Real World

She opens the front door and steps out into the cold late afternoon sun. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Nan,’ she calls over her shoulder. They did their hugging and kissing inside.

She pushes her feet into her dusty black school shoes and watches the landscapers at work on the front garden. She recognised one of them from school when she arrived. He was a year above her, and he dropped out last year. He’s driving a Bobcat, peering over the front, scooping mounds of dirt up to fill the new retaining wall. Their eyes meet and she looks away in the same instant, cheeks flaring.

‘Love you, Sweetie,’ says Nan, ambling to the door in her sheepskin slippers to wave her off.

‘Love you too,’ she says quietly, and swings her schoolbag over her shoulder. She doesn’t want to walk past the men. Should she say hello or goodbye? Should she acknowledge… was his name Tyler?

She keeps her head down as she passes them, but she can’t help it, she glances at Tyler. He’s looking at her, or perhaps just the uniform; he doesn’t smile.

She leaves the paved driveway and walks out of the quiet cul-de-sac of old people and young families. She marches to the bend, then leaves the road at the base of a gentle hill and cuts into the grassy reserve straight ahead. It’s about six acres of grassland, divided by a thick line of old tea trees, overgrown at the base with weeds. It’s bordered by a tall wooden fence, tagged here and there with a scribble of graffiti. On every side there are houses, lined up and divided like racehorses in the stalls, blind to each other.

The fence is interrupted by four narrow, litter-filled walk-throughs, one of which she’s headed towards – the one which leads to farmland; all the others lead to suburbia. Between it and her is a rocky culvert she must pick her way across, but before she begins, she looks back. The bobcat is still moving earth.

~

She sits with Jake, Sam and Tom during lessons. They’re nerds, and not the safest of friends. Jake said she was “so ugly” once; not to her face – Tom told her. What was worse? That Jake said it, or that Tom told her? It had made her feel so rotten that she told the school counsellor about it during one of their sessions. Teenaged boys can have drastic, snap judgments of people’s appearances that have absolutely no bearing on a person’s true appearance whatsoever. Still, she can’t look in a mirror without thinking of it. She sits with them because they keep a spot for her. They like having a girl around, to quell rumours of homosexuality – which are easy to spark in this school.

At lunchtime, she never knows where to go. Jake, Sam and Tom hang around at the front of the school, in the shade of the twisted banksias with the other cricket-obsessed boys. Then there’s Hannah, Louise, Katie and Jess, the girl nerds. They like to sit around and watch the boy nerds and talk about schoolwork. Then there’s Erin and the muso's, who she finds a little arrogant and difficult to navigate.

Then there’s Bonnie’s group: The Popular Kids. She has a place with them, at the back of the oval, if she wants it. Her and Bonnie were best friends throughout primary school – spent every school holidays together. Riding horses, watching horror movies and chick flicks, lip-syncing to their favourite CDs. But something changed between primary school and high school. Bonnie was preparing to establish herself as ‘Most Popular Girl in School’, and she hadn’t included her old best friend in these plans. On their first day at high school, Bonnie had acted like they barely knew one another.

But after years of compliance born from shock and hurt, she’d decided to take a stand. She sat with that group at lunchtime, and didn’t let Bonnie pretend anymore. And she feels as awkward and out of place with them as she does anywhere, so she may as well be with the popular kids.

~

She and Bonnie get off the bus together, as they do every day at this stop. They walk side by side towards the reserve, where they used to ride their horses together. This short walk between the bus stop and Nan’s house, when it’s just the two of them, is usually when Bonnie is most like her old self, but today even her silence is salty. Nose stuck up, she trudges through the long grass, her long skinny legs bare below her skirt, worn high to make it shorter. ‘Do you have a crush on Drew?’ she asks suddenly.

‘No. Why?’ It’s not quite a lie, she’d been entertaining the idea of a crush on him all week. But what’s she done that’s caught Bonnie’s attention?

‘You just look at him a lot, that’s all.’

She feels her chest burn under her jumper.

‘I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you did, he’s pretty cute. He’s too short for me. We’ve kissed a few times though.’

Bonnie’s kissed everyone a few times. Never got a boyfriend though, despite supposedly, all the boys liking her. Kissing is Bonnie’s way of marking her territory – and Drew is the latest post.

She’s counting the steps until she can turn off to Nan’s house.

‘Do you see us as “The Popular Kids”?’ Bonnie asks.

She feels like she’s been punched in the stomach. If she didn’t already feel like an intruder, now it’s “you” and “us”.

‘No,’ she says, her skin blazing beneath her uniform; her armpits sting, wet and cold. Is this conversation really happening? Could Bonnie be so cold? So brazen? Her lungs feel squeezed, bruised.

‘Really?’ Bonnie says quizzically. ‘Because we see you and you and your little friends as “The Losers”.’

