Free The Loblolly Boy and the Sorcerer by James Norcliffe

known as Benjy. He’d always been Ben, or — to his grandparents — Benjamin. He hated Benjy. It sounded like some sort of pet. A good name for a cocker spaniel.
    The clothes Mel described sounded completely unfamiliar , too. It was more than possible, though, that the interloper had managed to get new clothes. He’d been living his stolen life quite a few months by now.
    It was unlikely, but it was just possible.
    If Mel was right and this kid was a Sensitive, why would he run away in the instant.
    It could only be because he’d not just seen the loblolly boy, but also knew exactly who the loblolly boy was. One reason he could know was that he’d once been a loblolly boy himself.
    And had Exchanged.
    All these puzzles and possibilities.
    He had to find the boy.
    For the moment though, he seemed to have vanished into thin air.
6
    The path ended at a pair of open wrought iron gates marking the entrance to the park. Beyond was a busy road. Left orright? To be certain the loblolly boy tried both.
    Each proved fruitless, and he returned to a tree near the gate. The difficulty was, there were several shops next to the park, and further down across the busy road a supermarket and a couple of large department stores. Moreover, buses regularly travelled up and down the road. The boy could be in any one of these stores or he could easily have hopped on a bus and headed off in any direction.
    As he sat in the tree considering these disappointments, he saw Mel once more on her skateboard approaching the gates. He dropped from the tree to talk to her again. She, after all, was a link. She knew this boy Benjy and something of him and would be able surely to tell him more.
    As it happened, though, she was not able to give him much more. No, she didn’t really know him that well, only by sight really. He kicked about a bit with some of the kids she sort of knew. No, he didn’t go to her school, in fact she didn’t really know which school he went to. To tell the truth, she’d only seen him at the park with some of the other skateboarding types.
    The only useful piece of information was that she did have a feeling he was new to the place, although this was possibly because she’d only become aware of him in the last few months.
    She didn’t care for him, anyway. Once again she offered her opinion that he was a lowlife sort of a little rat who tended to hang about with other lowlife rats, like Gavin, like Jason.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ she said finally.
    ‘That’s okay,’ said the loblolly boy. ‘He’s probably the wrong guy anyway.’ I hope so, he thought.
    ‘Anyway, I really ought to get going,’ said Mel. ‘Mum’ll … You know …’
    The loblolly boy didn’t know, but from Mel’s anxiety he rather guessed.
    ‘Let me know if you can find out more about this guy!’ he shouted after her.
    She replied only with a frantic wave he understood to be an agreement, and then she was gone.
    Only after she’d disappeared did he realise he had no idea where Mel lived and, foolishly, had not asked for her address.
7
    The loblolly boy flew back to his little platform at the top of the church tower.
    He still did not know whether he could trust the dove. He hoped so. It had been very determined about where it was heading. And as soon as he had arrived his instincts had told him he was in the right place. Only his fears had argued otherwise. What should I put my faith in, he asked himself: fears or gut feeling? Doubts or instinct?
    Why, at that point, did he all at once jump up onto the little balustrade once more and take off into the air? Instinct?
    Nevertheless, that was what he did. He swooped down into the square and landed on the grass. For some time,he wandered about examining the gardens, the occasional public monument and sculpture. Then he wandered across the street to look in the shop windows. A Japanese restaurant with a fish tank full of lazily swimming goldfish with long silken fins and beautifully tessellated scales; a