Destroying Avalon 6e4b37

For Mum, Dad and Jane

From a Friend

Sometimes you know something bad is about to happen before it does. You know something’s not right, you get a really bad feeling.

That’s exactly how I felt. Something’s not right. I stared at the keyboard in front of me and then up at the screen. The bad feeling was threatening to overwhelm me; my stomach twisted and my skin broke out in tiny goosebumps. I clenched my fists tightly, forcing myself not to get up and walk away from the desk.

I took a deep breath and stared at the keyboard again, each letter a menacing silhouette against its stark background. And then the desire to know overcame the bad feeling. Just do it. I watched my fingertips quickly hit the keys that made up my . I listened to them clunk, clink, clunk, clink, each letter with its slightly different tone. The two icon figures twirled and twisted together, like dancers, as the page flashed the words g In, g In, to stop me clicking the mouse too soon. The sense of dread engulfed me. This was going to be very bad.

g In. g In.

Hurry up. Now I was impatient. Tapping the surface of my desk with a pencil, my eyes darted to my phone, its message still visible. The page was still g in. I drummed my fingernails against the base of my keyboard. Come on.

And then the blue background of my Hotmail appeared. As promised, I had mail.

Now my impatience fled and I had to steel myself again. I shuddered violently, my skin prickling with a shiver that started in my teeth and finished at my knees. My hand moved the mouse. My eyes were fixed on the screen. The cursor landed on Unread Mail.

Deep breath. Left click.

I looked at the title suspiciously. Your reputation. My stomach twisted painfully again and I swallowed with difficulty. Who was ‘a friend’? Slowly I moved the cursor and clicked on the message.

From: a friend Sent: Tuesday, 3 February, 3.45pm To: [email protected] Subject: Your reputation

Dear Avalon, This is to let you know that your reputation is being discussed at length and the general opinion is you’re a slut. As a concerned friend I think you should check out www.rublogging to see what the population thinks of you. Open Westerly SHS link. A friend

I stared at the email in disbelief, the skin around my mouth prickling in horror. This was much worse than I’d anticipated. What the hell was a blog page? I had to know what they were saying. Something told me I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help it. I shut my eyes and clicked on the link.

I waited a moment and then opened my eyes, breathing in deeply. The online journal page opened. Numbly I followed the directions as instructed. My neck was rigid and my hands trembled as the page took a lifetime to load. And then, there they were. My eyes quickly skimmed them but my stomach was churning

and tears blurred my vision. Six entries about the new girl at school. They were all about me.

The A-Bomb

You know how you feel at the start of the school year: nervous, anxious, sometimes even excited? Me and my mates used to get together in the weeks before the first day, worried about which teachers we might get, or curious to see if there’d be any new people. This year all those feelings were magnified ten times, because I was going to be the new student.

Mum had got a posting back into the metropolitan area. After serving ten years in the country, she finally got a Head of Department position. I’d grown up in Grace Point, just outside Margaret River. We arrived there when I was four, so I’d been at the same school all my life. I knew everyone in town; I had heaps of mates and a social life. It wasn’t much, going to friends’ houses for movies and watching the local teams on the town oval, but I was always busy, every weekend. I was captain of the hockey team and a member of the swimming squad.

The night Mum and Dad sat me down and announced their new plans was, at the risk of sounding overly dramatic, like the bomb the Yanks dropped on Hiroshima.

‘It’ll be fantastic,’ Mum said. ‘We can move up to Sorrento and be near the beach. We’re looking at some really great, top-ranking schools for you. And if you want to go to uni, we’ll be close enough that you won’t have to board.’

I sat there in disbelief. What were they thinking? Grace Point was all I’d known. What could possibly be fantastic about leaving it and going somewhere new? What about my friends — and the hideous prospect of having to make new

ones?

‘No way,’ I said, ignoring the tears that were threatening. ‘I’m not going. It’s not fair. This is my home. You dragged us out to the middle of Woop-Woop and now you think you can shift us back, just because you want to. What about me and Ruby? What about what we want?’

‘You’ll make new friends, Avalon,’ Dad said, ‘and you’ll still keep your friends here. We’re not moving to another country, it’s just a few hundred kilometres.’