~

She opens the front door and steps outside. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Nan.’ The landscapers are still here. Tyler, that is his name – Tyler Ashford. He’s packing up, throwing rakes and shovels into the back of a ute. He’s tall, tanned and athletic, just like she remembers. She always noticed him, whenever he went past at lunch, or when they were all gathered together at assembly and sports days. He was always smiling, always laughing and having fun with his friends. He was popular, and Bonnie had a crush on him – everyone knew that, but he’d never paid her any attention.

They glance at each other, a split second of awkward, uncomfortable acknowledgment and she looks away, cheeks hot. She begins her walk, chest flushed under the maroon of her jumper. Why him? Why here, at her Nan’s house?

It’s approaching dusk; the grey clouds are turning yellow and the air is cold. She doesn’t look back today – she knows he won’t be looking.

She wants to cry. All she can think of is Bonnie’s assessment of her. She’s tired of this. A smile is too heavy – trying to be Nan’s light when all she can feel is darkness is exhausting. She wants to disappear. Or punch something. The shower is good for that, she can cry as hard as she needs to and the water takes all her tears, and no one can hear the banging of her knuckles on the stone tiles. Sometimes it feels like too much – in these moments on her own, when no one is around to distract her from the hurt. Sometimes she thinks she’d rather end it all than continue this way, continue alone. Hurting, alone.

‘Hey!’ a voice calls, and she turns back into the cold breeze. ‘Wait,’ he says, standing up on the pedals of his bike as he cycles toward her, weaving down a narrow track of flattened grass and cape weeds. ‘It’s Em, right?’ he says, coming to a halt before her, stepping down with one foot to steady himself. His eyes are blue, his hair is dark and stuck up like a cockatoo’s crest at the front. He looks three years older than her, not one.

‘Yeah,’ she says, her pulsing thumping in her throat.

‘I remember you from school. I’m Tyler. I left at the end of last year.’

She nods. ‘I thought I recognised you.’

‘Do you mind if I walk with you? Or, ride while you walk?’ His teeth are white and straight, his skin is clear, mostly. He has a soft smile on his face, warm and open like morning sun.

‘Okay,’ she says, and turns. Is this real?

‘So that’s your Nan’s place we’re working on?’

She nods.

‘You go there every day after school?’

She nods again.

‘That’s nice you spend so much time with her.’

A flicker of embarrassment. ‘She’s on her own. It’s good for her to have some company.’

When they reach the culvert he gets off his bike, lifts it above his head and carries it as he steps onto the angled rocks. She knows which ones wobble and which don’t, and he steps on all the ones that do, laughing every time one tips beneath him. She smiles as she tip-toes across, and turns to watch when she reaches the other side. Halfway, he abandons the bike, dropping it with a clatter, and walks across with his arms outstretched like he’s on a tightrope.

‘What about your bike?’

‘I’ll come back for it.’

‘What if it gets stolen?’

‘It won’t,’ he says, taking to her side.

‘Okay,’ she shrugs, and continues her walk towards home. He follows in silence, hands in his pockets. He’s a good deal taller than her, broad across the shoulders and narrow in the hips – a real swimmer’s body, she thinks. She feels short, dumpy, even though she isn’t – she’s lean and tall than half the girls in school. She tucks her long dark hair behind her ears and crosses her arms, wondering what to say.

‘So, you’re in year eleven now, right?’ he asks.

‘Yep.’

‘Do you like school?’

‘Not at all.’

He smiles. ‘I hated it too. So glad I left. I miss my friends though, don’t see them much now I’m working full time.’

‘I don’t think I’d miss anyone if I left.’

‘Aren’t you friends with Bonnie Brown?’

‘Sort of.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means we were close in primary school but when we got to high school she turned into a massive bitch and now we have this unspoken hatred for each other.’

He nods like he isn’t surprised. ‘She’s got issues that one. She had a crush on me and acted like I wanted her back. Actually, she acted like every guy wanted her. Walked around like she owned the place. We used to call her The Beak.’

‘Why?’

‘Cos of her massive nose,’ he says like it’s obvious.

She laughs. Bonnie does have quite a prominent nose, though it’s never occurred to her that anyone could find Bonnie Brown anything other than attractive. It was oddly satisfying, to realise not everyone liked the girl who worked so hard to be at the top of the popularity list. ‘I’m stuck with her,’ she says. ‘She keeps her horse at my place, so every day after school she comes back to mine and rides, then her parents pick her up when they finish work.’

‘Oh man, you can’t shake her.’

‘Another reason I spend afternoons after school at my nan’s.’

‘Nice move,’ he says, looking at her, smiling.

‘Why are you following me home?’ she asks. They’re approaching the other side of the reserve, it’s getting dark and yet he’s showing no signs of turning around.

