Read Online The Second Forever by Colin Thompson - Free Book Online Page B

‘Don’t worry. Everything will work out for the best, and by the next full moon you will be back in time to see the rain return.’
    They crossed the road, walked through the gates and up the steps back into the museum.
    â€˜I think you are right, Peter,’ said the old man in a loud clear voice. ‘The dust is beginning to clear.’
    â€˜I am sure it is, Grandfather,’ said Peter.
    â€˜Well, why don’t we measure it again tomorrow?’ said Festival. ‘We should go to the same place every day until the next full moon and take samples.’
    â€˜I agree,’ said Peter. ‘It will help pass the time for the next two weeks.’

That evening felt like the longest of their lives. The thought of going through the hole in the wall was bad enough, but it was made even worse by the fact that they couldn’t talk about it at all. Peter’s grandfather had returned to his bed, while the children had dinner with Peter’s mother and father.
    â€˜What did you two do today?’ asked Peter’s mother.
    â€˜Oh, this and that,’ said Peter.
    â€˜But we went to the botanic gardens yesterday,’ said Festival. ‘It was really sad to see so many dead plants. I would’ve loved to have seen them all before the drought.’

    â€˜Who knows,’ said Peter’s father. ‘Maybe the weatherwill change. People have been talking about rain.’
    â€˜It’s all they ever do, though, isn’t it?’ said Peter’s mother.
    And so it went on. Neither of Peter’s parents knew about the destruction of the fossil gallery. Peter’s grandfather had papered over the gallery’s glass doors and locked them. The fossils had always been one of the more popular exhibitions of the museum, so the old man had put up a ‘Closed for Refurbishment’ sign to stop people from asking why they couldn’t go inside.
    â€˜I was surprised to see the fossil gallery was getting done up,’ said Peter’s father. ‘I thought that sort of thing had stopped, now that there isn’t even any water to wash the walls, never mind to manufacture paint and varnish.’
    â€˜Well, they must know what they’re doing,’ said Peter as everyone left the dinner table.
    Once they were back in Peter’s room, Festival took a piece of crumpled paper from the waste bin and wrote: I am scared.
    Me too, Peter wrote back.

    They stood in the middle of the room, and without any warning Festival threw her arms around Peter and kissed him on the mouth. Then they stood dead stillfor ages, both too embarrassed to break apart and see each other’s faces. Finally Festival backed away and whispered, ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean . . .’
    Peter reached out and took Festival’s hands in his and they hugged, but this time it was more like brother and sister.
    â€˜If we whisper,’ he whispered in Festival’s ear, ‘do you think it’d be all right?’
    Festival pulled away and wrote: Probably, although I don’t think we should risk it. It’s only a couple of hours and then we’ll be back in my world . . .
    She paused before adding: hopefully.
    Yes , Peter wrote. Then we’ll be able to talk again .
    The children sat side by side on the bed and the minutes crawled by as if they were walking through treacle. Peter picked up his favourite book from beside the bed, a book he had loved and read repeatedly ever since he had learnt how to.
    â€˜I forgot all about this,’ he said. ‘This is how the botanic gardens used to be before it stopped raining.’
    â€˜Oh wow,’ said Festival, turning the pages. ‘I can see why you love it. It looks like the whole world all in one amazing place.’
    She went through the book over and over again, touching the images with her fingertips, picture after picture of trees and plants that she had never seen in her world and had never