have it gift-wrapped. Hadn’t you got me into enough trouble already?”
“It’s a present,” she says.
“What d’you mean it’s a —”
Then she holds the perfume out to me. “It’s for you. Sorry.”
She can always steal the wind out of someone’s sails, Cat can. There’s a moment of silence as I take the perfume from her.
“Right. Thanks,” I say, half of me touched, half still wanting to be angry. But I never can stay angry with Cat. I give her a hug. “I am
never
doing that again, OK? Never. Not even if you triple dare me.”
“Fine.” Cat shrugs, then mumbles, “Goody-goody.”
“And I don’t want you doing it either,” I add. “You’ll end up in prison, and what will I do without you?”
Cat laughs. “You should’ve seen your face when he tapped you on the shoulder, though. Priceless.”
I half-smile, half-grimace. “Never! Just don’t. OK?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Cat waves a hand dismissively, then grins and nudges my arm before turning away. “Come on.”
I follow her to the park at the end of town and we head for the swings. We push ourselves, higher and higher, daring each other on and on, laughing from the adrenaline, from the relief, and from the rush of air as we watch the world turn upside down and back again with every kick of our legs.
“You want to come to my house to plan for next lesson?” Robyn asks as we pack up at the end of English the following week.
I’m keen to get out of the classroom quickly. I gave Miss Murray a dumb excuse about having a stomachache for why I missed the last lesson, and I’m sure she knows I was lying. She’s like that. Sees the truth behind your lies. She looks at you so intently it feels as if she can see right into all the little hiding places that no one else is bothered about.
Robyn and I have been paired up for a debate we have to do next lesson. We said we’d research it together. “Sure,” I say.
Robyn smiles as if I’ve just given her my last Rolo. “Cool. I’ll see if Mum will make us pizza and milkshakes.”
“Whoo,” I say with a touch of sarcasm. What are we, twelve? Then I feel bad. I mean, Robyn’s OK — a bit keen, a bit well behaved, but she’s nice enough. She hasn’t done me any harm. Plus she’ll probably be really good at the debate and I’ll be rubbish. I don’t want to muck up our pairing. I smile at her. “Sorry. I mean, that’s great. Thank you.”
We head out together. Miss Murray’s busy shuffling papers around and doesn’t look up as we pass. I should be glad I’ve gotten away without being grilled about last class. Instead, I suddenly feel flat. Is she ignoring me? Is she annoyed with me because I ditched the last lesson? Or am I flattering myself and she doesn’t actually think about her students enough to care one way or the other?
Whatever it is, I realize I don’t like it. I don’t want to be ignored by Miss Murray; I want to be smiled at and praised.
Why I should give a toss either way, I have no idea — but I do.
I smile at Robyn. “Come on. Let’s go to your house and get to work. We’re gonna win this debate, right?”
Robyn grins back at me as we head out of school together. “Right!”
“The fact is, the death penalty saves lives.”
Kirsty Peters pauses to add dramatic effect to her statement. “The threat of paying the ultimate penalty could halt many potential offenders before they commit horrific crimes such as murder and violent rape. Furthermore, it is also the fairest way to offer justice to victims of such crimes. Why should the state pay to keep someone alive, feed them, and entertain them for the rest of their lives, when it is better, fairer, and safer to rid our society of them altogether? As the Bible says, an eye for an eye . . .”
“That’s complete bollocks, Kirsty!”
“Ash!”
I look up at Miss Murray.
“Language.”
“OK. But how can she say that? Someone commits murder, so the state commits another murder to prove that
“It’s a present,” she says.
“What d’you mean it’s a —”
Then she holds the perfume out to me. “It’s for you. Sorry.”
She can always steal the wind out of someone’s sails, Cat can. There’s a moment of silence as I take the perfume from her.
“Right. Thanks,” I say, half of me touched, half still wanting to be angry. But I never can stay angry with Cat. I give her a hug. “I am
never
doing that again, OK? Never. Not even if you triple dare me.”
“Fine.” Cat shrugs, then mumbles, “Goody-goody.”
“And I don’t want you doing it either,” I add. “You’ll end up in prison, and what will I do without you?”
Cat laughs. “You should’ve seen your face when he tapped you on the shoulder, though. Priceless.”
I half-smile, half-grimace. “Never! Just don’t. OK?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Cat waves a hand dismissively, then grins and nudges my arm before turning away. “Come on.”
I follow her to the park at the end of town and we head for the swings. We push ourselves, higher and higher, daring each other on and on, laughing from the adrenaline, from the relief, and from the rush of air as we watch the world turn upside down and back again with every kick of our legs.
“You want to come to my house to plan for next lesson?” Robyn asks as we pack up at the end of English the following week.
I’m keen to get out of the classroom quickly. I gave Miss Murray a dumb excuse about having a stomachache for why I missed the last lesson, and I’m sure she knows I was lying. She’s like that. Sees the truth behind your lies. She looks at you so intently it feels as if she can see right into all the little hiding places that no one else is bothered about.
Robyn and I have been paired up for a debate we have to do next lesson. We said we’d research it together. “Sure,” I say.
Robyn smiles as if I’ve just given her my last Rolo. “Cool. I’ll see if Mum will make us pizza and milkshakes.”
“Whoo,” I say with a touch of sarcasm. What are we, twelve? Then I feel bad. I mean, Robyn’s OK — a bit keen, a bit well behaved, but she’s nice enough. She hasn’t done me any harm. Plus she’ll probably be really good at the debate and I’ll be rubbish. I don’t want to muck up our pairing. I smile at her. “Sorry. I mean, that’s great. Thank you.”
We head out together. Miss Murray’s busy shuffling papers around and doesn’t look up as we pass. I should be glad I’ve gotten away without being grilled about last class. Instead, I suddenly feel flat. Is she ignoring me? Is she annoyed with me because I ditched the last lesson? Or am I flattering myself and she doesn’t actually think about her students enough to care one way or the other?
Whatever it is, I realize I don’t like it. I don’t want to be ignored by Miss Murray; I want to be smiled at and praised.
Why I should give a toss either way, I have no idea — but I do.
I smile at Robyn. “Come on. Let’s go to your house and get to work. We’re gonna win this debate, right?”
Robyn grins back at me as we head out of school together. “Right!”
“The fact is, the death penalty saves lives.”
Kirsty Peters pauses to add dramatic effect to her statement. “The threat of paying the ultimate penalty could halt many potential offenders before they commit horrific crimes such as murder and violent rape. Furthermore, it is also the fairest way to offer justice to victims of such crimes. Why should the state pay to keep someone alive, feed them, and entertain them for the rest of their lives, when it is better, fairer, and safer to rid our society of them altogether? As the Bible says, an eye for an eye . . .”
“That’s complete bollocks, Kirsty!”
“Ash!”
I look up at Miss Murray.
“Language.”
“OK. But how can she say that? Someone commits murder, so the state commits another murder to prove that
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