Three hundred and four to be precise. I wasn’t going to back down. I didn’t want to change and I was angry with them both. They were full of this crap about the better lifestyle you could have in the country, with cleaner air and fresh, organic produce. And how we could live more individual and fulfilled lives, free from the life-draining, soul-destroying city, with its crime and drugs. Now they were saying the city had better opportunities for me — I felt like an Amish kid being thrown into Rumspringer.

And Mum and Dad believe in democratic decisions. Everyone is supposed to have a vote in our family. Well I was strongly voting a definite NO, but Mum and Dad kept on at me; they weren’t going to stop until all votes were YES. Strange idea of democracy, hey?

And they’re cunning too. They made sure to deliver their bombshell at the start of the Christmas holidays. That gave them nearly seven weeks to wear me down. Every weekend we were off to Perth — to beachside houses and posh-looking schools, shopping for the latest fashions and swinging by the gelato shop for a large three-flavour we’d eat as we watched the sun sink into the Indian Ocean.

Their trickery started to work on me. I began to see how exciting it might be. The houses we were looking at were new and modern, with theatre rooms and separate teenage wings. They were so different from our haphazardly planned and tacked together house in Grace Point, where every room radiated off the kitchen, a gigantic brick-floored room with an enormous old wooden butcher’s block that served as a bench. And Ruby and I would have a bathroom to ourselves while Mum and Dad had their own — surely a better option than queuing cross-legged on a Sunday morning while Dad read the entire Sunday Times on the only dunny in the house. If you were desperate enough, you’d venture to the rickety old loo out the back, cautiously lifting the seat to check for red-backs underneath, the whole time twitching and shuddering if a tendril of weed touched your bare legs — like a spider running, or a tiger snake circling.

And Mum’s master shot had been the university reference. It’s kind of expected in our house that I’ll go there after Year Twelve. With a family of teachers, what real choice do I have? Over the last few years my local school had dropped its tertiary entrance subjects, and kids wanting university acceptance had to travel an hour and a half to the nearest Senior High for years eleven and twelve. Even then, the uni offers were limited. The idea of leaving my family to go to uni had always freaked me out a bit, but if we all moved, I wouldn’t have to worry about being so far away.

Christmas holidays were a blur of packing and travelling between Grace Point and Perth. We spent hours on the road, Mum, Dad, my little sister Ruby and me. Those trips were long and tedious. I’d watch the stretch of bitumen in front of us, our car gobbling up the broken white line as Ruby and I sat in the back singing Wiggles songs.

Ruby is a lot younger than me; I was eleven when she was born, but the age gap has never bothered me. After my birth, Mum, who wanted five kids, couldn’t get pregnant again. I was happy as an only child. Sometimes I thought I’d like a brother or sister, but Mum and Dad always had heaps of time for me and I never felt that I was missing out on anything. When Mum found out she was pregnant

apparently she said to the doctor, ‘But how did this happen?’

The way the story goes, he looked over the top of his glasses at her and said, ‘Mrs Maloney, as a Maths and Science teacher I would expect you’d know!’

I’ve spent heaps of time looking after Ruby, helping bath her and feed her and even — I know it’s gross — changing her crappy nappies. I never understood when my friends complained about their annoying siblings. Ruby was like my mini friend.

On those journeys in the car I’d think about what was going to happen next year. I’d look out the window and watch the long stretches of dry brown grass give way to tall white gums closely lining the edge of the road and then the first sparsely placed houses, becoming denser and denser until we reached civilisation. Driving back was like watching rewind, the houses gradually disappearing, trees becoming further apart, then the patchwork brown and green paddocks that indicated we weren’t far from home. I’d think about all the things I wanted. I was in the mindset now that this was going to be a great change. When I thought about my new school I hoped I’d fit in and make real friends. I wanted to the hockey team and the swimming squad, meet people I could go to parties with, the movies, all that sort of stuff.

When the time came to say goodbye insecurity overwhelmed me again and I clung to my friend Jake. We’d been best friends since kindy, when I’d thrown sand in his eyes and he’d run screaming to his mum.

‘I don’t want to go,’ I said, suddenly frightened of all the possibilities. I buried my face in his flannel shirt. He had that unmistakable warm, earthy smell of horses mixed with the sweetness of freshly cut hay.

He ruffled my hair, a thing he knew always pissed me off.

‘You better not cry,’ he said. ‘You were always going to leave one day.’