‘I just wanted to talk to you.’

‘Why?’

He shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I think you’re pretty. Do I need another reason?’

She almost stops in her tracks. Her heart fumbles its beats, and all she can hear is Jake: Em’s so ugly. ‘No, I’m not,’ she says quietly.

‘Okay,’ Tyler shrugs. ‘Wrong word. Beautiful then.’

She doesn’t believe him. She shakes her head to herself, but a smile seeps into her lips. She feels something thaw. A seed breaks open. Something dormant now reaches for light.

It’s just gone dark, and they trek up the narrow walkway – the grass here short and dry compared to the lush green below. They make their way over the road, past the water tower. Beyond is the main road, and over that, unmade roads, farmland, horse properties. Hers is on the border of suburbia. It’s not a busy road, no street lights. The cold wind in the towering gums make it hard to hear anything above their thrashing. They look both ways and as Tyler steps out, she spots the blue-black shadow of a car, right on top of them. She grabs his arm, a gasp escaping as she yanks him back. Red light floods their faces as the car breaks, having seen them at the last second too and realised their mistake. The headlights come on, and the car speeds away.

‘Whoa,’ says Tyler, looking back at her, eyes wide with fright. ‘You just saved my life.’

She says nothing, but she doesn’t let go of his arm until they’re safely on the other side. His skin is the smoothest she’s ever imagined, the fine gold hair like silk beneath her fingers, the firm muscle beneath, warmth in the cold.

‘Lucky I was with you, or I might be dead,’ he says.

‘You wouldn’t have been here at all if you hadn’t followed me,’ she says.

‘Worth it,’ he grins.

She shakes her head, unable to keep herself from smiling.

In another few moments they’re in front of her driveway and he’s stopping. ‘Thanks for letting me walk with you.’

‘Thanks for not getting hit by a car.’

He smiles. ‘Tomorrow then?’

She’s bewildered, giddy with happy surprise. ‘Sure.’

‘Cool. Now I’m gonna run, before my bike gets stolen.’ He’s smiling as he turns away, breaks into a jog and slowly fades into the dark.

~

All she can think about is the size of Bonnie’s nose. She feels herself smiling, sitting in the middle of the classroom. Bonnie is sitting up the front with Melissa and Holly, laughing. Occasionally she throws her head back for a particularly large guffaw, and all Em can see is a baby bird in its nest – beak split open expectantly; she even has big dark circles around her eyes, and her lids are veiny, just like a bird pre feathers. She really isn’t very attractive at all. How has Em never noticed? It’s simply perceived beauty, perpetuated by her ever self-asserting popularity.

At lunch, Em sits with the popular group. All Bonnie’s attack did last night was make her want to sever ties with the nerds for good. But Bonnie and losers aside, all she can think of Tyler.

‘What’s with you?’ Holly asks, nose wrinkled in an amused smile.

‘Nothing,’ she says, but she can feel a smile on her lips.

‘Oh my God, what?’ Holly nudges her shoulder and leans in. ‘Tell me!’

‘Nothing!’ she says, grinning. ‘I’m happy, that’s all.’

‘That’s a first,’ Bonnie sneers, rolling her eyes.

Once she might have stood up and stormed off at that remark, but she simply sits there, watching the low dip between Bonnie’s nostrils.

There are three main boys in this group: Nathan, another Sam, and Drew. ‘Why’re you being such a bog Bonnie?’ Nathan asks, who’s the tallest of the boys, with shaggy blonde hair and sea-green eyes.

Bonnie pretends she didn’t hear him.

~

She leaves her Nan’s place early today, and so does Tyler. This time they don’t cross the culvert straight away; they sit down in the long grass beside the jagged rocks in the last of today’s sun. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and cargo pants, all covered in dirt; he sits with his hands planted behind him, legs stretched out in front. She sits crossed-legged; her pleated grey skirt fanned out across her lap.

‘Why did you leave school?’ she asks, pulling at blades of grass.

‘My grades were shit. My parents told me I could either do better at school or leave and get into a trade, so I dropped out the next day.’

‘Do you enjoy being a landscaper?’

‘Oh yeah. So much better than being in school with teachers treating you like children and all the schoolyard bullshit.’

She raises her eyebrows and nods, wishing she could know what it felt like to be free.

‘What do you want to do once you leave?’ he asks.

She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I’m not really interested in anything. I mean, I like art, but I hate doing it at school because I’m not allowed to do what I want. It’s always a lesson about some old painter who chopped his ear off or whose work I can’t stand.’

‘Why don’t you drop out? Go to trade school? They have some good art and design courses.’

‘My parents won’t let me.’ Particularly her dad, who never finished school himself. She doesn’t know what he’s worried about though – he owns a real estate company now, and has more money than he knows what to do with. ‘Truth is it’s not the work side of school I hate the most,’ she says. ‘It’s the social side. Everyone’s just so awful.’

