Cloud Girls by Lisa Harding EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Lisa Harding
- Language: English
- Genre: British & Irish Literary Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
A cooling breeze creeps up my skirt, tickling my thighs, as I climb to the
highest branch of the highest tree in the forest. Puffs of cloud, like God’s
breath, float all around. Some of the other fellows are yellowing and
balding, but this old man holds on to his crown all year round. He smells of
leather and Papa’s pipe. Lying back on his wrinkled bark, blotched with
freckles, I scout the sky for shapes. With a slight squinting and blurring, a
galloping filly appears just beyond my reach. I swing both legs either side
of the branch and ride like the cowboys ride in the films Maria’s dad lets us
watch.
“Would you like a man like that?” he’d say. “A man with bandy legs who
spits on the ground?”
Maria would laugh, and I would think: but what about the gun packed so
close to his thigh?
When we’re alone, Maria says she dreams of those spitting men.
Luca has climbed up behind me and is shaking the branch I’m clinging
to. “Hey, don’t be such a dumbass! I could fall.” He starts to laugh,
sounding as cruel as Sergiu. The dog is running round and round the base,
making strange grunting sounds.
“That stupid animal doesn’t know it’s a mutt,” he says, and throws a
baby-green fairy cap in its direction. He should know better. Mama says if
they are pulled too soon, you can hear their cries on the wind.
Luca hits the dog on its head, and it yelps helplessly, looking towards the
sky. It still hasn’t worked out where we go when we climb up the trunk of
the tree; as far as it can see, we disappear into the clouds. It’s been around
as long as I have, which must make it very old in dog years. “Senile old
nutter,” Sergiu would say, as he’d give it its tenth whack of the day with his
pointed boot. We’ve never given the old hound a name. My brothers all
laugh when I suggest it. “It’s an animal, a creature, an “it,” and that’s that,
silly sis.” Mama reckons the boys were knocked on their heads when they
were little, or jostled about too much when they were growing inside her. I
think it’s because they came out just like Papa, except for Luca, who is
more like Mama and me, although he tries very hard not to be.
“Where is your little friend today, sis?” As if he doesn’t know. He
follows us to the river most days and hides behind a bush where he thinks
we can’t see him.
“Just who are you talking about, donkey?” I’ve arranged to meet Maria
later at the watering hole, at the same time we meet every day during the
summer holidays.
“Do you think she likes me?”
He’s asking for it now. “She doesn’t even know you exist.”
He shakes the branch in a fury so I’m on the edge of falling.
“Stop, you castrated bull!”
He laughs. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you on the way down.” The dog’s
anxious grunting increases. “Stupid yoke,” he says.
Of the three boys, Luca has the bluest eyes, the thickest hair, and the
smoothest skin. Although he’s the youngest, he’s also the tallest, with wide
shoulders, narrow hips, and a taut body. The girls in school giggle when
he’s around and wear high color on their cheeks. Maria’s no different,
although I’d never tell him this. “Come swimming with us today.” The
words are out of my mouth before I can pull them back. Maybe it’s because
I know there are only five more days left before school starts, or maybe it’s
because I want the shaking to stop.
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