I nodded and swallowed hard, ing all the times I’d sat watching him milk the cows and telling him of my plans to travel the world. But it was easy to be brave and adventurous when there was no opportunity to put it into action. In the milking shed, listening to the milk squirting into the metal drums, everything seemed more appealing. Who’d want a life where a holiday was the fivekilometre trip to the front gate? Where even though everything was so far away, when you got there nothing was any different from what you’d just left? The people in town were all fourth and fifth generationers who’d warn, in their knowing way, that once you came and lived in Grace Point you never left.

‘I know,’ I said, turning to look at Mum and Dad waiting for me in the car with the engine running. Ruby was in her booster seat reading her nursery rhyme book upside down.

‘And it’s not that far,’ Jake said, trying to sound convincing. ‘If you don’t like it you can always come back.’

I nodded and took a deep breath. We both knew that would never happen. I was going, for good, and it would just have to be wonderful.

Bye, bye Grace Point, I waved out the window as we ed the stream of traffic heading north. To Perth.

First Day

The new school had a strict uniform: knee-length navy-blue skirt and a white shirt with the school crest on the pocket, all hair to be tied back and minimal jewellery. The guys wore the same, except for the skirt of course; they had to wear navy tros. It was really different from the relaxed uniform at my country school, which was more a dress code, not enforced at all; this was mature looking.

I really felt like things were changing when I put it on. It was like I was leaving the old me, the boring country girl, behind and becoming someone new. It seemed to hold out the opportunity to be anyone I wanted. The night before school started I looked at it lying on the end of my bed like a flattened person and I was excited. You know the way you feel when you don’t know what to expect, but have so many expectations?

I couldn’t sleep all night, stressing out over what would happen on my first day. At breakfast I felt really sick. Looking at my bran flakes floating in a puddle of milk made me want to puke.

‘I feel the same way,’ Dad said, watching me over the top of the paper.

‘What?’ I asked, willing the vomit not to rise. Around me the timber and granite kitchen was still piled ceiling high with unpacked boxes of cups and plates and stainless steel appliances.

‘Sick,’ he smiled and drank his caffeine-free coffee. He didn’t look sick at all to

me, the way he bogged into his eggs and vegetarian not-bacon. The smell made me feel like retching. ‘I’ll be the new kid too.’

‘We all will,’ said Mum, sitting down on the chair next to me, ‘even Ruby.’

Ruby looked up from where she was kneeling on the kitchen chair, porridge in her wispy blonde hair and hanging off the end of her nose, and responded by flicking globs of it at Mum. In a way Mum was right. We were all going to new schools. Ruby was starting day care — I hoped she’d fit in with all the other two and three year olds, and nobody would steal her box of sultanas — and Dad was teaching in the English department at the same school where Mum, who I blame for the whole shift, was the new Head of Maths. And I was about to enter an enormous metropolitan high school, population 1500 — I don’t think that many people live in the whole of Grace Point. It was a small mercy that neither Mum nor Dad was at my new school.

Dad drove me to school. We got there early and sat in the car watching the students arriving. They all looked so neat and professional. Not like at Grace Point where the kids tied surfie jumpers around their waists and the girls wore mini skirts, or jeans, in school colours. These students looked practically adult.

The school was modern, it couldn’t have been very old. Perfectly manicured lawns separated the buildings, with their names — English, Maths, Humanities — displayed on the portico entrances. Each building was surrounded by rose gardens, whose perfume we could smell from the car. Tall, leafy, light green trees shaded the lawns. On one side of the grounds there were netball courts and playing fields and on the other was an enormous two-storey building labelled istration.

It was a far cry from my country school, which catered for pre-primary to Year

Twelve: a single rectangular building of red brick, probably built by the first convicts, surrounded by verandahs with chipped, faded painted railings; where the playing field was the local town oval and the netball court was a warped, volcano-like bitumen surface that also accommodated square ball and hop scotch. I sat in the front of Dad’s car, sweat sticking the backs of my legs to the vinyl seat, feeling intimidated by the size of the place and the maturity of the students.

‘Looks big,’ I said to Dad, not taking my eyes off the school. My stomach gurgled like a washing machine.

‘And new,’ he replied, looking at me closely. I felt his eyes on my face, so I turned to him, swallowing my anxiety and trying to be brave.

