Friday 20 December

Dear Future Clem,

Sorry I took so long to write to you. Malik set the assignment back in September and now it’s December. I’m writing from seat 14A of the V/Line train to Shallow Bay. Iris is in Singapore with Mum and Dad, and I’m going to Kate’s for Christmas. I’ll be staying at Kate’s but Ben is just across the fence and we’ve got a date with the aliens on December 21st.

Ady says I am living proof of the indomitability of youth: one week I’m a wreck over Stuart Laird McAlistair and the next I’m kissing Ben Tran on the dance floor at the formal. But while it was happening, I felt it all. What can I say – time is trippy.

Two weeks ago I was walking past the laundromat and I saw Stu with a girl in a Sacred Heart uniform. I went in – she looked about fourteen. Stu goes, ‘Uh, hi?’ I ignored him and patted her hand and said, ‘I’m telling you this as a sister – sure, he’s cute, but he sleeps around. Use protection. I’m not just talking about your lady parts – I’m talking about your heart.’

I don’t know if she believed me. Probably thought I was an unhinged ex. But I hope she did.

Ben and I are having an epistolary romance. On the night of the formal he said he knew that I was broken-hearted and he wasn’t going to be pushy. He said if he had to settle for being just friends, well, he wouldn’t love it, but he could stand it. But then I kissed him, and since then we’ve written letters and sent photos. I send him silly selfies and he sends me photos of rocks and clouds, and baby birds. I can’t wait to see what happens.

Future Clem, where are you? What do you do? Are you happy? I wonder if you’re married with children, or single with a great collection of shoes. When I think of all the possibilities for you my brain can’t cope. You’re in Paris or you’re in Melbourne, you’re on the Trans-Siberian express, you’re making pancakes for your children in a unit in Frankston, or you’re getting a back rub from a male escort before your important meeting with the network. The truth is, I can’t really imagine you at all.

This is me, now, Clem-at-sixteen: I love my family, my friends. I maybe have a boyfriend. I know good things are coming.

I promise to look after me so you can become you.

With love and selfies,

Clem