I’m washing gunk off my hands
after pointlessly playing with
papier mâché for two hours,
when Dawn moseys over.
‘Can I have a quick word, Jess?’
I show her my sticky palms and say,
‘One sec,’
knowing her quick word
will totally turn into some
clock-watching psycho session.
‘Just wondering how you’re finding the scheme.
Any positives from this whole thing yet?’ she asks.
‘Uhh, like what?’
‘I don’t know. Have you learned anything?’
‘Dunno.’
‘Or maybe you made a friend?’
I sneer.
‘Friends?
With that lot? Yeah, right.
You must be joking.’
Nicu is on the other side of the room.
He waves a papier mâché pig
and gives me a thumbs up.
I guess Nicu is my friend.
In a way.
We hang out,
I can rely on him and he’s never tried
to hurt me.
So why haven’t I given him
my number?
I mean,
what would be the harm?