‘You’ll be fine Avalon, you’ll make friends quickly.’

I nodded my head, of course I’d be fine. Fitting in had never been a problem before, what was I scared of?

‘Okay.’ I leaned over and kissed Dad. ‘Have a good day too. Don’t let anyone take your lunch money!’

He laughed. ‘I’ll be here at four thirty, after hockey tryouts.’

As I stood at the edge of the drive watching his battered Ford Escort fart and burp its way down the road, I realised people were looking at me. I tried to look

casual and calm as I started walking to the istration Building. Mum had wanted to come with me but I was fourteen, I didn’t want anyone thinking I needed to hold mummy’s hand.

The front office was divided in half by a tall reception counter. There were about five women working behind it at desks and computers. People kept coming and going through several different doors, smiling and grumbling, ‘Back again — another day, another dollar,’ and ‘Holidays already seem like a memory.’ A few of them smiled at me as I waited behind a man who was talking to the office lady. I looked at the photos and awards on the walls, achievements for sport and academic excellence, artwork by Year Twelve students that was so good I was almost embarrassed about the quality of work at my last school. The office lady was laughing loudly with the man in front. I critically assessed him from behind. No doubt a young and potentially cute teacher. As I waited and waited I began to feel like a hillbilly trying to integrate into the big sophisticated city.

Finally it was my turn. The office lady gave me a huge pile of papers and pointed me in the direction of my home room.

‘Mitch,’ she called to the man who was just going out the door, ‘can you take Avalon to her home room? She’s new.’

I wanted to die. How embarrassing! I didn’t want all the kids to see me being walked to class by a teacher. I opened my mouth to say I was all right but Mitch spoke.

‘No worries Ms Johnson, I’ll see she gets there okay.’ He smiled at me with perfect white teeth and then I saw the school crest on his pocket. He was a student! My face started going red; it always happens when I’m embarrassed, and then knowing it’s happening makes it even worse. Suddenly I was hot and

sweaty.

‘Come on then … sorry, what’s your name?’

‘Avalon,’ I said through dry lips.

‘That’s a nice name — different.’ He took the messy pile of papers out of my hands.

‘My parents are a bit different,’ I said quickly, looking at my feet, my embarrassment intensifying.

‘Right, my name’s Mitch, I’m Year Eleven and you are —’ he looked down at the papers in his hand, ‘Year Ten. That’d make you fifteen, yeah?’

‘Fourteen.’ I was stretching my legs to keep up with him. He was over six foot tall, perfect athlete’s build, and had a really long stride. ‘I was put up a grade in Year Seven.’

‘You must be pretty smart then?’ He looked at me with iration and I felt myself blushing again. We were crossing the lawn to a building near the netball courts.

‘Oh I don’t think so. I guess it was all the extra stuff my dad made me do. He’s a teacher,’ I said, by way of explanation.

‘Cool.’ He pushed open the door of the building. Inside, students were laughing and pushing each other, or standing in groups talking. The hallway smelled of new carpet and the walls were decorated with more prize-winning artwork. Mitch stopped in front of a door marked SS4. ‘This is your home room, teacher is Ms McKenzie who, by the way, is really cool. Have a good day — I’ll probably see you out there. Gotta go, I’ve got Mr Truman, a bit of a dickhead.’

He waved at me and left.

I put my head around the door. There were about twenty students, sitting on desks or rocking back on chair legs, talking and laughing. They looked so much older than me and far more confident. I was still aiming for casual but I walked in stiffly and self-consciously, and sat at a desk in the front. I heard their whispers, ‘She must be the new girl,’ ‘nice hair,’ ‘where’s she from?’ ‘I heard her mum’s a principal.’ I sat uncomfortably with my new, rigid school bag on top of the desk, pretending I couldn’t hear anything. I rummaged through it determinedly until I found my school diary, and then made like I was engrossed in reading the school rules and policies. I hoped someone would come and talk to me. The next minute a messy body flopped onto my desk, pushing my bag to the floor and obscuring my reading.

‘Hi,’ he thrust his hand in front of my face, ‘I’m Caleb and you are …?’

‘Avalon.’ I looked up. He had long, dirty blond dreadlocks, pulled back into a leather lackey. His white shirt was open, revealing an obvious wetsuit tan line. Half his shirt hung out of his pants and his odd laces were undone. Compared to the rest of them, Caleb was a total grom.

