Lucas by Kevin Brooks Read Free Book Online

thing. That’s what he’d meant about the festival. We’d been working on some ideas for a stall at the Summer Festival – in fact, he was coming round to my place next Friday to show me some posters he’d designed. We usually met at my house. Sometimes his mum would come round and pick me up and take me out to the small farm in the middle of the island where they lived, butmore often than not he walked over to my house. That’s why Dominic liked to pretend he was my boyfriend. That’s why … well, anyway, he wasn’t my boyfriend. He was just a nice, quiet, slightly odd-looking boy who happened to be my friend.
    I looked at him now. Shortish, kind of lean, with a long face and dark eyes and a shock of jet black hair that flopped down over his brow, causing him to continually brush it back with his hand. Although he lived on a farm, he had the complexion of someone who never went out in the sun. A pale, almost unhealthy look. This wasn’t helped by the fact that, whatever the weather, he always wore a long black coat, a long-sleeved work shirt, and dusty old corduroy trousers – never shorts. But despite all that – or maybe because of it – there was something intriguing about him … a prettiness, I suppose. But a certain kind of prettiness. The kind of prettiness that most girls reject, and other boys fear. And, of course, what they fear – or don’t understand – they hate. So, all in all, Simon wasn’t the most popular of boys.
    I went over and stood next to him. He smiled nervously and started swinging the roll of paper against his leg.
    â€˜Is that for the posters?’ I asked.
    â€˜Yeah. It’s only rough stuff, it’s the best I could do. I was going to get some proper stuff in town—’
    â€˜That’s where I’m going. I could get some. There’s that art shop down by the library – what do I ask for?’
    â€˜A1 cartridge paper, it’s quite expensive—’ He started digging in his pockets, looking for money.
    â€˜It’s all right,’ I said, ‘I’ll get it. What is it – sheets or a pad?’
    â€˜Well, if you can get about half a dozen sheets …’
    â€˜White?’
    â€˜Yeah, thanks.’
    â€˜That’s OK.’
    He nodded again, then turned his attention back to the pavement. An awkward silence hung in the air. I thought about asking him if he wanted to come in to town with us. I knew he wouldn’t, but I wondered if he’d appreciate me asking. Would I, I thought, if I was him?
    Probably not.
    â€˜Are you going to the regatta next Saturday?’ I asked him.
    â€˜I don’t think so.’
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜I don’t know … it’s not really my kind of thing.’
    â€˜You could come with us if you want. We usually watch it from that little cliff over the bay. It’s quiet there.’
    â€˜Well, maybe.’
    â€˜It’s just me and Dad … and Deefer.’
    â€˜What about your brother?’
    I laughed. ‘I doubt if he’ll be with us.’
    â€˜Well, I don’t know …’
    â€˜Go on, it’ll be fun—’ And then I stopped, realising that I sounded just like Bill when she was trying to persuade me to have a good time.
    â€˜What?’ Simon asked.
    â€˜Nothing, it doesn’t matter.’ I changed the subject. ‘What time are you coming round on Friday?’
    â€˜Uh … about … six o’clock? Is that all right? I could make it earlier if—’
    â€˜No, that’s fine … I got that information about the bird sanctuary, by the way. They sent a pile of stuff – leaflets, badges …’
    â€˜That’s great,’ he said. ‘I thought we could—’
    He stopped in mid-sentence and we both looked up asa bright green hatchback pulled up at the side of the road with the engine revving and bass beats booming from the