Lily and the Lost Boy Read Online Free PDF Page A

rice scattered amid the sloping meadows.
    The last village house stood by the crossroads. It was both a farm and a café. The Coreys had stopped there for cold lemonade on their way home from the beach. It was served to them by the young farmwife at one of three rickety tables in a yard beneath plane trees. Chickens scratched around their feet, and once a black goat no bigger than a puppy had leaped on their table and butted them with its hard little curly head.
    Lily and Paul took the road to the beach and halted after a hundred yards. Against the hill stood an arch overgrown with vines. Columns glimmered among chestnut trees. It was a windless night, and the braying of a donkey seemed very close. Paul poked her in the ribs.
    â€œSnakes come out at night,” he whispered.
    â€œDon’t scare me,” she begged.
    â€œSo you came,” said a voice loudly from behind the arch. And Jack stepped out and jumped to the road. Lily gasped.
    â€œOf course we did,” said Paul.
    â€œSince we saw you this afternoon, did you go all the way back to Panagia?” Lily asked.
    He didn’t answer her. “You didn’t mention that you were bringing her along,” he said to Paul.
    When Paul said nothing, Lily spoke up with more confidence than she felt. “I go where I want to go,” she said.
    Jack glanced at a luminous wristwatch on his arm.
    â€œIn two minutes we can see the satellite passing,” he said. “You have to have very good eyesight.” He looked at Paul. “You know about it, don’t you?” Paul shook his head. “It goes by this time every night.”
    Paul said, “You could have had supper at our house.”
    â€œI didn’t need to,” replied Jack. “I bought cheese and bread in the village and went back to the acropolis. I’m looking for old coins.”
    â€œDoesn’t your father worry?” Lily asked. Without bothering to look at her, Jack said scornfully, “Why should he? Look! There it is!”
    Lily and Paul looked straight up. A pinpoint of light—like the tiny light the eye doctor flashes in your eye—moved steadily across the sky and then was lost to view among the stars.
    â€œThat’s it,” said Jack. He was poised at the edge of the road in a ray of moonlight. There was something about his face that reminded Lily of the statue of the youth in the museum garden. Perhaps it was the faint smile on his lips that didn’t change the expression around his deep-set eyes. His brows were dark and nearly met above his nose. He was much taller than Paul. A lock of his dark hair fell over his forehead. He pushed it back with his bandaged hand. Lily saw that the bandage was nothing but an old rag, a piece of soiled undershirt.
    â€œHow old are you?” she asked.
    Paul pinched her elbow.
    â€œNinety-three,” said Jack.
    â€œI know a nice friend for you,” Lily said. “She’s a hundred and three.” Paul snickered.
    â€œI’m going to the beach,” Jack said coldly. “I want to look inside that shack where the old woman cooks.” He set off without a backward look.
    â€œWhy?” asked Lily. Paul, ignoring her question, followed him.
    The shack was one of Lily’s favorite places to have a meal. You didn’t get much choice—fish or eggs and fried potatoes—but the potatoes were delicious and crisp, and the woman emptied them on your plate from a wire basket she had just lifted out of bubbling oil. A young fisherman brought her fish right out of the sea. When the Coreys sat there under the shade of an arbor with a grapevine climbing around it and they were salt-covered and damp-haired from the water, it always seemed a feast.
    â€œI know what her kitchen looks like,” Lily said. Jack was walking quickly, and Paul left her behind to catch up with him. Should she turn around and go home? She didn’t. After crossing a low ridge of sand, the sea