‘Sweet,’ he said, shaking my hand hard. It felt like my fingers were breaking. ‘Hey guys, this is Avalon,’ he shouted over my shoulder. I turned and smiled, a few of them smiled back and one girl waved. But some of them didn’t even look at me. Immediately, I felt embarrassed and insignificant.

‘Don’t worry about that lot,’ he said, pointing to a group of about six girls who hadn’t looked my way. They were all pretty, with long straight hair and no fringes, their uniforms immaculately ironed and shoes that looked brand new. ‘They’re the stuck up snobs.’ One of them heard and shot Caleb a murderous look.

‘Piss off you surfer dickhead,’ she spat.

Caleb was completely unfazed. ‘See what I mean?’ He pointed to another group. ‘Those girls over there are all okay. Pretty quiet, but you should get to know them. And most of the guys are okay.’ I was grateful he’d come to talk to me. He was a typical surfer with brown face and freckles. His washed-out blue eyes had red patches under them, his nose was peeling — rough pieces of brown skin stood up from newly exposed pink flesh — and his lips were chapped. Just then the door opened and a young, pretty teacher walked in. Caleb slid off the desk. ‘Gotta go,’ he said. ‘Talk to you later.’ He moved to the back of the class. Ms McKenzie smiled at me straight away.

‘Hi,’ she said, and came over and looked at my timetable. ‘Who’s got English first up?’

I looked around the room as several people put their hands up. Unfortunately Caleb wasn’t one of them. He shrugged his shoulders resignedly as I made eye with him.

‘Alice, will you take Avalon to class?’ I looked over at Alice, who smiled sweetly at Ms McKenzie. She was the one who’d told Caleb where to go.

‘No worries Miss Mac.’ The way she said it made it sound like Miss Smack. ‘I’ll help Avalon settle in.’

I looked at her appreciatively, but she’d already lowered her eyes and was whispering into another girl’s ear.

The bell sounded and the room was instantly full of noise and movement, the scraping of chair legs, the rustle of paper and the whisper of synthetic bags brushing against cotton clothing as everyone headed for the door. They waved and smiled at Ms McKenzie who made comments to each of them as they left.

‘Now Caleb, I see you’re breaking dress standards again.’ She sounded stern but I could hear the smile in her voice.

‘Oh Miss,’ he leaned against the table as if he was chatting her up, ‘at least I’ve tied it back.’ He picked up the ends of his ropey hair and waggled them at her.

‘Go on, get to class; you know Mr Truman will issue you with a bluey for those,’ she pointed to his shoes, one with a red lace, the other a blue.

‘They’re school colour,’ he insisted, turning his toes in and out.

‘Caleb!’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I bother with you, I’m always trying to get you out of trouble.’ She shook her head and rummaged through her leather briefcase.

‘Coz I’m one of your favourite students,’ he said, tucking his shirt in for her approval.

‘I wonder. Here,’ she flicked a small blue packet at him. He deftly caught it, snatching it out of the air like it was a flying insect.

‘Shoelaces!’ he said smiling at her. ‘Miss, you’re full of surprises!’

‘Yeah right, like we haven’t done this every year since Year Eight. Now don’t be late to class.’ She waved him out the door. Laughing to herself, she looked up and saw me still filling my bag. I was unsure what to do. Alice was busy talking to a friend and hadn’t looked my way. I felt like a spare.

‘Now Avalon, Alice will show you to your class — and Alice,’ she smiled at the girl who was now waiting impatiently for me with her arms crossed, ‘play nice.’

‘Of course Miss,’ Alice said. ‘Avalon’s in safe hands.’ She grabbed my elbow and led me to the door protectively, like a big sister would. Out in the hallway she dropped her hand. ‘We’d better hurry, we’ve got Smith and he gets pissed if you turn up late to class.’

She walked quickly in front, her blonde hair swinging from side to side, glinting with golden highlights. She wore her uniform casually and well, confident she looked good. She reminded me of Lara from my old school, a girl who could get any guy in any year she wanted. I could never really see why guys liked her: aside from the fact she was pretty — and wore a C cup — she was a right bitch. Like Lara, Alice was very pretty, with perfect, clear skin and pale green eyes. I felt kind of dull and clumsy next to her.