‘You’re not,’ he says, his deep blue eyes squinted, locked on her face.

‘I’m nothing there. I can’t be myself. I don’t know how to move, how to act, what to say. I don’t fit in with any one group. I always feel out of place. It’s exhausting.’ She wants to cry, because it’s true and it hurts and it’s embarrassing to say out loud. But he is listening, truly hearing her, and somehow she can say it to him. ‘You wouldn’t know what that feels like. You were popular at school.’

He smiles. ‘Trust me, once you get out into the real world, the last thing that matters is whether or not you were popular in school.’

She sniffs, mostly because her nose is cold, a little because she’s holding back tears. ‘I still have over a year and a half before it stops mattering for me.’

He sits forward, draws his knees up and rests his forearms on them. She imagines him pulling up a long blade of wheatgrass, putting it between his teeth. ‘You’re thinking like school’s twenty-four-seven,’ he says. ‘You finish at three-thirty, then the real world starts. And that’s where I am.’

She smiles, studying his face. He has cute dimples when he does that smug, closed-lipped smile.

~

Everything feels different. At school, she imagines seeing it all from Tyler’s perspective. What would he have thought of this person and that? This would have rolled off his back, he would have laughed at that. Outwardly she isn’t any different. Only she knows her silences are no longer fraught – they’re content. There’s a permanent smile inside her that only she knows is there, and that’s what makes it so special. He’s her secret, her perfect escape. Because of him, she doesn’t feel alone anymore.

They’re sitting on the oval. Nathan is stretched out on the grass, his arm is bent over his face to shield his eyes from the sun. Melissa is talking fast and loud right next to him, complaining about their science teacher.

‘I told him I wouldn’t be here for the exam next week because I have a doctor's appointment, and he asked me – in front of the whole class – “what for?” I was like, that’s none of your business! He said sorry, but he is such a douchebag! Oh my god, I hate him so much. He’s so slimy. He gives me the creeps.’

‘Hey Melissa,’ says Nathan sleepily. Then yells, ‘Shut your ugly hole!’

Everyone laughs – no one harder than Bonnie. Melissa, speechless, looks around at everyone with a dumbfounded smile on her face. Em laughs out of surprise – it was so abrupt, and she knows he doesn’t mean it, not really.

~

The light is dull and the sky is grey; it’s cold, but they’re sheltered by tall grass, forming walls around them. They’re on the other side of the culvert today. They’d crossed together, hand in hand – balancing one another, and now they’re lying side by side.

‘Should I bother asking how school was?’ he asks, speaking softly, his face turned towards her.

‘It was horrible,’ she says, and tells him about the ‘ugly’ comment at lunch. ‘I’ve spent the rest of the day thinking about it. I feel bad for laughing. I mean, it was funny, but the look on her face… I sort of assumed she was fine because she was smiling, but, now I feel like I should have made sure she was okay.’

‘That’s a dick thing to say,’ says Tyler. He turns onto his side, folding his arm under his head like a cushion. His other hand lingers on the narrow strip of grass between them.

‘One of my friends said that about me,’ she says, fighting the want to keep it in, hide the shame of it.

‘That you’re ugly?’ he frowns.

She nods. ‘Not to my face. And he doesn’t know I know he said it. Another friend told me, so I reckon he really meant it. It’s such an awful feeling.’

‘God high school’s fucked,’ he says, looking up at the sky as if to contain some greater reaction. ‘Guys can be bitchier than girls sometimes. You are not ugly. Your so-called “friend” is a dickhead if he thinks that. Who is he anyway?’

‘His name’s Jake. He’s a nerd, you wouldn’t know him.’

‘Jake Howlet?’

She looks at him, surprised. ‘Yeah.’

‘That little weasel-looking dickhead who’s obsessed with cricket? Pointy face and buck teeth?’

She laughs. ‘Yeah, that’s him.’

‘Oh my god,’ he smiles. ‘He’s such a little bitch. I had Tech Group with him a few times and his face just annoyed me. And so did everything that came out of his weasel mouth. Little know-it-all ponce.’

She laughs, which feels strange, foreign. ‘He is a bit weasel looking,’ she says, realising this is the second animal-like similarity Tyler has drawn her attention to amongst her ‘friends’.

‘The irony,’ says Tyler. ‘Weasel Boy, commenting on your looks. Little prick. I wanna bash him now.’

She smiles, relieved once again. She feels lighter, sharing these things she’s carried so heavily for so long. She feels safe with him. Free. As she watches him, a thought crosses her mind, a sad truth she doesn’t want to admit but needs to share – needs him to know she knows. ‘If you were still at school, there’s no way we’d be friends.’

