Read If I Could Fly for Free Online

accelerating faster and faster so that my legs won’t keep up. I wasn’t going to stay here – only for one night – but if he’s not Mad Axe Man crazy, is it such a bad idea? Just until I’m stronger? Just until I’ve worked out where I’m going?
    ‘OK, what are the rules?’ I ask, playing for time. Even in the semi-light, I can see him swallow heavily and rock backwards on his trainers, which, I notice, don’t match. Ha! So, there are no real rules, just the ones he’s about to make up.
    ‘Number one,’ he begins. ‘You don’t sit in ma chair without permission and never in the morning when I’m reading the paper.’
    ‘You get the paper?’ I ask warily. There’s only one daily now, published by the Office of Media and Communications, and photos of missing kids are always run in a banner across the centre pages with a reward offered for information.
    ‘With ma chips,’ he replies. ‘I like the crosswords. But don’t interrupt, do you hear, Miss Saigon?’
    ‘I’m Calypso,’ I state. I’ve had it with nicknames, especially ones that aren’t even geographically correct. ‘That’s what you should call me. And what should I call you?’ I demand, keeping my voice low and even, like Little Bird when she is soothing my dad’s ‘niggle niggle’ – the temper he comes home with after visiting the social club and discussing ‘the state of things’ with the crowd there.
    ‘My name’s Dair. Dair McFarlane,’ he replies, giving me a little salute as an afterthought.
    ‘Cool,’ I say, which sounds a bit ridiculous in the circumstances. Neither of us moves. There is an awkward silence. ‘So, rule number two?’ I prompt. Dair looks confused for a moment, as if telling me his name has let the cat out of the bag.
    ‘Ay, rule number two,’ he nods. ‘I live in Willows Ward next door, but ma chair needs space around it, so you can have that half of Wonderland Ward,’ he tells me, waving a finger at the space at the end of the room.
    ‘Why can’t you just move the chair next door?’ I ask logically.
    ‘Look, Little Miss Clever Chopsticks – the chair stays exactly where it is. You don’t touch it, you don’t move it, you don’t put your person in it, you don’t take any kind of liberty with it at all, ever. Do you understand me?’ His voice is harsh suddenly and he’s pacing up and down in front of me, like an army major reprimanding his troops.
    I nod, observing him, recalculating my escape plan, in case things go bad in the next few moments. I’m notfully focused, though. There’s a distraction. That sweet, surprising aroma again. My brain won’t connect with the clues my nose is giving it.
    ‘Rule three,’ he continues, speaking faster than before. ‘Everything is to be neat and tidy at all times. Including the bathroom. No clothes left draped or dripping. No food containers or remains – or the rats will be your bedfellows and feed on your eyeballs. Above all, no hair on the floor or in the plughole of the sink.’ I can see his shoulders shudder. ‘There will be regular inspections and anyone, that means you, breaking these rules will be disciplined by the judge, that means me, and punished.’
    That’s it. Crazy or not, he’s got it coming.
    ‘You’re not in charge of me,’ I point out boldly. ‘You can’t order me about, just because I’m a kid. We don’t need to have anything to do with each other. We don’t even have to speak. This isn’t your pad. It’s a derelict hospital. You’ve broken in, just like me. We’re the same: outlaws. There are three floors and abouta dozen rooms to choose from. I don’t even need to be in the same place as your precious chair. I’m going to sleep downstairs, as far away from you as possible. Tomorrow I’ll probably be gone, because this isn’t what I planned. It’s not what I came here for. I wanted nurses, the kind doctor and some painkillers. I’ve got to get better, so I can remember. I have to, do you get me?