Read Skylight (Arcadium, #2) for Free Online Page B

on the
wooden swing, ropes creaking softly every time Liss kicks off the
floor. They glide back and forth, subdued and quiet.
    I sit
cross-legged in the shade, picking the stray bits of nail polish
off the skin around my nails. Kean leaning on the railing, fifty
pages into a book called The Plague by Albert Camus.
    The trees are
perfectly still and silent today. The white sun heats us from right
above.
    “Did you like
your breakfast?” Liss calls.
    “Loved it,” I
say. “Thank you.”
    She beams.
“I’ll make it again for you tomorrow.”
    Kean glances
over his shoulder as my expression falters, and he just laughs.
    A few minutes
later, Trouble comes out in fresh grey jeans and a mottled grey
V-neck t-shirt. He stretches his arms, rolls his neck, and then
sits in front of me. He gestures for my left hand and I give it up.
This is a ritual Trouble started, right back when we’d found our
house. My hands weren’t great, and became stiff and clawed because
I’d stopped using them so much. At first he just massaged my palm,
to get the blood flow going or something. And eventually moved onto
my fingers and joints, when they could take it. The response was
nothing short of amazing.
    Kean sits
beside us, sets his book on the floor, and takes my right hand.
Trouble has been silently teaching Kean his techniques, and they
work together. As a result, my hands are always improving. And
Trouble reminds me to keep moving them all the time. I don’t know
what my injuries would be like if Trouble wasn’t here to look after
me.
    Today we have
something to do. We’re heading to our favourite park, which is just
a short walk up the hill, in the sealed backyard of a fancy house.
But we don’t often go beyond that boundary, unless we’re searching
for food. And even then we don’t go more than a half hour walk
away. Apart from going to the park, reading, playing board games
and making food, we do nothing. We just exist in out little space,
doing simple things to keep ourselves alive, and nothing more.
There’s not a lot to look forward to. Jacob’s presence kind of
changes things, gives us a bit of uncertainty, but I’m sure it
won’t be long before he’s gone and we’re all alone again. He has a
plan, he knows exactly where he’s going, what his life is going to
mean.
    “What do you
think our next move should be?” I ask Kean.
    “What do you
mean, like after lunch?” he says.
    “No, I mean…” I
look around at everything we have — the space, the fresh air, the
bright sun and the protection of trees. “Are we just going to wait
here for the rest of our lives?”
    Kean pauses.
Now he’s just holding my hand. A small crease forms on his
forehead. “Do we have a choice?” he asks.
    I stare at our
entwined hands. “I don’t know.”
    “What do you
mean? Do you want to move?”
    I grit my teeth
as Trouble kneads my worst knuckle joint.
    “No. I mean,
that’d be no different. We’d still be stuck in this limbo.”
    Kean strokes
the side of my hand with the tip of his finger — so light it’s just
a tickle. “Is this about Jacob? Do you want to go zombie hunting or
something?”
    “No.” I shake
my head. “But I want to mean something, you know? More than
this.”
    Trouble makes
one of my joints ping and I snatch my hand back. “Ow.”
    Trouble holds
up his palms in apology.
    “I don’t know,”
I say. “Maybe we should probably go to the park now.”
     
    We’ve adjusted
our walking formation since being in the Dandenong Ranges, because
we hardly ever see infected wanderers. Trouble walks up front with
Liss and Henry stays between them, so that if Henry needs a hand
getting up the hill Liss and Trouble can give him a push. Trouble’s
cricket bat rests against his shoulder, ready to swing any moment.
He covers the right; Liss keeps an eye on the left side.
    Kean walks
backwards so he can survey the scene behind, and I walk forward,
surveying the scene and making sure Kean doesn’t fall into