Tuesday 6 September

Dear Future Kate,

At this point in time, you are sitting on a beanbag in Wellness. The sun is streaming and you are basking. Who are you currently? You are the hero of the moment. Even Tash is talking to you. It’s nice, but not important. What’s important is that you stopped PSST dead in its tracks.

Other things that have stopped dead in their tracks – there’s no more sneaking out of the portal. I felt the need to tell Mum and Dad everything – from beginning to end – and that included Orion, Oliver and swapping scholarship study for audition practice.

You know this already, but they didn’t take it well.

I think we’ll remember all our lives the way Mum sighed, and said, ‘Katie,’ and handed the phone over to Dad. ‘It’s not the money, it’s the lying,’ he said. ‘You lied, for six months, over and over.’

They’re angry about the sneaking out, too.

They called the school.

(I’m practically locked in at night by Old Joy, now.)

They still love us, though. They call us every day to tell us – and to check that we’re behaving.

I don’t know who we will be. I know that we don’t have a scholarship for next year, but I know that Mum and Dad are in serious talks about how to help us stay at St Hilda’s. There’s talk of applying for assistance because we’re from a country area. There’s talk of a state school with a good music program and boarding with a friend of Mum’s.

But at the moment the future is unknown. I love that. I’m not making long-term plans. I’m playing cello with Oliver, kissing him quite a bit (cello, kiss, cello, kiss), seeing him during the times sanctioned by Mum and Dad.

There’s been no sex yet. But I am greatly looking forward to it. What’s it like? Actually, don’t tell me. I’d rather find out for myself.

I don’t know if we won the scholarship to Iceland (you know that, future self, but I don’t). Maybe we change again along the way. Maybe in the future we’re playing cello onstage at Parliament House with Oliver, or maybe we’re accepting the Nobel Peace Prize for something scientific. Maybe we’re still in love with Oliver, maybe we’re in love with someone else. That’s an unsettling idea. That past me is falling for Oliver while future me is falling for someone else.

Good exercise, Dr Malik. It’s making me think.

We can be anything, Future Kate. We’re allowed to change our minds.

So, if you’re looking back and thinking, I didn’t get Iceland, I didn’t get the scholarship, don’t regret it. We got more out of this year than money or pieces of paper.

We got the future. Whatever that is.

Love,

Kate