Read The Slightly Bruised Glory of Cedar B. Hartley for Free Online Page B

winked at me.
    Aunt Squeezy elbowed me and whispered, ‘Hey, he’s a good sort, that Kite, isn’t he?’
    I said, ‘He’s okay.’
    She said, when she was my age she was in love with a boy purely for his blue eyes and fragile smile. She said he wore hand-knitted jumpers and long pants, and he hung back in the playground and didn’t play footy. But she could never speak to him because she was too shy, and then he left the school and she never saw him again. Now, she said, I’m all for courage. If you’re scared of something it’s a good sign you need to go towards the thing you’re scared of.
    â€˜I’m not scared of things,’ I said.
    She laughed as if that was a very funny thing to say, but before I could ask why, Oscar made a commotion by knocking over a glass of wine on the carpet while waving his arm around and making some declaration. Ricci yelled for salt and Kite went to the kitchen to get some. When he came back, my mum stood up and said we should raise our glasses and toast Ruben and Kite. She said, ‘To their new beginnings. Best of luck.’ I looked down at the wine stain on the carpet, now covered in a tiny mountain of salt. Everyone clapped and Ruben stood up and made a speech about The Acrobrats, and he especially thanked me. Everyone looked at me, which was the last thing I wanted. Kite didn’t look at me, though – he looked at his dad.
    Ricci came and squeezed me to her chest and said, ‘Chin up, they’ll be back, won’t you, Ruben?’
    Ruben said, ‘’Course we’ll be back,’ and he smiled at my mum and she smiled quickly and then looked at the floor. Kite shot a look in my direction; he simply raised his eyebrows and grinned.
    Oscar said, ‘But only after Paris, after your world tour, after the nights on the river.’
    Everyone laughed at Oscar’s poetry, but I noticed how the mountain of salt was becoming pink at the base. As if it was bleeding. As if it was trying very hard to do what it was meant to do.
    Had it all been done? I wondered, as Oscar’s mum brought out a passionfruit sponge cake. She’s a librarian, and librarians happen to be very good at cooking sponge cakes, as far as I know, because I’ve met two and both cook sponge cakes, so that’s good odds there’s a link. Boy, am I a sleuth. But why was I wasting my time making links between librarians and sponge cakes when I should have been lip-reading the conversation between Kite and Barnaby? I could tell they were really digging in on something and I was sure I heard my name. I tried to watch, but Oscar’s mum was going round the room, pushing the plate of sliced-up cake

    towards everyone, blocking my view. Was she in on it? Was there something going on that I didn’t know about?
    When we left we all gave Kite and Ruben a goodbye hug. There was a queue. It was like Pin the Tail on the Donkey, and it happened so quickly I hardly had time to take it in. When it came to my turn, Ruben took both my hands and told me I was an angel and an inspiration.
    â€˜I want you to carry the torch. This is for you.’ He pressed a book into my hands. The Tumbler’s Manual .
    â€˜Thanks, Ruben.’ I felt quietened by the gift.
    â€˜Come and visit us any time. I really mean that. We see you as one of the family.’ He looked right in my eyes to make sure, and then he gave me a big hug and I hugged him back. Suddenly I felt terribly sad about Ruben leaving. I hadn’t even realised that he meant something to me. He was important. His big, gentle way was something I loved without even knowing it, not until it wasn’t going to be there. Maybe I even wished I was his child and that I could always depend on him, and he could always show me how to do something without trying too hard. I didn’t say a word, though – I was feeling too emotional to speak.
    Kite was leaning into the doorway. His arms