Read Online Imaginary Foe by Shannon Leahy - Free Book Online

doubtful look. ‘Come on, I’ll push you.’
    She puts down her bag and reluctantly seats herself on the swing, ensuring that her skirt is tucked securely beneath her. I grab the swing, gently pull it back and then release it. Soon Rhonda is swinging by herself.
    ‘This is fun. You get on the other one,’ she says, smiling.
    I jump on the other swing and vigorously work my legs until I’m swinging at the same height as Rhonda.
    ‘Let’s go higher,’ she says.
    We both swing as high as we can, while laughing giddily. The swings start jumping out of control, so we slow down. I leap off and do a commando roll on the ground. ‘Now it’s your turn.’
    ‘I can’t do that!’
    ‘Sure you can!’
    Rhonda slows her swing right down and manages a small leap, landing squarely on her feet. ‘Ta da!’
    ‘Hooray, hooray!’ I rush over and pick her up, spinning her around. I boldly kiss her; it turns into a fervent tongue-seeking-tongue kiss.
    She pushes me back. ‘Wait. I want to show you something.’
    She takes me by the hand. I can hear my heart pounding as we walk along. She leads me to a fence, which has a hole in it. We climb through – my shirt gets snagged, but I pull it free. We then navigate our way through a section of coarse bush. The bush thins and we step out into a clearing. I’m surprised to find that we’re standing in the local cemetery. I’m a bit disorientated – I’ve only ever come through the main entrance.
    ‘I love this place,’ Rhonda says, visibly moved. She catches my eye. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I’m not some crazy kook. I just adore cemeteries.’ She takes me by the hand again and weaves me through the gravestones, pausing every now and then, sighing. ‘There’s so much history here. This person died at the age of thirty-two. Isn’t that sad?’
    ‘Yes, it is.’
    ‘They probably had a family. Maybe they were in love. I mean, doesn’t it make you stop and think about now , and how precious now is?’
    I can see what she’s getting at. It does make you stop and think. We’re lucky to be alive and sharing this moment.
    Rhonda leads me to a small shelter in the middle of the cemetery. It’s not unlike a bus stop. It is painted brown and has a white, decorative spandrel. Rhonda sits me down on the bench. I realise that it’s an old church pew. We start kissing again.
    She draws away for a moment and places a hand on my chest. She says to me very seriously, ‘I love the smell of your sweat. It’s very distinctive.’
    Abruptly, we start kissing again. I put a hand on the outside of her shirt and play with her breast.
    Suddenly, we hear a twig snap. We gasp and look up. An elderly man is standing beside a wheel barrow, about ten meters away. He is leering at us. His hand is down the front of his pants. While we stare at him, taking in what is happening, he advances, his hand still down his pants. We scream and run away. We clamber through the hole in the fence; it’s a bit more difficult this time round, now that we’re running for our lives. It’s like we’re caught up in a scene from a horror movie, where a deranged killer is chasing the main characters. They’re at their front door, fumbling about helplessly for their keys. But you know that they’ll make it inside at the last possible second, even though the last possible second has being stretched out for an inordinate amount of time. We continue running until we reach the park and then we stop and catch our breath, doubled over with our hands on our knees.
    ‘Did you see the look on his face?’ I gasp.
    ‘Yeah! What a dirty old man! I’m gonna have nightmares about him.’
    ‘Let’s get the hell out of here.’ I put an arm around Rhonda’s shoulder and we walk home in silence, feeling like the king and queen of our own secret land.

8
    It’s Saturday morning. The school week that just ended flew by like it was in a hurry. Rhonda and I now meet up every day after school; we go to the cemetery and make out