Hold Back Tomorrow

It was so good to be young, Margy knew. She never wanted to be an adult—grow old and die in five centuries. That must not happen....
Hello, Margy, he said bashfully when he came upon her standing beside the low, white stone wall which surrounded the schoolyard, isolating it from the carefully landscaped forest and lakes beyond.
Hello, Clyde.
How are you today, Margy?
I'm fine, Clyde. How are you?
I'm fine, Margy.... Mind if I sit down here?
Feeling a little flutter of unnamed fear, she cried, Go ahead. I don't own the wall.
Clyde put his hands behind him, found the top of the wall, and drew himself up until he could sit on the stones. He looked down at her, his chin level with her brown curls; he looked as if he had half expected her to turn and walk away, and when she did not, he smiled uncertainly. The fear gone, now, she tilted her head and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes, once again the conscious master of the situation.
Clyde looked very boyish, peering down at her. Don't you want to sit down up here, too? he said, waving his hand awkwardly.
Maybe.
Here, he said, offering her his hand. I'll help you up.
She wanted to take the hand, but instead, she said, Thank you, but I can help myself. Gracefully she swung her lithe body up beside him.