A dimple appears as one side of his mouth peels into a grin. ‘Is that what we are?’

Warmth. That’s all she can feel, inside and out. And when he leans in and kisses her, it’s like being brought to life. Her heart is racing, thrumming beneath her chest as his lips meet hers softly. Everything was grey before this moment, bleak and cold. They aren’t lying in the dreary old reserve anymore – this is Arcadia, and she’s seeing in colour for the first time in years.

His kiss is unassuming, almost delicate. His hand is on her waist, his touch light and warm. He smells like earth and sun.

And Lynx.

She turns onto her side, moving further into the kiss, and his hand goes around her, pulling her gently in.

This can’t be happening. It’s too perfect to be true.

No – she shuts that thought out. It’s too beautiful to question.

He’s hers, she’s his. Nothing else matters.

~

He walks her home, fingers interlaced with hers. Her hand feels small in his, almost childlike. They stop in her driveway, it’s just gone night and the porchlight is on, glowing yellow in the grey-blue of new darkness.

‘Where do you live?’ she asks, facing him now.

‘Across the train tracks, on the poor side of town.’ He’s smiling as he says this, doesn’t care about their differences any more than she does. ‘Hey um, which window’s yours?’ he asks, nodding once towards the house.

‘Dead centre, at the far end,’ she replies.

‘Would you care for a visitor later tonight?’

She smiles, nods, and he kisses her, pulling her in to him. He’s only wearing a light t-shirt and work pants, but he’s warm in the cold night air, like there’s fire is beneath his skin. She could stay here, in this moment, in his warmth, forever.

The hallway lamp is off. She can tell because the strip of light bordering her bedroom door isn’t there anymore; that means her parents are in bed at the other end of the long farmhouse.

A gentle tap on the glass makes her blood rush. She hurries to the window, breath arrested in her throat. Pulling back the curtain, she sees fragments of him in the dark; his face, pale and featureless against the blackness, and his shape blocking out the moonlit paddock beyond the eaves of the house. She holds the window open and he climbs through, slotting his broad shoulders through the narrow gap. He’s wearing a hoodie and jeans now. All she’s wearing is a white t-shirt dress and underwear.

He kisses her immediately, holding her face in his hands. She can smell soap on his skin, taste toothpaste on his lips.

After a moment he draws back, takes her in with a soft smile on his face, then looks around the room. The walls are duck egg blue, butterfly fairy lights twist around the black metal of her bedhead, creating an arch of light around the pillows.

‘Double bed,’ he says as he passes it. ‘Just for you?’

Her heart is hammering, making her feel breathless. ‘Don’t you have a double?’

He shakes his head, smiling. ‘Poor side of town, remember?’

She knows she’s privileged. Her parents have provided the life so many people wish for, and yet she’s bone achingly miserable. They’ve given her everything and expect her to be happy. She feels like an ingrate.

He stops before a photo on the wall, peers in close. ‘Is this you?’

She holds onto the bed rail to keep her hands from fidgeting. It is her, riding her old horse. ‘Yeah. Me and Rufus.’

He raises his eyebrows nods. ‘Rufus?’ he repeats, smiling.

‘I didn’t name him,’ she says, ashamed of her embarrassment. It wasn’t the best name, but he was the best pony a girl could have had.

‘Do you still have him?’

She shakes her head. ‘No, he died a few years ago. That’s when I stopped riding.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says.

She shrugs. ‘He was old.’ She thinks of Bonnie, here, in her home every day, still doing the thing they used to do together. It had already turned sour between them when Rufus died. Not long after he passed, she went with Bonnie to a track they used to ride together, walking while Bonnie rode. She’d hoped to reconnect, wished to go back to the way things had been. But Bonnie was a long way ahead when she stopped at a Council sign, turned back and called, ‘Sorry Em, no dogs allowed.’

That had been a long walk home.

‘You miss him?’ Tyler says, watching her closely.

She nods, hugs herself and sniffs.

He comes to her, across the bed and puts his hands on her waist. ‘You’re a sensitive thing, aren’t you?’

She nods again. ‘I wish I had a thicker skin.’

He looks down at her arms, runs his fingers up them, feeling her. ‘Your skin feels pretty perfect to me.’

She smiles through her tears. How can he cut through all that hurt? It shrinks at his touch – vanishes at his kiss.

He puts his arms around her and lifts her onto the bed with him, and all she knows is his warmth. He’s over her, around her, surrounding her, kissing her lips, her jaw, her neck. He breaks from her to pull his jumper off, throws it to the floor, then he’s back, feeling her through her top, his groin pressed against hers.

He doesn’t rush. He kisses her like the night is endless. It feels natural to be with him, familiar, and yet he’s so new. She wants to feel him more than she already can, wants him so much more than she already has him.

