THREE WEEKS LATER
Lockie stood swaying on the beach. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He couldn’t find the others. He looked around, desperate to settle his vision on something that made sense. Flames shot up from the dying bonfire and sparks exploded like fireworks. The scattered groups around it cheered.
‘Throw more on,’ someone shouted.
Lockie staggered forward and blinked. There was a sea of hoodies that looked like everyone’s backs were on fire. He blinked again and got momentary focus. He needed water. He wandered over to the food truck. It was closed. He started to walk around the back of it when he heard Johnny’s voice.
‘Give me the bottle!’ Johnny was saying. ‘Now!’
Lockie could hear sobbing.
‘What are you like?’ said Johnny. ‘Drunkest girl on the beach! Was that what you were aiming for?’
Lockie leaned out and squinted into the low light. Something looked like it was floating in front of gold ribbons hovering over two lollipop sticks. He blinked and saw the college hoodie, and legs and, for a moment, a flash of skin from inside the hood.
‘Stop looking around for someone to rescue you!’ snapped Johnny.
Lockie jerked back in, pressing himself against the side of the truck, squeezing his eyes shut.
No drinking. Stay out of trouble. Stay away from girls.
‘Grow up!’ shouted Johnny. ‘Have you not got it yet? No one is coming to rescue you. No one even knows you’re here!’