Free The Hawkweed Prophecy by Irena Brignull Page B

would.
    Poppy had taught Ember money too—dollars and coins and how to buy things in a store. They had acted it out—Poppy as shopkeeper, Ember as customer. It took a few attempts before Ember stopped trying to bargain. When finally they had said good-bye, Ember hugged her, and Poppy, so unused to such affection, had stood there like a statue. On the bus home she replayed the moment in her mind, practicing wrapping her arms around Ember and squeezing. It felt too big, too showy, but Poppy kept reimagining the scene until she felt more used to the idea.
    She knew the four boys would follow her as she passed them on the corner. She couldn’t understand it at first. Interest from any guys of any sort was so unusual to her. But she felt their eyes upon her, and it made her squirm and then she sensed why. They were drunk and they wanted a fight. Not knowing how best to react, Poppy kept her head down and kept walking, pretending she hadn’t noticed them.
    â€œHey! Hey, wait up!” one of them called out.
    Poppy kept on walking.
    â€œWe just want to talk to you.”
    She didn’t reply.
    â€œC’mon . . . why don’t you show us what you got under that coat?”
    Poppy clenched her jaw and sped up. She was walking so fast, she was on the brink of running. But she knew she shouldn’t run. That would make it a chase and they would be faster. She crossed the road instead. They followed. She could hear them laughing. Then one of them caught up with her. He reached out and pulled at her arm.
    â€œHey, freak show. We’re talking to you.”
    Poppy turned and saw them. A scrawny mean-looking bunch with cheap chains around their necks and bad tattoos. Suddenly they were around her, encircling her like a pack of flea-bitten wolves.
    â€œYou’ve picked the wrong girl,” Poppy said defiantly.
    â€œYeah? Why’s that?” the leader growled.
    â€œBecause you’ll get hurt. You don’t want that, do you? To be hurt by a girl.”
    The guys snorted and sniggered. One of them spit, his phlegm foaming on the pavement. The sight of it made Poppy’s stomach turn. She wanted to retch but stopped herself. Then the most curious thing happened. The boy who spat clutched his stomach and made a noise like he was going to be sick.
    â€œPete! Gross, man!” The guys beside him stepped away in disgust.
    Poppy seized her chance and went for the gap in the ranks, trying to break free, but one of the guys grabbed her and swung her around.
    â€œWhere you going?” His breath stank of cigarettes and beer. Poppy turned her face away, but he took hold of her chin. “We only just got started.”
    Poppy glared at him, the hatred shooting from her eyes, and he started coughing. His chest convulsing, he let go of her as he struggled for breath. The others stared in horror as smoke began to billow from his mouth and nostrils. Poppy barged past him and started to run. There was a moment’s silence before a crescendo of feet on pavement as they all sped after her.
    Poppy was running faster than she knew she could. She raced across the pavement and swung around the lamp post. She wasoutrunning them. Then one loosely paved stone and she was flying through the air. Her hands came up to shield her face, and the pain shot into her knees and then her shoulder. The guys loomed over her, panting like hounds having caught their prey.
    â€œBack off!”
    Poppy glanced over to where this new voice had come to her rescue and caught a glint of metal, sharp and silver.
    â€œWhat the—” objected her attacker.
    Poppy heard a shove and a thump and saw the two of them—attacker and rescuer—up against the wall.
    â€œYou heard me.” The words were delivered hard like a punch.
    Keeping her eyes low, Poppy saw the cluster of feet start to back away, then cross the road until she could see them no longer.
    The voice was next to her now, arms around her, helping her.