As she pushed open the doors to take us outside I saw her eyes light up. I’m good at picking up tiny details. Dad reckons I’m like a detective. He says I could have a career in forensics, searching for missing clues. Her walk changed from brisk to casual and I noticed a very slight sway develop. She was walking slower now, towards two guys sitting under the leafy canopy of a plane tree. We were almost next to them when Alice suddenly started showing great interest in my timetable and explaining to me each teacher’s nasty habit.

‘Mr Cartwright has really foul breath and he’s a close talker, so you always want to keep the conversation short. Ms Taylor calls everyone folks, like she’s really cool, but she doesn’t know that we all think she’s an old cow.’

Then suddenly, without any reason for it, Alice laughed loudly, swung her hair and lightly tapped my arm. ‘Oh don’t look so worried, it’ll all be okay.’

I had no idea what she was talking about.

I opened my mouth to speak but the next second she’d tripped, fallen onto the lawn and ended in a heap on one of the guy’s bags. I stood there in shock, embarrassed for her. I expected her to be humiliated but she just laughed loudly.

‘Oh God, help me up,’ she offered her hand to me and flicked her hair again. I dropped my bag to take her hand but the two guys had already leapt to their feet and were fussing around her.

‘Alice,’ the tall one said, pulling her up, ‘are you all right?’ She stood up straight, bits of grass sticking to her skirt. Her eyes were about level with his chest.

‘Sure, I’m fine, just a klutz …’

But then he looked at me and cut her off. ‘Hey Avalon, thought I’d see you around, but not so soon.’

‘Hi Mitch,’ I said, feeling the warmth rise in my cheeks. Not again!

‘Jeremy,’ he turned to the other boy, who was picking up Alice’s bag, ‘this is Avalon, the girl from this morning.’

Alice’s eyes had narrowed when Mitch greeted me. Now her teeth were clenched, there was a pulsing in her jaw and she shot me a deadly look, similar to the one she’d given Caleb.

‘You know each other already?’ she accused me.

‘We met in the front office,’ Mitch said dismissively. ‘What class have you got now Avalon? I can take you.’

‘We’re fine thanks.’ Alice’s words were sharp and she took a step closer, putting herself between Mitch and me. ‘I’m showing her where to go.’

Mitch laughed. ‘At least you’re not telling her where to go. I know how much you like doing that!’

Alice looked majorly pissed off. ‘We’re late. See you at practice after school, yeah?’

He turned and looked her squarely in the eyes, giving her a Hollywood smile. Suddenly her face softened. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘See you both later.’

I looked back to see him wave as we walked away.

Alice opened the doors to the English department and we walked into a central area off which classrooms radiated like spokes on a wheel. The grey concertina doors to each room were drawn shut, but I heard the low drone of teachers’ voices as we ed by.

‘That’s our class there, but come with me.’ She led the way across the back verandah to a small building detached from the rest, its door marked Female Students.

She pushed the door open to the smell of stale cigarette smoke mingled with the harshness of bleach. Resting her bag against the white basin she pulled out a

packet of cigarettes and a tiny lighter.

‘We’re late anyway,’ she said through lips clenched around the yellow filter. In the silence I heard the tobacco sizzle as she sucked in a huge lungful. ‘You keep near the door, in case anyone comes.’ She nodded her head towards the door. I didn’t want to be her lookout; none of the girls I’d hung out with smoked. If you got caught at my old school, you’d get suspended. How bad would that be? My parents would both drop dead if they were called to the principal’s office. Alice offered me the cigarette. ‘Want a drag?’

I shook my head. It stank and the room was filling up with smoke. I knew it was getting in my hair. I just wanted to go to class, not be stuck in the girls’ loo with Alice, who was turning out to be unpredictable.

‘Mitch is really hot,’ she said, looking at me stonily. I watched the way her lips narrowed as she sucked on the cigarette. ‘He split up with his girlfriend over the holidays, so now he’s available.’ She was watching herself in the mirror as she spoke. ‘We hooked up at a party at Ranga’s on New Year’s Eve, but he’s not ready to commit.’

She put her cigarette out in the basin, it hissed softly and then she flicked the butt into the toilet. She sprayed herself with deodorant and squirted a shot of toothpaste into her mouth. She used her tongue to coat her teeth with it, then swirled water in her mouth and spat it in the sink. ‘But soon he will.’

