I pass row upon row of white roses. Sophie is on the grass by herself, propped up on her forearms and toes in a plank. Her tiny body quivers in black leggings and a tight tank top. Then her phone beeps and she collapses to the ground.

I follow the sound of beats from Jimmy’s portable speaker past the rows of flowers. I see the red bulbs of our flame tree, blooming proud.

I walk up to the crew, who are sitting in a circle near the base of the tree.

‘Bruz, the joint’s dead,’ Leon tells Jimmy. ‘Roll another.’

‘Nah, blud. It’s alive, you just gotta finesse it a little.’ Jimmy pulls out a pair of tweezers from his ornately etched gold ‘trippy kit’ box, in which he stores an assortment of ziplock bags, pipes, papers, cones, scissors, lighters and grass grinders. He pinches the joint in the tweezers and sips on it, then puffs out a cloud of satisfaction.

‘Gotta love that baby J.’

‘You’re a nut,’ Leon says and picks up the last of the gravy-drenched chips, dropping them into his mouth one by one.

‘Bonesy my boy!’ Jimmy shouts. ‘Sweet kicks!’

‘Come and sit down, B.’ Naya pats the ground between her and Aaleyah.

Jimmy takes one final suck on the tweezer joint, then has his customary coughing fit.

‘Oh, that green is loud, my wigga!’ Jimmy grins huge and places the tweezers back in his kit.

‘So, word is you pissed yourself today, Bonesy,’ he says. ‘True?’

‘Jimmy!’ Naya kisses her teeth and glares at him.

‘It’s a joke, Nai-Yah, that’s fam right there.’ Jimmy stubs the roach out. He pulls out his golden flask of Hennessy from his pocket and takes a swig. ‘Obviously it was Shitty who pissed on him. I tell you, for real, I don’t blame Shitty’s mama for running away from him. Dude is a psycho.’

‘What?’ Naya shakes her head. ‘Chase is seventeen years old. He’s not urinating on other students.’

‘Yeah. And Bones is sixteen. He ain’t pissing himself, either.’

‘Bones.’ Naya turns to me. ‘Is that true? Did Chase do that?’

Her expression is the same as when I walked into class today, but her eyes are set in more of a squint and her features have sharpened. She’s ready to be angry for me. I look down at the grass and grab a tuft. I tear out a few strands and flick them into the breeze.

‘I think Bonesy did it himself,’ Tyson says. ‘Cos there was that photo of him in the nappy when he was like five, remember?’

Sherlock Holmes is in the house.

‘Hey babes!’ Sophie jogs over and bends down to kiss Jimmy. He pushes out his greasy cheek to receive, but doesn’t stop chopping up herbs in a plastic bowl.

This is the first time I have ever been happy to see Sophie. She can distract everyone now.

‘Yo,’ Jimmy grunts. ‘You met Aaleyah?’

‘No, I haven’t.’ Sophie’s eyelids retract completely and she beams. ‘Phenomenal to meet you!’ Her voice is like the kind of lolly that’s so sweet it’ll make you sick after one suck.

‘Aaleyah, this is my main piece, Sophie.’

‘Oh, you!’ Sophie slaps Jimmy on the shoulder lightly. ‘I’m your only piece.’ She turns to Aaleyah. ‘I love your headscarf!’

Aaleyah forces a smile. I should be happy, since this has taken the attention off me, but I feel sorry for her. This won’t end well.

‘It’s ironical,’ Sophie says, ‘because you wear it so we don’t judge your looks, right? But it doesn’t work, cos we can still tell you’re a hottie! Such a pretty, pretty face!’

‘Oh. Thank you.’ Aaleyah gives her strained smile again. I don’t think it’s as big a compliment as Sophie intends.

‘Have you ever gone outside without it?’

‘When I was little, a lot. Now, not so much, but I can if I want.’

‘Oh, you should try it some time. I bet you’d look amazing.’

‘She’s fine the way she is, thanks Sophie,’ Naya says.

‘Oh, come on Nay-Nay. It’s not a crime to feel sexy.’

Naya looks at me stone-faced and I crack up. I try to swallow the laughter, but I gag on it then cough it up. Tyson starts laughing at my laugh, because he’s high. Then Jimmy laughs. And Leon. Then Naya and Aaleyah join in, too. And they don’t stop.

