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“It’s…complicated.” I wince at Gilly’s incomprehension. “I just want to forget it happened. We’ve known each other since we were kids, after all.”
Gilly’s expression softens. “It’s your call, I guess,” he says. “I can’t believe Lucas did that,” he murmurs, more to himself than to me.
“We don’t have to keep talking about it,” I tell him. “Let’s talk about something fun.”
Gilly stares at me, but after a moment his shoulders relax. “So, I know you’re going to judge me, especially because I have a project due next weekend, but I got invited to this house party up in Brunswick this Friday. This super hot chick from my finance class invited me, and when I asked around, a load of friends were already going. You should come too. I’ve already asked Hugo.”
“What’d he say?”
“He said it depends whether you and Lucas are coming.” Gilly rolls his eyes. “You know how he is. He doesn’t like going to parties where he doesn’t know many people.”
“That’s fair enough,” I say. “I wouldn’t want to go to one either.”
“Yeah, but I’ll be there. And if you encourage Hugo and Lucas to go, that’ll be two other friends. Besides, there’ll be a bunch of people from my birthday party. You know them too, right? You should come.”
“Okay. I’ll think about it.”
Gilly slaps a hand against my back. “Awesome! Remember, however much alcohol you think you need to bring — double it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Lucas
Age 19
My parents divorced when I was ten. At the time, I didn’t properly understand what was happening — I just knew that Mum was teary, Dad was grumpy and that no one talked at dinner. Yes, Dad would lose his temper at me more often than usual, but the upside was that he’d feel guilty immediately after and buy me ice-cream, and Mum would let me play at Charlie’s house all the time.
Charlie and I played the pirate game, and it’s impossible to describe how fun it was. Kids these days will probably say it was dumb because they’re glued to their iPads and TikTok, but in Pirate land, we could do anything. If it was raining outside, then we’d made a fort in Charlie’s living room and say the fort was a hidden compartment in our ship. Or we could make maps for various treasures: an elixir that grants immortality, a precious ruby, a mirror that lets people look into their future.
If Jemima kicked us out of the living room, we’d watch movies in Charlie’s room. Or we’d go into the bathroom and mix up shampoo and conditioner and hair oil to make potions. Or we’d go into the kitchen and use baking soda and vinegar to make explosions.
One time, I accidentally spilled vinegar all over the kitchen bench. Charlie’s dad walked in and I was ready to get in trouble. But then Charlie said it was his fault, and he cleaned it up and said sorry and promised not to conduct science experiments in the kitchen anymore.
Another time, Charlie led me to the kitchen so we could grab a rainbow Paddle Pop each. But Nate was there, and he’d taken three of the ice-creams for himself to mash up into a big ice-cream goop. Charlie got mad because there was only one left and Nate always took all the yummy food for himself, but Nate just stuck out his tongue and ran out of the room.
We looked at the single Paddle Pop left before Charlie announced he wasn’t hungry anymore and let me have it.
The next day, at school, I went to the canteen during lunchtime and bought a Zooper Dooper with the one dollar in change I’d found in Mum’s car. It was no Paddle Pop, but at least it was a good flavour: raspberry. When I gave it to Charlie, his eyes lit up and he gave me a big hug. I’ve missed those hugs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Now
The Brunswick house is Victorian-era, with intricate wrought-iron detailing and a quaint front porch covered in potted plants. During the daytime, it’d look classic and elegant, but now, under the navy sky, it pulses with remixes of pop songs. University students hang around the front sidewalk, smoking cigarettes or vaping. I’d bet money they were from the Arts or Design faculties from their nose piercings, bright berets and chunky boots.
Lucas, Hugo and I walk through the front garden and up the steps, dodging a couple who are making out.
Inside, the house’s wooden floorboards glow under the lights. We dump our alcohol in the 70s style kitchen, with its lino floor, wooden cabinets, and yellow and orange floral wallpaper.
I survey the crowd of people who stretch from the connected living room out to the backyard. Above me, there’s the thump of people dancing or jumping or whatever it is they’re doing upstairs.
“I want to go home,” Hugo says.
“We’ve just arrived,” Lucas says.
“Here,” I say, ripping the cardboard holding the beer I bought together. “Drink some alcohol, it’ll loosen you up.” Privately, though, I agree with Hugo. This many people in such a small place freaks me out, and surely it’s a fire hazard.
At least the house is warm inside compared to the cold night air. It’s almost winter. Next week is the final week of semester, then SWOTVAC, and then the beginning of June marks exam season, and that’s the end of my first semester of university. The fact that half of the year has flashed by so quickly scares me.
