Free The Journey by John Marsden Page B

heat, the yearning that suffused her being. As they moved together the weight of his excitement went before him. All that he was feeling was centred in it and had taken him over; it did the exploring for him. He ceased to think; he only floated.
    Afterwards the two of them stayed together, Argus enjoying the most complete relaxation he had ever known, as Temora’s hand stroked up and down his back. It was a sweet contentment. He drifted into a kind of sleep for a few minutes, aware of every movement around him but unable to stir.
    At last they separated and lay side by side on the beach. ‘Oh it’s amazing,’ Argus said.
    Temora giggled. ‘They sent us on this journey so we could become women,’ she mused. ‘Or men, as the case may be. Do you think this is what they meant?’
    Argus sat up and gazed frankly at her as she brushed the sand from her sides and back. The sight was enough to induce new excitement in him.
    â€˜Oh no you don’t,’ said Temora, glancing across. But she watched with pleasure as he again reached his zenith. ‘Do you want some more?’ she asked curiously. When he nodded she knelt up and began stroking him with gentle hands.
    â€˜This’ll do it, won’t it?’ she asked. ‘I remember when we were little kids, playing with our cousins. We used to do this to them and they’d go through the roof.’
    Argus went through the sky and the heavens at her touch, until all too soon he was gasping with the familiar sweet pain. ‘No more, no more,’ he said, pushing her hand away. Temora sat back on her heels.
    â€˜Well,’ she said, ‘girls and boys sure are different. Did that feel good?’
    â€˜Yes thanks,’ Argus said, as though he had been handed a mug of tea.
    By common accord, without either needing to say anything, they both suddenly leapt up and ran for the water again, throwing themselves into the surf with wild splashes. But this time five minutes was enough, before they returned to their clothes to dry themselves.
    â€˜It’s time to go,’ said Argus, pulling on his trousers. ‘We’ll have to step it out.’ He waited for Temora and shyly took her hand as they set off around the headland on their walk back to the fair site.

Chapter Twelve
    â€˜H ere, I’ll help you,’ Argus said, late one night, watching Tiresias trying to carry two saucepans, a chair and a blanket back from the fire to his caravan. He took the chair and followed the dark, silent figure to his home, which was parked, as always, a little away from the tents and other caravans. When they reached the van Tiresias opened the door and put his things inside. He turned and took the chair from Argus, then went back and closed the door in the boy’s face, all without a word. Argus had been trying to get a surreptitious glance inside but was only able to gain a blurred impression of red curtains and an over-clean neatness. He went back to the fire feeling rather disgruntled.
    â€˜He didn’t even thank me,’ he complained to Mayon.
    â€˜Why should he?’ Mayon asked. He was in a provocative mood.
    â€˜Well, he just should. Good manners,’ Argus said. ‘I did him a favour, and he’s supposed to thank me.’
    â€˜Listen, boyo,’ said Mayon. ‘What’s all this “should” and “supposed to” stuff? We’re talking about people here, human beings. “Should” and “meant to” don’t apply. Once you start to formulate codes of behaviour and decide that everyone has to abide by them, and that those who don’t are rude or ignorant or bad, then you’ve lost sight of what people are. Tell me, why did you help Tiresias by offering to carry his chair?’
    â€˜I felt sorry for him,’ Argus said promptly. ‘He was getting in such a mess, and I thought it’d be nice to give him a hand.’
    â€˜All right, now tell me