‘Okay,’ Sophie says warily. ‘You guys are a special bunch, aren’t you? I better go, Jimmy. Daddy’s around the corner.’ She leans down again to kiss Jimmy’s cheek as he seals a chubby new joint with his tongue. ‘Love you, bae.’

‘Ruvv u too,’ he mumbles.

Leon and Naya eyeball each other in disbelief at hearing that, as Sophie skips off to her waiting chariot.

Tyson passes the joint to Aaleyah but Naya waves it away. ‘She doesn’t do that, Tyson.’

‘Ah,’ Tyson says. ‘Why don’t you smoke the ganja, Aaleyah?’

‘Oh. It’s haram.’

‘Her arm?’ Tyson’s face screws up. ‘You don’t smoke cos of Naya’s arm?’

‘No. Huh-rarm,’ Naya explains. ‘It means it’s against her religion.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it puts you in altered mind state, I think,’ Aaleyah says. Although it’s sort of stuttering, her English is still better than most kids’ at Banarang High.

‘What else is haram?’ Tyson asks.

‘Everything fun!’ Jimmy howls as his finger glides down his phone. ‘Fam, this is crazy. She can’t listen to music with instruments. What music can you listen to, then? She can’t eat pork. Can’t gamble. Can’t dance—well that’s easy, with no music, I guess. Can’t wank. Can’t—’

‘Stop it!’ Naya shouts, her eyes blazing. ‘Jimmy you’re such a jerk.’

‘Can’t drink alcohol,’ he carries on. ‘Chicks can’t marry a non-Muslim—sorry, Ty. Dudes can’t wear gold jewellery. Ha! Fuck that!’ Naya swipes at his phone but Jimmy evades her. ‘Dudes can’t marry more than four wives.’ His head shoots up. ‘Hold up. How many can I marry?’

‘One,’ Tyson says.

‘Jimmy!’ Naya yells.

‘Damn, son,’ Jimmy says. ‘Maybe it ain’t so bad.’

‘Jimmy,’ I snap. ‘Shut the fuck up.’ His face turns stiff. He’s stoned and slow to react, but he’s shocked.

Naya holds Aaleyah’s forearm. ‘Aaleyah, I am so, so sorry. This…’ She loops her palm in a circle in front of Jimmy. ‘All of this…is so problematic, all of the time. It’s not you, it’s him.’

‘It’s okay,’ Aaleyah says. ‘Some people are scared of things they don’t understand.’

‘Daaaaaamn!’ Tyson hollers. ‘Roasted!’

‘What?’ Jimmy says, coming to. ‘I ain’t scared of nothing. I’m down with Islam for sure. Bones, you tripping. And Naya, you told me the other day that you done smashed two guys and one girl back in New York this year alone. So, you can’t talk—you more haram than Harambe.’ He tips out a splash of cognac from his flask. ‘Gotta pour one out for the dead homies,’ he says mournfully.

Naya puts her face in her hands. ‘You are such a douchebag.’

‘You really are, Jimmy,’ I say.

He holds his hands up in surprise at me and mouths, ‘Bro, what the fuck?’

‘I’m not as strict as you think, maybe,’ Aaleyah says. ‘We all do some haram things. Like all the religions. Christianity has many silly things too that not many people do anymore.’

‘True,’ Jimmy agrees. ‘While we ain’t religious, Bonesy is scared of germs and every number that ain’t three, and Leon thinks a big snake runs the world. We are all fucked up in our own ways.’

‘Bruz.’ Leon shakes his head. ‘You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. Plus, we just heard you tell Sophie you love her, and you weren’t having sex when you said it. So, explain that.’

‘Yeah, well you know what…I think I do love that ho, bruh.’

‘Love? Ha!’ Naya stretches her legs out. ‘You don’t know what love is.’

It’s a fun conversation after that. Naya asks Jimmy why he loves Sophie. Jimmy says he loves her for all the ‘usual reasons’—because ‘she’s hot’ and ‘the pussy good’.

Then it turns kind of lame, because they start talking about what ‘love’ is. Leon says love is when you’re prepared to take a bullet for someone. Jimmy says he’d do that for Sophie, but she would have to be shot at her house—because her house has security cameras and the tapes would be released online. Then he’d be hailed as a hero and get his own Wikipedia page and a ‘big-ass funeral’.

