Free The Journey by John Marsden

word for him to cross that line that you’ve drawn, and that word was “No”. In fact, when you think about it, “No” is probably the word that’s most likely to send people from love to hate.’
    â€˜But “Yes” doesn’t necessarily send them the other way,’ Argus added. ‘It must be hard being a parent, because you’re always saying “No” to your kids, and sometimes they hate you for it. But you might be saying “No” for their own good, like if they want to go swimming in a spot that’s dangerous,’ he concluded, blushing a little as he nominated that as an example.
    â€˜Trouble is, they say “No” automatically,’ Temora complained, ‘without even thinking about it. That’s what annoys me. Come on, we better get back. The fair opens at six and I want some tea first.’

Chapter Eleven
    T he next couple of days were busy, with some major jobs, including the re-roofing of a caravan and the construction of a new booth for the twins; their old one had been damaged in the altercation back at Ifeka. Argus added an extra touch to the booth: a lever system that would cause a flag to unfurl over the twins if they were in trouble and wanted to summon help. ‘Thanks Argus, you’re a sweet boy,’ Parara said, but Lavolta merely commented, ‘It’s too complicated’.
    Argus hardly noticed the crowds of people who filled the fairground these days — the crowds that had once contained him as an anonymous element. But he occasionally took the time to look at different faces, or to note the various vignettes that were being enacted at every moment: the child wheedling favours from a grandparent; the boy talking too loudly, to impress his friends; the tiny children who had not yet learnt to dissemble and whose faces showed every emotion; the farmer whose hands and face shone with the special scrubbing that only a trip ‘to town’ could induce; the warm hugs between people who knew each other well but who could meet only infrequently. Argus knew that these were universal scenes, recognisable anywhere, irrespective of time or place. He came to understand a little better what the book had meant when it spoke of stories that would be simultaneously one person’s and all people’s. There were moments when the boy, looking into the faces in the crowds as they passed him, could see beauty in each one — beauty so sharp and perfect it took his breath away. At such moments he knew he was in love with every person in the crowd, every person in the world, all humanity.
    There was one person he was particularly attracted to, however, and that was Temora. He admired her intelligence and lively sense of humour, the friendliness she showed to everyone. And he felt inspired by the smooth lines of her body, and her clear fresh face. He tried writing poems about her when he was in bed at night, but gave up when his first efforts came out as either maudlin or clumsy. He started to find opportunities for them to be together, and indeed, his whole day began to be planned around her. For her part, she frequently sought him out or waited for him or came and sat next to him. The result was that they were together a good deal, even though they got teased for it.
    On their last full day in Finauer they both had a free morning, and Temora seized the chance to extend the invitation she had nearly extended once before. She came into Mayon’s caravan at about seven in the morning and woke Argus by pulling him out of bed by the feet.
    â€˜Go away!’ cried Mayon crossly from his bed.
    â€˜What do you want?’ asked Argus just as crossly, struggling to keep himself covered with the sheet he had nearly lost in the mêlée.
    â€˜Come to the coast with me,’ said Temora, unperturbed by the chaos she had caused. ‘We’ve got ages. We could do it easily. It’s perfect weather for a