Read Online World Walker 1: The World Walker by Ian W. Sainsbury - Free Book Online
Authors: Ian W. Sainsbury
Tags: Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Genetic engineering, Superhero, Superheroes, Metaphysical & Visionary, first contact
Ads: Link
obviously had the same ability, since through his tears Seb had watched him looking around, seeing what effect his performance was having, playing the crowd like a pro.
Seb felt disgust. Mostly with himself. He had chosen to hang around with Jack Carnavon, had told himself he was a fascinating guy, with some experience of real life. But really, he had known from the start that Jack was something else entirely. He'd felt coldness and emptiness radiating from him. For someone so talkative, who had so many stories, so much to say, he never revealed anything personal. Not really. Seb felt sure no one would ever get to know the real Jack Carnavon. And now, seeing a glimpse of the heart of the boy, he was convinced it was time to walk away.
He stood up and went to leave. The boys surrounding Jack were starting to joke around a bit again, diffusing the tension. Jack was joining in, but still feigning weakness and regret, puffing up the other boys' egos so they felt needed by him. But those cold, quick eyes followed Seb as he left the room and he knew his desertion wouldn't be forgotten or forgiven.
The trouble - when it came - was worse than Seb had anticipated. He had managed to avoid Jack as far as possible for a few days. Not too obviously, but enough that the clique of boys at the top accepted that he had voluntarily left their number. Seb was popular with the others, quiet but loyal and with a self-deprecating sense of humor. And he was always willing to listen, which was a truly rare quality. So when he deliberately isolated himself, spending more time at the piano and listening to music, his decision was respected by everyone. Everyone but Jack.
The boys slept in two dormitories, 8-12 boys to a room. A locker beside their bed held clothes, toiletries and a few personal belongings. One late afternoon in Fall, Seb was lying on his bed, supposedly reading but actually thinking about the girl who'd been doing some voluntary work with the Sisters around the Home the past few weeks. St. Catherine's, a local Catholic girls' school, regularly sent small teams of volunteers to help with odd jobs, gardening, or decorating. New faces around the place were nothing new, and Seb was used to exchanging a nod or a polite "hey" with unfamiliar people during the day. But, nearly three weeks ago, that had all changed.
Melissa Rae was the most beautiful sight Seb had ever seen. He liked to think of himself as a bit of a man of the world at the age of 15. He had talked with girls on four or five occasions without tripping over his words, blushing uncontrollably or completely losing the power of speech. It had taken work to get past those stages, which had previously crippled his efforts at getting close to females at the various social events organized by the children's home.
The Sisters running St. Benet's were considered progressive by many of their peers, allowing reasonably free mixing of the sexes when possible. They justified their position to their more conservative critics by pointing out that any claim to be "good" or "morally upstanding" was suspect if never tested. Easy to be pure if no one had ever offered you a chance to be dirty. That wasn't quite the phrasing they used at the Motherhouse Symposium they attended annually, but that's what they meant. "Would our Lord be our Lord if he hadn't been tempted?" was the provocative - and often unpopular - question they posed to their colleagues.
Seb and the other half-dozen hormone-driven boys and young men currently residing at the Home, naturally cared nothing for any scriptural or theological justification, as long as the outcome was the same: girls were made available. They could be spoken to, smiled at, even flirted with. Seb knew of the Sisters' thoughts about temptation, but secretly wondered if Jesus would have been quite so quick to avoid it if he had met Melissa Rae when he was 15. He felt terrible for wondering, but he wondered just the same.
Lying on his
Seb felt disgust. Mostly with himself. He had chosen to hang around with Jack Carnavon, had told himself he was a fascinating guy, with some experience of real life. But really, he had known from the start that Jack was something else entirely. He'd felt coldness and emptiness radiating from him. For someone so talkative, who had so many stories, so much to say, he never revealed anything personal. Not really. Seb felt sure no one would ever get to know the real Jack Carnavon. And now, seeing a glimpse of the heart of the boy, he was convinced it was time to walk away.
He stood up and went to leave. The boys surrounding Jack were starting to joke around a bit again, diffusing the tension. Jack was joining in, but still feigning weakness and regret, puffing up the other boys' egos so they felt needed by him. But those cold, quick eyes followed Seb as he left the room and he knew his desertion wouldn't be forgotten or forgiven.
The trouble - when it came - was worse than Seb had anticipated. He had managed to avoid Jack as far as possible for a few days. Not too obviously, but enough that the clique of boys at the top accepted that he had voluntarily left their number. Seb was popular with the others, quiet but loyal and with a self-deprecating sense of humor. And he was always willing to listen, which was a truly rare quality. So when he deliberately isolated himself, spending more time at the piano and listening to music, his decision was respected by everyone. Everyone but Jack.
The boys slept in two dormitories, 8-12 boys to a room. A locker beside their bed held clothes, toiletries and a few personal belongings. One late afternoon in Fall, Seb was lying on his bed, supposedly reading but actually thinking about the girl who'd been doing some voluntary work with the Sisters around the Home the past few weeks. St. Catherine's, a local Catholic girls' school, regularly sent small teams of volunteers to help with odd jobs, gardening, or decorating. New faces around the place were nothing new, and Seb was used to exchanging a nod or a polite "hey" with unfamiliar people during the day. But, nearly three weeks ago, that had all changed.
Melissa Rae was the most beautiful sight Seb had ever seen. He liked to think of himself as a bit of a man of the world at the age of 15. He had talked with girls on four or five occasions without tripping over his words, blushing uncontrollably or completely losing the power of speech. It had taken work to get past those stages, which had previously crippled his efforts at getting close to females at the various social events organized by the children's home.
The Sisters running St. Benet's were considered progressive by many of their peers, allowing reasonably free mixing of the sexes when possible. They justified their position to their more conservative critics by pointing out that any claim to be "good" or "morally upstanding" was suspect if never tested. Easy to be pure if no one had ever offered you a chance to be dirty. That wasn't quite the phrasing they used at the Motherhouse Symposium they attended annually, but that's what they meant. "Would our Lord be our Lord if he hadn't been tempted?" was the provocative - and often unpopular - question they posed to their colleagues.
Seb and the other half-dozen hormone-driven boys and young men currently residing at the Home, naturally cared nothing for any scriptural or theological justification, as long as the outcome was the same: girls were made available. They could be spoken to, smiled at, even flirted with. Seb knew of the Sisters' thoughts about temptation, but secretly wondered if Jesus would have been quite so quick to avoid it if he had met Melissa Rae when he was 15. He felt terrible for wondering, but he wondered just the same.
Lying on his
Similar Books
