The Kuthun Read Free Page A

eyelids.
    She pokes her tongue at me and takes a moment to think about the idea. ‘Why the hell not.’ She shrugs, as she positions herself on the back. ‘Actually, this is pretty cool. I mean who else would have an old vintage bike like this?’ she says, a hint of arrogance to her tone. ‘Although, your uncle could have done us
both
a favour and bought you a car instead. But hey…whatever, this old girl will do for now.’
    I laugh, trying to get my balance even with her extra weight on the back. She grabs me around the waist and we slowly edge our way down the driveway.
    ‘Bye, Mum!’ Phoebe calls out as we glide on past. Phoebe’s mum is standing on the front porch watching us with amusement.
    Phoebe talks the whole way to school. Without taking a breath she humours me with the events in her life of the last twenty-four hours. From how her little brother Tom tried to wash her cat by flushing him down the toilet, turning it into a rescue mission of which a plunger and tongs were needed to pull him out. To then helping her mum bake choc-coated bananas on a stick for the local community fete, where due to a decorating error “on her mother’s part” they apparently turned out looking like small male appendages. With sore cheeks from laughing we finally reach the school.
    I lock the bike up at the racks and we walk through the gates of Kingston High where the bitumen path leads up to the main building and its central tower entrance bay. Phoebe says it reminds her of a castle where knights defended helpless maidens and where the city was overthrown to an evil warlord. For me, I just love how old the school is. It’s a school built on character and history, and within its walls it holds stories of those who walked here before us.
    While sitting in art I start to tell Phoebe about my morning so far, making sure to leave out the obvious witchy information of which she knows nothing about. This isn’t because I don’t trust her, because I do, it’s about protecting her.
    As we’re chatting away Mr. Tyler enters the classroom and begins his lesson on clay art—a complete waste of time for me as I’m pretty hopeless at art, but Phoebe loves it and she wouldn’t let me lower myself to do music, so art class it was.
    Even though I follow Mr. Tyler’s step by step instruction plan in
profile creation
my so called profile model of myself turns out to look more like
Shrek
. Phoebe’s on the other hand looks amazing. She sucks!
    Before we know it class is over. In fact the whole day passes in a blur. Lunch is almost uneventful, apart from the fact that Phoebe made a point of telling anyone who was within earshot that I got a Schwinn for my birthday. Apparently, as she was subtly yelling this information across the eating area, Milly Fanning, aka Fanny Face—Phoebe’s name for her arch nemesis since elementary school—gave her a wicked look. Phoebe had her crazy eyes on after that and I couldn’t wipe the smile off her face for the rest of the day.
    I can’t help but love that girl.
    School finishes up and we begin the ride home. Our last class was Cooking Skills 101 with Miss Hamlin, which suits us just fine as we made chocolate muffins. This means that our ride home consists of us eating all our hard work, with Phoebe feeding me from the back of the bike.
    As we’re riding along my mind wanders off.
    ‘Hey, are you okay?’ Phoebe asks, sensing my change in energy. She touches my back gently.
    ‘Yeah I’m fine, just thinking that’s all,’ I distractedly reply as I pedal along, the event this morning running through my head on a continuous loop.
    ‘Is it about your mum?’ she asks me as she swivels her head around to look at my face. ‘She would be thinking of you today, I just know it.’
    I try and keep Billie from wobbling. ‘Thanks, Phoebs. I know she would.’
    Phoebe knows Mum passed away three years ago. I told her it was due to her being sick, which was better than telling her the truth. I mean