He doesn’t ask if it’s her first time, or why she doesn’t bleed. He doesn’t care about anything that’s happened before, or what will happen in the future. He’s gentle and focussed, concerned only with every moment between them here and now.

~

It’s Friday night and there’s a party at Erin’s house.

She only lives a few blocks over, so Em walks there, wishing Tyler was with her. She’s wearing a short, pleated khaki skirt and a black tank top. Jake seems happy to see her as she walks up the paved driveway. He greets her before anyone else does, and takes to her side like they’ve arrived together. She isn’t used to this kind of attention from anyone at school. No one ever seems to miss her if she isn’t there, or be terribly excited when she shows up, but Jake’s behaviour is bordering on affection, and all she can think about is Tyler.

She sips a cruiser and laughs with the girls as they watch Dan and Josh pretend to kill each other in ‘Live Mortal Kombat’ – it’s geeky and ridiculous, but amusing.

She feels electric tonight – charged, almost confident. Maybe it’s Bonnie and that group being a no-show, she can enjoy being with people from school without a constant sense oppression.

As they laugh, standing around in the front yard, Jake comes up behind and put his arms around her, holds her – like they’re together. She allows it, because it’s such a shock and a relief to know she’s been seen, but as she processes it – the irony – the assumption.

Em’s so ugly.

She imagines placing her hands on his forearms, pushing them down. ‘What’re you doing?’

‘I want to hold you,’ he’d say. ‘You look beautiful.’

She’d scoff. What was all that pain for then? All that hurt and angst she’s suffered in silence for? ‘You think I’m ugly, remember?’

A few people would hear, stop and listen.

He’d frown, drawing back. ‘What? I don’t think you’re ugly!’

‘Then why did you say that to Tom?’

His face would go blank, his eyes would shift to Tom, across the front yard.

‘You don’t remember?’ she’d ask, staring at him.

He’d shake his head.

‘Well, I’ve remembered enough for the both of us.’

‘Em, I’m so sorry, I clearly didn’t mean it.’

‘Not clearly. You said it behind my back.’

He’d look vexed, trapped. The girls would be watching, the boys now too. He’d be stuck, speechless. He’d have to face his own words, his own judgement.

She imagines this, but she doesn’t do it.

~

At school on Monday, she sits alone in class. Jake saved her a seat, but she doesn’t take it – the more she thinks about his arms around her, the more a sickening guilt seeps in. It’s not so much about betraying Tyler – the betrayal was to herself. He said she was ugly, and then she let him claim her. For what? Some attention.

He doesn’t approach her, and neither does anyone else. She feels invisible again. No, not invisible. Seen, but not wanted, like rubbish that’s missed the bin – misplaced, rejected.

She tries to focus on her work – what school is supposed to be about, but she’s never been a good student. Not like Bonnie. Everything seems so effortless for her. She has the neatest handwriting, the most organised work, the best marks, yet all she seems to do is focus on her social life.

The bell rings for lunch, and she wonders, if she doesn’t go to one group or another, would anyone come looking? Would anyone even notice her absence?

She knows the answer.

There’s an ache in her chest, a vacuous hurt. She goes to sick bay, says she feels nauseous and needs to lie down – and by the time she gets to the single bed that smells like dust and disinfectant, it isn’t untrue. She wants to throw up. She lies on her side and curls into a ball, hugging her stomach and frowning into the pain. But where is the pain? She can’t pinpoint it. One minute it’s in her chest, the next her stomach, then her head.

The curtains, which look cut from old pale blue bed sheets, are drawn in the little room. But she can see outside through a gap between the material and the window sill. The red brick courtyard is scattered with kids, all in pairs or groups, all laughing, talking, playing under the wooden archway where wisteria grows in summer.

She stays there until home time. Her mum picks her up today – late. She’s always late, always busy, forgets the time. She’s a tall woman, lean and slim – a horse rider. That’s what she does, all day, every day. Horses, competitions, riding holidays, lunches with the horse girls.

Em stares out the car window, cheeks flushed, eyes watering. Flashing past her window are lush green paddocks, dotted here and there with horses and sheep and cows. Somehow, amongst all that life, her gaze always falls on the lone gums, long turned white, bleached by age and the sun. No leaves, just limbs, frozen in time. ‘I don’t want to back to school, Mum.’

Her mother laughs tiredly; they’ve been through this before, many times. ‘Everyone has to go to school, Emily.’

Tears drop into her lap. ‘I don’t have any friends.’ Saying it hurts – her throat constricts.

‘Of course you do! What about Bonnie?’ she says, her voice a dull shriek. Frustration, annoyance. She loves Bonnie, doesn’t think Bonnie would, or even could, do any wrong.

She shakes her head. That’s all she can manage.

