Emma hearts LA Read Online Free Page A

‘We’re going to walk up to the shop. Michael left us a map.’
    ‘No thanks, I’m going to have a shower and unpack.’
    Mum and Bex head off with their list and I sit and look out at the canal. Directly opposite our house, four little boats are tied up and pointing out into the water. One’s a kayak, and the others are rowing boats. There’s a bird sitting on each one – two huge white birds that might be herons and two smaller brown ones with curved yellow beaks. I can hear the water lapping against the plastic. The birds shift from foot to foot and ruffle their feathers.
    I hear voices and splashing and I go to the gate to look down the canal. Obviously people must use these boats otherwise they wouldn’t be here, but I can’t imagine who. The boat that’s coming towards me looks like one of the rafts we made on an outward-bound course the school forced us on a couple of years ago. It’s like two kayaks held together by planks of wood. Two men in high-vis jackets are standing on each kayak and holding fishing nets. At first I think they are actually fishing, but as they come closer I realise they’re cleaning the canal. And there’s a little motor at the back of the boat.
    Then behind them, on the opposite side of the canal, I see Oscar. I know it’s him immediately, even though he’s got bright red hair – like tomato red – and his hair used to be mousy brown. It’s something about the way he walks – it’s kind of loose and relaxed, but nervous at the same time, as if someone’s following him but he doesn’t want them to know he knows. I think about shouting his name, but it’s so peaceful here that it seems wrong. As I watch him, he bends over and starts walking really slowly, as if he’s tracking something.
    I get up, step into my flip-flops, grab the keys Mum left for me, and pull the door closed. By the time I reach the canal path, Oscar’s gone out of sight, so I hurry along, hoping I’ll still be able to see him round the corner. When I get to the bridge, I spot him. He’s walking slowly, sort of bent double, and he seems to be talking to himself.
    As I cross the bridge, a huge bird lands right in front of me. It’s pure white with bright yellow rubbery-looking feet and a really pointy beak. I stop and stare at it. It stares back at me. But when I take a step to carry on towards Oscar, it flies right for me. I gasp with shock, the bird skirts right over the top of my head and then I’m choking. I think I’ve swallowed – or not quite swallowed, obviously – a fly. I’m gasping for air, coughing and clutching at my throat.
    ‘Emma?’ I hear. I’ve got my eyes closed. ‘What are you doing?’
    I open my eyes and cough violently again. Oscar’s standing at the bottom of the bridge looking up at me. ‘I swallowed a fly,’ I croak.
    ‘Ah,’ he says. ‘You know what you need to do?’
    ‘If you say “swallow a spider” I’ll have to kill you.’
    ‘Oh.’ He looks thoughtful. ‘I can’t help you then.’ He grins and for a second I’m a bit startled – he’s so much better-looking than he used to be. His features always seemed too big for his face, but he’s obviously grown into them because now he’s definitely cute. I wasn’t expecting that.
    ‘What are you doing?’ I ask, gesturing at the bit of the canal where he was doing his weird walking.
    ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘You saw that. I was just seeing the ducks home.’ At least he has the decency to look a bit embarrassed.
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘The ducks!’ He gestures around the corner.
    ‘You’ve lost me,’ I say.
    He sets off walking and I follow him. Just round the corner are two ducks standing on the pavement. They’re looking back at Oscar as if awaiting further instructions.
    ‘They wander away from the pond and then can’t get home,’ he says. ‘They do seem to be particularly stupid ducks.’
    As if to underline this, another big bird flies past, causing the ducks to flutter about six inches off