself. He’s thin and wiry with a thick white beard and glasses that perch on the tip of his crimson-pointed nose. He seems to be much more comfortable around plants than humans, especially a rowdy thirteen-year-old girl like me. I can see him inside as I get closer, standing at the bench, completely absorbed in doing something plant-y with some seedlings. He’s dressed in his usual plaid shirt, green overalls, and black rain boots. He dresses like that year-round, even on summer days like this. I know from past experience that my mere presence always scares the living crap out of him, so, with a little smile on my face, I go barreling through the open door like a force of nature.
    “Hi, Graham!”
    He jumps a foot off the ground. His glasses spring off his nose, flip once in the air, and disappear into an open bag of potting mix. I grab a set of keys off a hook by the door and leap onto the nearest quad.
    I twist the ignition, the engine roars into life, and I full-throttle the quad out of the shed, spraying dirt and dust backward all over Graham.
    “Sorry!” I yell over my shoulder as I swing the handlebars wildly to the left, carving fat curves in the loose gravel outside. I peel out as fast as the bike will take me, speeding across the lawn behind the house and right through one of the yellow rose gardens beside the hand-carved gazebo.
    The wind rushes through my hair as I round the corner past the high fence of the tennis court and down through the green grotto. The growl of the quad bike echoes all around as I weave along the paths that snake through the dense tunnels of trees.
    I burst out into the sunlight again and see the polo grounds coming up quickly. I’m almost to the edge of the field when Carlo appears from behind one of the grandstands, a heavy saddle in his arms.
    “Carlo!” I yell toward him. By the time I’m near enough to see the expression on his face, I can tell that