It reminds me of a story I saw on the news last year about a guy at a train station who jumped on top of a drunk stranger who’d fallen on the tracks. The train went over the top of them and they both survived—the gap between the tracks and the bottom of the train was deep enough for them to not be touched. The hero guy got keys to the city and hundreds of presents. I asked Dad if he’d do that for a stranger and he said he wouldn’t risk it because he needs to be here for his kids. I asked Trav if he’d do it and he just said, ‘Fuck no.’

‘Why would you want a Wikipedia page when you can’t even see it?’ I ask Jimmy.

‘Well, my G. It’s about my legacy.’

‘Ha!’ Naya cries. ‘What legacy?’

‘My legacy as one of the realest to ever do it.’

‘Legacy for who? You don’t have kids.’

‘You don’t need them if you’re immortal, everyone’s your kid. Like that guy.’ Jimmy points at the stone head that sits on a plinth between our flame tree and the drab gum nearby.

‘We’ve been coming here for years and none of us know who that is,’ I point out.

‘Isn’t it a grave?’ Tyson says.

‘Nah, man,’ Jimmy says. ‘It’s some famous fucker from Banarang.’

‘But what’s the point of getting a statue,’ I say, ‘when no one cares who the guy is?’

‘It matters if he made the world better,’ Naya says. I never expected her to back Jimmy up but I suppose the sunshine and lollipops sentiment was predictable. ‘It’s important to celebrate those who did good things, so we can learn from them.’

I bet Naya wants a Wikipedia page and a day of national mourning as much as Jimmy does.

I dip my head towards the statue. ‘Well, did he do good things?’

Jimmy hops up and studies the plaque at the base of the statue.

‘Nigel Longhorn,’ he reads out. ‘Haha. Long horn. Must have had a big diiiiick.’

‘Read it, Jimmy,’ Naya demands.

‘Humanitarian and gifted pilot. Fought dubya dubya two, renowned for his compassion and kindness. RAAF Number Twenty-three Squadron. Died on duty, eighteen September, nineteen forty-three. Attended Banarang High School, excelled at drama, literature and sport. One-mile state-school running champion four years in a row, blah blah blah…Rest in peace, Longy.’

Jimmy turns back to us. ‘See! He didn’t do shit! All you gotta do is die young. Fuck, by these standards, even Bones could get a statue. How many years you won the hundred-metre freestyle?’

I shrug.

‘Three years straight,’ Leon says.

‘There you go, wigga. We just gotta get famous, turn twenty-seven, then die and get one of these statues saying what good people we were. The Twenty-seven Club, man. I belong in that. If you die young, everyone forgets your fuckups. Like, does anyone ever say their son who crashed his car was a selfish little bastard? Hell no!’ Jimmy rubs up a fire with his palms. ‘All we need is one more hit song that properly crosses over.’

‘Jimmy,’ Naya says. ‘What if that’s not what Bones is meant to do with his life? What if he’s not your accessory.’

I hear cicadas and crickets, and lips sucking on the smouldering joint. I close my eyes. I can smell the boiling summer days to come.

‘Are you going to win the swimming this year too, Bonns? To get your statue?’ I crack open my eyelids and see Aaleyah. ‘I am in your house team, I think.’

‘Well…’ I say. ‘I could if I tried.’ I wink at Naya. Cheeky. I’m a cheeky bad boy. An appealing combo. Naya’s lips move from side to side like she’s swilling mouthwash. Her eyes have lost their lustre. She bows her head and picks at the grass.

‘Everything’s a joke, isn’t it, B?’ she says softly. ‘I just think you should try at something—that’s all I was saying.’

Instant regret. Maybe she doesn’t like bad boys. But she must. Why else is she always hanging out with Shitty? I have no idea what she wants anymore. And I don’t know what I am—good, bad, a realist, something else.

‘Well, I better go,’ Naya says. ‘I need to get ready for Dana’s birthday.’

‘Whaat?’ Jimmy squawks. ‘How the fuck you cop an invite to a Year Twelve party?’

‘Dana’s great. I met her at the counselling clinic on spring break.’

‘It’s called school holidays,’ I say.

‘Whatever, Bones. I’m out. See you all at school.’

I look through the calendar on my phone. The swimming carnival is in exactly one week.