Saturday 20 August

Detention goes like this:

Me, Kate and Ady, laughing, swearing, delirious, armed with hot water and suds, and super-sized garbage bags. Our task is to clean up the old pool, but our rubber gloves are so big they’re useless for anything other than surrealist mime. Ady’s brought snacks. Kate’s brought portable speakers. She plugs her iPod in. Out here we can be as loud as we want to be. The music spills out, wild beats and street swagger with an infectious disco sample. It makes me want to dance, so I do, and soon, we all are. If Iris could see us her lip would curl. Her mouth would sling itself open, like, Huh? You and her and her?

Detention shouldn’t be fun, but this is easily one of the best mornings I’ve had all term. I feel free. Like I don’t have to explain myself to anyone, like I don’t have to try. I can just be Clem. We work fast and demolish the snacks. And we talk.

How we talk!

We talk about Wellness and boarder micro-aggressions; we talk about bests and worsts: movies and books and rumours and personal disasters;and we talk about PSST, who might be behind it.

‘Anyone with a computer could be,’ Kate says. She starts up with the tech talk but after a bit Ady and I are rubbing our foreheads.

I say, ‘No wonder Iris loves you.’

‘She doesn’t love me anymore,’ Kate says. ‘I’ve ditched our study sessions in favour of Oliver. She thinks I’m distracted.’

‘You’re sixteen,’ Ady points out. ‘You’re supposed to be distracted.’

‘True enough.’

It takes forever to clean the pool, but it’s a nice kind of eternity. When our talking subsides I feel hit with a feeling that’s something like ‘homesick’. Homesick for life before St Hilda’s, life before high school, the kingdom of childhood. Maybe I’m mourning swimming.

‘Earth to Clem!’

Ady throws her sopping sponge at me. I scream and throw mine back at her. Kate moves onto the grass to do some hard-looking yoga positions.

‘My back is killing me,’ she says.

‘I thought you’d be strong from lugging your cello everywhere,’ I say.

‘I am strong. But there’s a limit.’

‘Someone’s phone’s ringing,’ Ady says.

It’s mine. It’s Stu. I know it. My phone is in my jacket pocket – but where is my jacket? I find it too late. Missed call. When I try calling back his line is busy. A voicemail message pops up, and then I hear him. He says there’s a house-wrecking party, his band is playing, do I want to meet him there, and he tells me the address. I can bring people. The more the merrier . . .

I put my phone back in my pocket and do a little happy dance.

‘Wow,’ Ady says. ‘Is he that good?’

‘He’s amazing.’

‘But you haven’t . . .?’ Kate’s voice trails off.

‘I’m dying to, but there’s nowhere to go.’ I tell them about our plan to rendezvous on the long weekend.

Ady’s frowning.

‘What?’ I say. ‘He’s not dodgy.’

‘How old is he?’

‘Nineteen.’

She’s still frowning.

‘What time is it?’ I ask.

Ady checks her watch. ‘Ten to four.’

I look at the pool. ‘You think this is finished? I bet they make us come back.’

‘I don’t even care,’ Ady says. ‘What the fuck. It was fun.’

I grin. ‘What the fuck. It really was.’ Then: ‘Hey, what are you doing tonight?’

Kate says, ‘Well, I’ve got a pass. Officially, I’m staying at Ady’s.’

And it is decided: Kate, Ady and I are going to the house-wrecking party.

‘We’ll do it for Wellness,’ Ady says. ‘Our second date. You guys . . .’ she raises her eyebrows ‘. . . things are getting serious.’