Read Online Darkness Be My Friend by John Marsden - Free Book Online

was, and he was famous for his walking. "Spring-heel Bob" they called him because he had an unusual way of bouncing on his heels. Apparently he used to walk everywhere, even to Wirrawee if he had to. I remember my grandmother saying he'd walked to Stratton once to see his girlfriend. In those days the mail was only delivered as far as the Mackenzies' place, and he walked there twice a week to get the letters.

    My grandfather was too stingy to let him have a horse.
    I was full of ideas for shortcuts for us to get into Wirrawee that night, but Iain wouldn't listen to any of them. He put safety above everything, which was fair enough, of course, but I thought he took it a bit far. Not only did we have to walk, we had to make all these detours to avoid houses and roads. It made Homer's famous walk look like a little after-dinner stroll. It tested my fitness, too. I'd thought I was still pretty fit when they asked me to slow down on our way up to Tailor's Stitch, but I soon realised my stamina wasn't anywhere near the soldiers'. They could have gone for a week at the same pace. No wonder their horses kept coming over and winning the Melbourne Cup. These guys could have won the Melbourne Cup on their own. They didn't need horses.
    It took us all night. We weren't allowed to speak which meant my muscles could talk to me uninterrupted. They sure had plenty to say: nothing but complaints. Whinge, whinge, whinge. I don't blame them, though. They were hurting. I wished I'd done more running, back in New Zealand.
    When we got close to Wirrawee we stopped for a consultation with Iain and Ursula. There would have been time to go into town for a quick look around before dawn, but they felt it wasn't worth the risk. So we scrambled into some scrubby country, not far from the ruins of the Mackenzie house, and holed up for the day.

    This time there was no hope of my wandering away for another walk. Iain was adamant. I could see his point and I didn't make any fuss. I was starting to like my own company more and more, but on this trip I wasn't likely to get much of it. It was a hot day and I was pleased to be able to get my breath back and give my legs a rest. It seemed that since we'd returned we'd been going nonstop: apart from the morning in Hell, my feet had hardly touched ground.
    I had another good long sleep that lasted about as long as the one two days before. Seemed like suddenly I could only sleep in daytime. I wasn't too comfortable when I woke up though! A rock had dug its way into my back and the sun was burning my face.
    I struggled up and made my way over to Lee and the others. They'd started a game of miniature cricket using a pebble as a ball and a twig as a bat. I watched sourly. I was all hot and sticky and sore and uncomfortable, my legs were aching, and I wasn't in the mood for games. But gradually I got sucked in: when the pebble came my way a few times I fielded it. Eventually I took a catch and got to bat. It was quite fun. It made me sad in a way, though. This was the life we should have had. Playing silly games, mucking around, enjoying being kids for as long as we could. That was how we'd spent half our time at school. When Eric Choo broke his leg we'd
turned his crutch into a bat and invented another variety of cricket: when you hit the ball you had to run around the rubbish bin and back to the wicket, using the crutch to travel. From then on when anyone came to school with a broken anything that needed a crutch we'd all cheer and start the game up again.

    That's what I mean. Just silly stuff like that. We had enough years in front of us to be serious and grown-up and respectable. Why rush it?
    But on the other hand we always complained when teachers and other adults treated us as kids. In fact there was nothing that annoyed me more. So it was a frustrating situation. What we needed was a two-sided badge that said "Mature" on one side and "Childish" on the other. Then at any moment we could turn it to whatever