Chocolate Box Girls: Sweet Honey by Cathy Cassidy Page B

dad sounds amazing!’
    ‘He is pretty awesome,’ I
     agree. ‘There was no chance of having a laptop of my own when I lived with
     Mum … we just didn’t have the cash. But Dad says it’s an
     essential, if I am serious about my studies. He’s really generous!’
    Just then, my mobile buzzes.
Honey, not going to make it today
     after all – I have a last-minute meeting that looks set to run late. I’ll
     sort something tomorrow, OK? x
    PS: Tell Emma not to wait for me
     for supper. I’ll grab a sandwich at my desk. x
    My shoulders slump. Dad has let me down
     before, of course, but I hoped things would be different here. Still, I guess he
     can’t help it if an important meeting comes up.
    ‘Problem?’ Bennie asks.
    ‘Yeah … Dad can’t
     make it,’ I say. ‘Some big meeting. Which means just one thing,
     obviously …’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I’m all yours,’ I
     announce, hooking my arms through Tara and Bennie’s and setting off along the
     road. ‘Let’s hit the beach!’
    I don’t really expect to see
     Riley at the beach, but I can’t help scanning around just in case. He’s
     not there, of course. Some kids are playing cricket and a few people are walking
     dogs, but it’s much quieter than Sunday. ‘I was going to suggest we do
     something tomorrow,’ Bennie says as we lie on the sand. ‘Go into town,
     go shopping or something …’
    I shrug. ‘Sounds good. I need to
     find some Christmas presents for my mum and sisters. I have to post them soon if
     they’re to arrive in time.’
    ‘OK,’ Tara says.
     ‘Great! We should have a sleepover soon too. Eat pizza and watch movies and
     paint each other’s nails!’
    This sounds like something my little
     sister Coco would do with her friends, but I smile politely and pretend to be
     thrilled. I am out of practice at having friends; some time over the last couple of
     years, my middle-school mates dropped by the wayside, scared off by my wild ways;
     the hard-faced girls I replaced them with were never really friends, I can see that
     now. With Tara and Bennie, I am starting right back at the beginning.
    ‘We could do makeovers,’ I
     say carefully, eyeing the girls speculatively. ‘Try some different styles
     ready to wow the boys at all those Aussie Christmas parties!’
    ‘I don’t think I’m
     going to any Christmas parties,’ Tara laments. ‘Only small, family ones,
     with grannies and bearded great-uncles who smell of cough sweets.’
    ‘Wowing the boys is not easy for
     us,’ Bennie says. ‘That’s where going to an all-girls’
     school sucks. We’ve no idea how to act. We can’t flirt, we can’t
     slow-dance … we’re clueless!’
    ‘We are,’ Tara confirms.
     ‘Two weeks ago, I was waiting at the bus stop when a lad from the boys’
     school asked me if I had a pen he could borrow. I got so flustered I couldn’t
     actually speak – I went crimson, shoved a biro into his hand and ran
     away.’
    ‘She really did,’ Bennie
     confirms. ‘Faster than the hundred-metre dash on Sports Day!’
    ‘If a boy tried to kiss me,
     I’d faint with terror,’ Tara adds. ‘I am a lost cause.’
    My eyes widen. ‘Hang on,’ I
     check. ‘You’ve never kissed a boy? Really?’
    Tara shrugs her shoulders, a slow burn
     of pink staining her cheeks. ‘OK, so I’m a slow learner. Strict parents,
     all-girls’ school. I’ve just never met the right boy. Or any boy, come
     to think of it. I’ve led a sheltered life.’
    ‘You’re not missing
     much,’ Bennie says cheerfully. ‘I kissed a boy called Bernard Harper on
     holiday on the Gold Coast last year, and it was a bit like eating lukewarm soup
     without a spoon. All slobbery and awkward.’
    ‘You never told me that!’
     Tara gasps.
    ‘It wasn’t even good
     soup,’ Bennie says thoughtfully. ‘More like dishwater. Boys are
     overrated. He asked me out and I said it’d never work because we lived so far
     apart, but really it was all about the