~

They’re lying in her bed, on their sides, facing each other. The fairy lights a halo warm light around them. Everything is silent. He’s running his fingertips up and down her back softly, a sense of forever in his touch. Their foreheads are almost touching, they’re breathing slow, into each other. In. Out. In. Out.

‘I live for this,’ she says quietly.

He smiles, and whispers back, ‘Me too.’

She doesn’t want to sleep, doesn’t want to miss a minute of this, because once she wakes up, the pain will come back, and it’ll be another full day until she can do this again.

~

The whole year level is in the portable. All students are seated and a handful of teachers are standing around, trying to look casual, but there’s tension, despite their efforts to make this a relaxed, safe space. Cram fifty teenagers into a room and start talking about sex, and no one is relaxed.

The P.E teacher, Mrs. Jenkins, is giving an age focused talk about peer pressure. She’s asking a series of questions, all along the vein of ‘If a person doesn’t feel ready to have sex, should they have sex?’ and has asked them to stand if their answer is yes. So far, no one has stood. This is supposed to be a foolproof way of breaking down schoolyard stigma.

Mrs. Jenkins asks, ‘Are you a loser if you’re still a virgin at seventeen?’

No one stands.

No one, except Bonnie.

The teachers, the students, all look at her, defeated.

She shrugs. ‘What? I’m just being honest.’

No one looks at her longer, harder than Em.

‘Sit down Bonnie, ya mole!’ Nathan yells. There’s a trickle of laughter. He gets told off, but one of the male teachers tells her firmly to sit down and she does, looking nauseatingly self-righteous. All the girls sitting around her look embarrassed, giggling nervously. Em can sense the monumental wave of disapproval crashing on Bonnie, but all she can think about is the crushing shame of every virgin in the room, all nearing or already seventeen, all now on Bonnie’s clock, and all this session's good intentions undone in a single motion.

Em wants to disappear, shrouded in shame. It’s so heavy it feels like everyone could see it if they looked at her too close.

~

She can’t bear to go near Bonnie, and she’s had an aversion to Jake ever since Erin’s party. So she goes to Erin’s group at lunchtime, who hang out behind the horticulture building. There’s a huge deck overlooking the student garden they like to lie on when it’s sunny, and the muso’s who make up most of the group sometimes play guitar and sing together.

‘Hey Em,’ Erin says curiously when she sits down. ‘You okay?’

‘Yeah, fine,’ she says. An automatic response to that question. What’s she meant to say? ‘No, I’d rather die than be here’?

‘What’re you doin’ over this side of the school? Had enough of Brown Nose?’

‘Brown Nose?’

‘Bonnie Brown. The brown noser.’

Em smiles. ‘Oh. Yes, I think I’ve had enough of her to last the rest of my life.’

Erin nods. ‘What about Jake? He was all over you at my place last week.’

‘Yeah… that felt really wrong.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I have a boyfriend.’

‘Really? Who?’ she frowns.

‘He doesn’t go here anymore. We met outside school.’

‘Why didn’t you bring him to the party?’

She shrugs. ‘I don’t want everyone knowing. Especially Bonnie.’

‘Why especially Bonnie?’

‘Because she used to have a massive crush on him.’

She laughs. ‘So? It’d do her good to realise she isn’t God’s gift to men. You shouldn’t hide it because of her.’

She feels nauseous now, shaky. She can hear her blood whooshing in her ears and her chest is burning. Now will inevitably find out and want to know everything, and Em doesn’t know if she can lie to Bonnie’s face. Why did she tell Erin? Why didn’t she just keep it to herself, for her and no one else? Sacred, special, as it has been.

He’s not her secret anymore.

~

She and Bonnie get off the bus together. Em feels quivery and nervous, and she’s wishing there was a different route she could take to her Nan’s so she could turn off now, but there isn’t, not unless she wants to add forty minutes to her walk.

‘So, who’s this boyfriend?’ Bonnie asks, sounding amused.

Her stomach turns, her heartrate palpitates and she feels faint. That happened a lot faster than she’d been expecting. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she says.

‘Um, yeah it does. This is me you’re talking to. As if you get a boyfriend and don’t tell me about it!’

‘Why would I tell you anything?’

‘Because I’m your best friend,’ she says, the ever-present confidence in her voice waning.

Em stops walking. ‘My best friend?’

Bonnie rolls her eyes but stops too, crosses her arms and turns back to glare at her.

‘You haven’t been my best friend since year six! You’ve treated me like a dog – worse than you’d treat a dog. You’ve made me feel like a pariah in my own home, at school, on the bus, even here! You’ve made my life hell – for years. Why would I tell you a thing about what’s going on in my life?’

Bonnie is silent for a moment. It’s the first time Em’s seen her look anything other than smug. She’s done it – she’s silenced the insufferable Bonnie Brown. She takes a moment to enjoy her win, as sour as it is.

