Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 302(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Another witch came towards him, blocking that route—were they triangulating him? His only option was next door, number eleven with the open backyard.
Along the side of the house he went, only to emerge into a beautifully manicured garden where the third witch was greeting neighbours on the back deck.
She saw him, waved, and loudly asked her ‘hubby’ to help her bring out the electric keyboard.
Trapped.
Of course, he could confess to his crime, but . . . the entire neighbourhood would be laughing at Sage behind her back if he did.
They’d be laughing behind his back too.
He couldn’t face it.
He started up the side of the house again and reversed upon glimpsing familiar green fabric rounding from the front yard. He jogged deeper into the garden, looking for a tree to hide behind, or—
Sage’s place was next door.
He tucked the napkin-wrapped apple shortcake into his breast pocket.
At a distant cackling laugh, Carl rushed the fence, threw himself over it, and landed in . . . outstretched, charcoal grey arms.
It is such an uncomfortable feeling to know one is a fool.
L. Frank Baum
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz
Chapter Four
Carl was one rampant heartbeat. He’d vaulted the fence in a hurry, but he’d expected to land on leafy uneven ground. Not to roll his foot on an apple and topple into Grayson, who dropped a bushel of Braeburns to catch him.
Arms came tightly around his waist, fingers pressing in. A burst of breath scuttled over his left ear. One finger dug in close to his spine. There they teetered, on the cusp of a horizontal stumble—and Grayson shifted his feet, stabilising them. Thank God. The proximity, though . . . Chests and thighs jammed together, peculiarly warm against the cooler breeze around them, and their noses met with startling electrical currents.
Carl’s eyes widened in shock and horror, and Grayson’s sparked with a lift of an eyebrow.
“Not into me, eh?”
Oh my God. His life was seriously unbelievable.
He shoved out of Grayson’s arms with a scowl, only to drop his gaze to Jason’s jacket and come right back to peel it off him—
“You guys okay?” came a baffled voice beside them and Carl froze, hands half in Grayson’s shirt.
This . . . might not look totally PG.
Carl freed his hands, pretending to dust the lapels instead.
He felt the rumble of Grayson’s quiet laughter under his palms, and smartly turned to wide-eyed Leo. “Ah, I brought you something.” He took out the slightly squashed apple shortcake and handed it over.
“Thanks?”
“No problem.”
Leo blinked from him to Grayson to the fence and back to him. “You sure about that?”
Well . . .
From over the fence came the call of ‘his’ name. “Jason? Jason? Where did he go? The piano’s waiting for him.”
Carl shrank into a ball at Grayson’s feet and started crawling towards Sage’s house, curling a finger to Leo, whispering, “Where’s that hiding place you mentioned?”
Grayson side-stepped in front and crouched to Carl’s level with an expression of utter bewilderment and suspicion. Yet, the hand that met Carl’s shoulder and steered him to sit back on his haunches was gentle, careful. A glimpse behind a tinny façade?
Grayson’s tight-lipped inquisitive grimace brought Carl back from the stray thought. He smiled wanly. “Met my daily limit of social interaction. I’ll just . . .” He started to crawl around Grayson and was stopped by gentle hands again, this time cupping his elbow and drawing him to his feet.
“Instead of hiding,” Grayson said, keeping his voice low, “let’s leave. I’ve got something for you.”
“You can give the jacket back right here.”
“I’ve got something else for you.”
Something else? Like what, a few words of warning? An outright rejection of all Carl’s supposed advances?
Carl wasn’t exactly thrilled at this prospect either, but—
“Find him, find him. It’d be so great if he could play Devil’s Trill.”
Carl held out his hands in surrender. “Take me far away from here.”
He called out “See ya” to Leo, who was watching them curiously while nibbling on his shortcake, and then suddenly Carl was in the thick of the Street Greet. Neighbours crowded them, and Carl instinctively clutched Grayson’s elbow as they pushed through the fray of eyelash flutters and constant questions.
“Are you not travelling to Europe to perform?”
Carl threw out the truth for once that evening. “Taking a few weeks holiday.”
“Oh, excellent! Could you give a speech at the school assembly?”
“Oh, yes, please do! Always looking for inspirational speakers.”
“I’ll have to check my calendar.” Carl knew now, it’d be very full of make-believe appointments. What could he talk about? He wasn’t actually a musician. He’d get up, speak nonsense, and . . .
A whole assembly would applaud him.
Carl bit his lip. No. No way. Bad idea. Had this experience taught him nothing?
Grayson towed him through the Street Greet until they were rounding the corner towards the shops and freedom.