like long-lost friends.
Laura had to catch the bus from the western suburbs, which was a half-hour ride to school and back each day. She wished she lived nearer to the beach because when it came to parties and such, that’s where all the action was.
At recess, Laura and I lined up in the longest canteen line I had ever seen. Seriously, it was like we were queueing for a Coldplay concert or something.
I wasn’t tall by anyone’s standards, but Laura was actually smaller than me. She had tanned skin, which was not an uncommon thing in Paradise, but it was very unlike my own. I made a note to purchase some fake tan ASAP. She had dark hair and dark eyes: Greek or Italian heritage, maybe?
‘The Gilmore house is where all the smart people get sent; it’s a common fact that that’s the case.’ Laura continued her tuition.
‘Oh, and that wouldn’t be because you and I happen to be Gilmore, by any chance?’ I mused.
‘No, for real. As a rule, they put the majority of the academics in Gilmore; the houses are more than just colour-coded division, it’s a class system.’
I thought about that, catching sight of Mars Bar boy loping across the asphalt yard in the distance, feasting on a meat pie.
Could he be some kind of secret genius?
‘Well, what about Chisholm then?’
Amanda’s house: maybe it was a division for people diagnosed with chronic evil?
‘Band geeks.’
Okay, that didn’t make sense.
‘Really?’ I questioned, shuffling a millimetre forward in the never-ending line of starvation.
‘And artsy kind of eccentrics.’ Laura shrugged.
Amanda eccentric? Maybe.
‘And what about Kirkland?’ I inclined my head over to a group of boys, across the way, as if they alone represented the house. To me they kind of did. They were Ballantine’s posse. Four of them sitting on a bench, shirts untucked from their jeans, loosened ties, deep tans and wild hair. They looked like trouble. The sort of students you would want to keep an eye on. They just didn’t seem like anyone else in the school, they seemed free. Ballantine sat in the middle of them, his eyes alight with amusement as he listened to a tall boy with blond shaggy hair telling him a yarn with wild hand movements and flailing arms that caused them to break out in laughter. I watched on with guarded interest; the last thing I needed was to catch his attention. I was kind of working on avoiding him for the rest of my life. Every time I thought back to my rather inelegant exit from Mr Branson’s History class, I wanted the ground to open up.
‘Oh, they’re the beach bums.’
‘Beach bums?’
‘Yeah, you know? The sporty types. The surfing delinquents of society.’ She leant in. ‘Not much between the ears but pretty good between the sheets is the saying.’
Ew.
My face twisted.
Laura giggled. ‘Tell me about it. My brother is one of them and believe me, that is not something you want to hear.’
Brother?
And before I could question her, a figure jumped towards us, wedging himself between Laura and me in the line.
Boon.
Incredulous angry calls sounded from the back of the line, something Boon chose to ignore.
‘Get out, you bloody idiot,’ yelled Laura.
My eyes darted between them, trying as I might to see the family resemblance. Boon had lighter hair and a golden-coloured complexion. Looking at them side by side, they were chalk and cheese.
‘He’s your brother?’ I asked in dismay.
Boon turned around as if spotting me for the first time. ‘Well, looky here,’ he said, flashing a blinding smile. ‘You sure you’re in the right line?’
I offered him a deadpan stare that only seemed to amuse him more.
Boon turned to his sister. ‘I thought Mum told you not to bring any more strays home, creep.’ Boon playfully tugged on Laura’s ponytail, eliciting a fiery glare.
‘Piss off, Boon!’
‘Actually, you two are going to get along just fine, I think.’
Laura turned her back, ignoring his
Laura had to catch the bus from the western suburbs, which was a half-hour ride to school and back each day. She wished she lived nearer to the beach because when it came to parties and such, that’s where all the action was.
At recess, Laura and I lined up in the longest canteen line I had ever seen. Seriously, it was like we were queueing for a Coldplay concert or something.
I wasn’t tall by anyone’s standards, but Laura was actually smaller than me. She had tanned skin, which was not an uncommon thing in Paradise, but it was very unlike my own. I made a note to purchase some fake tan ASAP. She had dark hair and dark eyes: Greek or Italian heritage, maybe?
‘The Gilmore house is where all the smart people get sent; it’s a common fact that that’s the case.’ Laura continued her tuition.
‘Oh, and that wouldn’t be because you and I happen to be Gilmore, by any chance?’ I mused.
‘No, for real. As a rule, they put the majority of the academics in Gilmore; the houses are more than just colour-coded division, it’s a class system.’
I thought about that, catching sight of Mars Bar boy loping across the asphalt yard in the distance, feasting on a meat pie.
Could he be some kind of secret genius?
‘Well, what about Chisholm then?’
Amanda’s house: maybe it was a division for people diagnosed with chronic evil?
‘Band geeks.’
Okay, that didn’t make sense.
‘Really?’ I questioned, shuffling a millimetre forward in the never-ending line of starvation.
‘And artsy kind of eccentrics.’ Laura shrugged.
Amanda eccentric? Maybe.
‘And what about Kirkland?’ I inclined my head over to a group of boys, across the way, as if they alone represented the house. To me they kind of did. They were Ballantine’s posse. Four of them sitting on a bench, shirts untucked from their jeans, loosened ties, deep tans and wild hair. They looked like trouble. The sort of students you would want to keep an eye on. They just didn’t seem like anyone else in the school, they seemed free. Ballantine sat in the middle of them, his eyes alight with amusement as he listened to a tall boy with blond shaggy hair telling him a yarn with wild hand movements and flailing arms that caused them to break out in laughter. I watched on with guarded interest; the last thing I needed was to catch his attention. I was kind of working on avoiding him for the rest of my life. Every time I thought back to my rather inelegant exit from Mr Branson’s History class, I wanted the ground to open up.
‘Oh, they’re the beach bums.’
‘Beach bums?’
‘Yeah, you know? The sporty types. The surfing delinquents of society.’ She leant in. ‘Not much between the ears but pretty good between the sheets is the saying.’
Ew.
My face twisted.
Laura giggled. ‘Tell me about it. My brother is one of them and believe me, that is not something you want to hear.’
Brother?
And before I could question her, a figure jumped towards us, wedging himself between Laura and me in the line.
Boon.
Incredulous angry calls sounded from the back of the line, something Boon chose to ignore.
‘Get out, you bloody idiot,’ yelled Laura.
My eyes darted between them, trying as I might to see the family resemblance. Boon had lighter hair and a golden-coloured complexion. Looking at them side by side, they were chalk and cheese.
‘He’s your brother?’ I asked in dismay.
Boon turned around as if spotting me for the first time. ‘Well, looky here,’ he said, flashing a blinding smile. ‘You sure you’re in the right line?’
I offered him a deadpan stare that only seemed to amuse him more.
Boon turned to his sister. ‘I thought Mum told you not to bring any more strays home, creep.’ Boon playfully tugged on Laura’s ponytail, eliciting a fiery glare.
‘Piss off, Boon!’
‘Actually, you two are going to get along just fine, I think.’
Laura turned her back, ignoring his
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