Page 39 of Serenity Falls

‘I watch lots of people. I’m good at watching.’

Yeah, really, I thought, with one lazy eye and those thick glasses.

He reached into his lunch bag and pulled out a giant doorstep of a sandwich.

‘It’s ham,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘I hate ham.’ He held the doorstop out. ‘Wanna swap?’

I hesitated. Was it a trick? Had he spat in it or put something revolting in the sandwich? Was I being set up? I glanced around in case someone else was watching us.

‘I haven’t put a booger in it,’ he said.

Like he had read my mind.

‘O-kay,’ I said.

Gingerly, we swapped sandwiches. I took a bite of the doorstep. It was good. Whatshisname had already demolished one of my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

We ate silently, and that’s all we did. No small talk. No exchange of names, although I was pretty sure he knew who I was. It was kind of weird. Not awkward. But weird just the same. Once we’d finished lunch, he said, ‘Thanks,’ got up and left.

I didn’t really expect to see the ‘weird kid’ again. But the next lunch break he turned up at the same time. And the next, and the next. Unlike me, he had different sandwiches each day, but we always swapped. ‘I only really like peanut butter and jelly,’ he explained. ‘But Mom hates it so we can’t have any in the house.’

‘Doesn’t seem fair,’ I said.

He’d shrugged. ‘When Mom makes her mind up, that’s it.’

I sighed. ‘I know the feeling.’

‘No,’ he said in an odd tone. ‘You don’t.’

He didn’t say any more that day, but I learnt more about his mom as time went on. I also learnt his name was Milo, he was an only child like me, and he lived on the other side of town. I wouldn’t call it the poorer side because there aren’t really any poor sides in Serenity Falls. But maybe the less grand side. Smaller town houses, more usually occupied by couples and single people. He never mentioned a dad, and I learnt more about that eventually too.

We became friends in that careless way that happens sometimes. Friendship by osmosis. And maybe a touch of desperation. It wasn’t like anyone else was going to be friends with either of us.

Milo was easy, in his own slightly weird way. To start with, we only hung out at school. Then we began to walk home together. It was the longer way for Milo, but he didn’t seem to mind. Eventually, we started to meet up out of school and, once or twice, he even came back to my house, although my mom reacted like I’d dragged in a stray, starving cat. I never went to Milo’s house.

In a perfect world, Milo’s friendship would have been enough. But in a way, it only served to exacerbate the ache of loneliness and isolation I felt. I still longed for the acceptance of the other girls, the popular, hot boys. Nor did it change the deep-seated resentment that boiled inside me every time my mom signed me up for some new town event or celebration. I’d done my bit. I didn’t owe the town anything any more.

‘Say no,’ Miles said to me one day when I bitched about the upcoming Pumpkin Patch Party.

‘What?’

‘Tell your mom no. You don’t want to do it.’

I stared at him. He might as well have suggested I fly to the moon or run naked through the streets.

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

She would be mad, I thought. She would shout and cajole and then maybe cry. Emotional blackmail was Mom’s thing. Dad mostly stayed out of it all. My parents had a traditional/old-fashioned kind of marriage. Parenting was strictly the woman’s job. Dad did his bit by going to work and paying the bills.

I guessed the Conservators would be disappointed if I didn’t show up but … what could they really do?

I shook my head. ‘No, I can’t.’

‘So, why not make it her decision.’

‘What?’