Black's Creek Read Online Free Page A

holding his bloody thumb outwards.
    I held my breath, and then cut along my thumb, brave-facing the instant jolt of pain. A bubble of blood appeared.
    â€˜Now you, Horseshoe,’ Brent commanded, handing the bloodstained knife to Horseshoe.
    Horseshoe swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in the dim light. It looked like a robin’s egg.
    â€˜Can’t I … just swear something, instead?’ Horseshoe asked.
    â€˜No, you can’t! It’s like the three musketeers. All for one, and one for all.’ Brent’s face was becoming harsh. ‘Stop being such a sissy. Just fucking cut.’
    Reluctantly, Horseshoe took the knife, his hand shaking terribly. Breathing deeply, he pierced the skin on his thumb. He swooned slightly. ‘
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh
.’
    â€˜Now, thumbs together,’ Brent urged.
    We complied.
    â€˜Let the oath of blood-brothers and secrecy live with us forever,’ Brent continued, forcing the three thumbs tightly against each other, allowing our blood to mingle like spilt inkon a page. ‘Let any traitor burn in hell, forever and ever.’
    For the longest ten seconds of my life, I waited to take my thumb away. It felt on fire.
    â€˜See?’ Brent said to Horseshoe, finally breaking the bloody link. ‘Wasn’t so bad, was it?’
    Horseshoe didn’t answer. His pale face looked damp, glistening in the dancing firelight.
    For the longest time, no one uttered a single word. The night seemed to grow denser, and the intense silence began closing in on me. It felt claustrophobic, like a funeral shroud.
    â€˜Are we finished?’ I finally asked, feeling bone weary. ‘I’ve got to head home. I’m still under night curfew.’
    â€˜Finished, and just beginning, blood-brother.’ Brent grinned. His face looked strange. ‘Call over to my house, tomorrow. I’ll come up with a plan.’
    I left my two friends there, with the dying embers for company, and the soft slapping sound of Jackson’s Lake spilling over the embankment behind them. There would be no plan, of course. It was just Brent, living out his fantasy, playing the leading man in one of his mind-movies.
    As I made my way home in the darkness, I felt eyes on my back. I hoped it was Brent or Horseshoe, but something made me think of Joey Maxwell’s accusing gaze. I swore I heard his voice calling out.
    Why didn’t you save me, Tommy?
    I ran as fast as I could, never stopping until I reached home.

Chapter Three
Sweet Lemonade and Thoughts of Murder
    I know that’s a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.
    William Congreve, Love for Love
    E arly the next day, I went around to the back of Horseshoe’s house, and threw a couple of tiny stones up at his bedroom window.
    The stones reached their target and the window opened in a flash, followed by Horseshoe’s annoyed-looking face.
    â€˜Tommy, what the hell’s wrong with you? You almost smashed the glass. You gonna pay for it, if it gets broken?’
    â€˜Stop moaning and get your butt out the window,’ I said, grinning.
    His head quickly popped back inside, and a couple of minutes later Horseshoe started climbing out the window,legs first. Balancing himself carefully, he reached out for the extended tree branch, directly across from his window. Not for Horseshoe the conventional way of the front door. Everything had to be dramatic. Crawling precariously along the branch to his treehouse door, he disappeared inside.
    â€˜C’mon, Horseshoe!’ I shouted. ‘Hurry the hell up!’
    â€˜Okay, okay! Give me a second.’
    The rope ladder came flying out of the treehouse, followed by Horseshoe.
    Horseshoe was the only kid in the neighborhood with a treehouse. I would’ve given anything to have one, just to get away from Mom and Dad every now and again. Even the scrawny tree at the back of our yard would have sufficed, giving me somewhere to sneak out