For a moment Bonnie is silent. The only sound is the hiss of the cold breeze in the long grass surrounding them. The girls stare at each other, gaze locked. They’ve barely looked each other in the eyes for years. Just sideways glances while the other isn’t looking.

Em realises, looking at her now, she still loves her. That’s why this hurts so much.

‘Who is he?’ Bonnie demands bitterly. There are tears welling in her eyes. She presses her lips together, trying to stop her chin from quivering.

Em shakes her head. How far can she take this? How much can she punish her? Does she even want to? In this moment, seeing the pain in Bonnie’s eyes, she doesn’t think so. But Bonnie has punished her for so long, made her feel like vermin, dirty and loathsome.

She takes a deep breath and her eyes somehow swallow the tears that had been about to spill over. ‘Tyler Ashford,’ she says steadily.

Bonnie looks dumbstruck, speechless. Her tears fall onto her chest, marking her maroon jumper with dark spots. Then she spits, ‘Bullshit. He’d never be interested in you.’

‘Why not?’ Em asks, calm, steady. ‘You used to be.’

Bonnie’s hazel eyes squeeze closed and she turns away, hugging herself. ‘Fuck you,’ she calls weakly over her shoulder.

‘No, fuck you Bonnie!’ Em yells. ‘You’re the worst person I’ve ever known!’

Bonnie marches away, hunched against the weight of her backpack.

~

Tyler collects her, wrapping her up safe and tight. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asks, his voice a mixture of surprise and concern. He presses his lips against her forehead, bending to her, listening to her sobs as if they might tell him something. He rubs her back and coos softly, swaying her gently. When her knees fold he goes down with her, not letting her away from his chest. ‘Hey? What’s wrong? What happened?’

‘I want to disappear,’ she barely manages, her throat constricted with anger.

‘Why?’

She can’t speak, can barely think. There’s that pain again, that nauseating emptiness at her centre, taking her breath away. She’s frowning so hard it feels like her forehead could cave in, and she cries. ‘I just don’t want to be here anymore. I want to vanish. I want to fall asleep and wake up when it’s all over.’

‘When all what’s over?’ he asks.

She shakes her head, searching for another word – any other word – than: ‘Life.’

~

She doesn’t go to her Nan’s today. She goes home, sniffing, eyes swollen and sore from crying so hard and for so long in the reserve. He holds her hand, walking in the cool afternoon sun. They usually do this walk at dusk or just after dark so she’d arrive home after Bonnie is gone, but today it’s broad daylight.

Bonnie is brushing her horse down near the barn, leaning against the mare’s neck. Em can tell tells she crying, but it brings her no satisfaction. All there is between them now is hurt.

In the driveway, she pauses. Her mother is inside; she’ll see she’s been crying and demand to know what’s wrong.

She’s exhausted, bereft. She can’t do this anymore.

‘I’m with you,’ he says, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

~

Her mother is in the kitchen, clearing up dishes from an afternoon with the horse girls. She stops the second she sees her daughter and stares. ‘What’s wrong?’ she asks, drying her hands on a tea towel. She comes to her, a look of intense concern on her sun-kissed face.

‘I need to talk to you,’ Em says, her voice strained, weak.

They sit down at the dining room table, her mother on one side, her and Tyler on the other. He’s still holding her hand, cradling it in his.

She looks up at her mother, waiting with her fingers interlaced before her face, as if in prayer. ‘I’m not going back to that school. I can’t.’

She’s frowning, but it’s one of concern this time, not disapproval. ‘Why?’ she asks steadily.

Em sniffs, unsure how to begin. ‘I’ve messed up,’ she croaks.

‘Oh God, you’re not pregnant, are you?’

‘Jesus, no.’

‘Then what’s wrong? What’s happened? Talk to me, please? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.’

Em can feel her hand in Tyler’s, warm and supportive. His skin is smooth but hard, callused on the inner pads, workman’s hands. His thumb is tracing back and forth against hers, comforting her.

She can feel it, but it isn’t real.

She looks down at the empty chair beside her, looks through the space he’d be taking up if he were really there.

The clock on the wall is ticking, it’s the only sound in the room. 4.47pm. This time tomorrow everyone will know she’s made it up. Bonnie will tell her friends and they’ll tell his friends who still go to school, and then he will find out, and confirm they’re not together – he doesn’t even know her.

‘Emmy,’ her mother says, gentle urging in her tone. ‘Please? Tell me. What’s wrong?’

She looks back at her, beyond pretending everything is fine, everything is normal. Numbness is bleeding into the ache in her centre, and the cold bleak of reality snuffs out the last of her fantasy. He isn’t with her, not even in her mind now.

She feels lifeless, as if she’s somehow outside herself, watching as she sits alone, opposite her mother. ‘I think I need help.’