She winked at me in the mirror as she put her things back in her bag. She was as obvious as a male dog marking territory, from her phoney act of being happy and laughing with me to her pretend fall. She was so transparent I felt embarrassed for her.

‘I’m not interested in Mitch,’ I said, though I had thought he was pretty hot. I really wanted to get to class. I knew this would make a bad impression. Mum and Dad harp on about lateness like it’s a capital offence. Alice visibly stiffened and sneered at me.

‘I’m not worried about you,’ she said, like I was a cockroach that had just run over her shoe. ‘I was just being friendly.’ She ground her heel on the cockroach and pushed past me to class.

All the students were sitting quietly, heads bowed over their workbooks, pens moving quickly over the lined pages as Alice pushed the door open.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ she said to Mr Smith, a large, sweaty teacher with several strands combed over his shiny head. He was perched on the edge of his desk like Humpty Dumpty. ‘I found the new girl wandering around lost, and brought her here to class.’ She gave me one of her deadly sweet smiles. ‘Isn’t that right, Avalon?’

I didn’t want to agree with her, and I certainly didn’t want to start my first day by lying to my English teacher, but Alice had hidden dangers lurking beneath the surface of her pretty face. She was obviously the kind of girl you didn’t want to piss off. Everybody had stopped working and was watching us.

‘Yeah,’ I mumbled guiltily.

‘Okay,’ Mr Smith said, ‘seating arrangement’s in alphabetical order, so that’s you

there Alice and you there.’ He pointed to a vacant chair next to a girl with long brown hair, who was so skinny she looked like she’d snap in two. I was relieved not to be next to Alice for the next forty minutes. As I walked past Mr Smith his smile shrank from a half ellipse to a hyphen. His eyes narrowed slightly and I watched his nose twitch, sampling the air around him.

‘Avalon,’ he said really sternly. I felt myself blushing. ‘I loathe lateness, you must get to class on time.’

‘Yes sir.’ I sank into my seat mortified. The way he shook his head at me before he walked off, I knew he thought I’d been smoking. I stank of it. I was staring at the board, trying to figure out what we were supposed to be doing and ignoring the people looking my way. I’d never felt so heavily observed before, or so selfconscious. The skinny girl next to me leaned over and said, ‘My name’s Sukey.’

‘Hi,’ I whispered, smiling at her, ‘as in Polly put the kettle on?’

She rolled her eyes in disgust. They were a little too far apart, giving her a slightly vague look. She had a narrow, clear-skinned face with a nose that was a bit too large. Her front teeth almost crossed each other. Her arms were thin and pointy bones, with large knobbly hands at the ends. She reminded me of a cartoon character. ‘Sukey take it off again. Yeah I’ve been listening to that nursery rhyme all my life, thanks Mum. What’s your name?’

‘Avalon,’ I said opening my workbook. Before she could comment I added, ‘as in King Arthur.’

‘At least it’s a pretty name. Why do parents have to be so different?’ she

complained, shaking her head.

‘Could be worse,’ I said. ‘You could be called Fatima.’ She nodded her head smiling.

‘Or Eunice,’ she countered, her voice a little louder.

‘Or Titsiana,’ I said and we both laughed loudly. I really had known a girl called Titsiana. We called her Tits for short and the funny part was she really did have a massive pair of boobs. Sukey was cracking up. She had a loud tinkling laugh that reminded me of Ruby’s Dorothy the Dinosaur from the Wiggles. The next minute Mr Smith was standing in front of us, blocking out the sun.

‘Girls, if you don’t quieten down I’ll have to move you.’ He looked at me quite angrily. ‘Not a good start Miss Maloney.’

He shook his head and tutted loudly. I bit my lip, swallowing my laughter and looked over at Sukey. Her head was down and she was working quickly. I picked my pen up, dismayed he had the wrong impression of me.

After about fifteen minutes Mr Smith made us get into pairs for a speaking and listening activity. We had to tell our partner about our lives, interests and ambitions, which they would then have to relay to the rest of the class. Around me people moaned and sighed. I looked at Sukey who wrinkled her lip in disgust. Back home public speaking never fazed me, but I was feeling ultra selfconscious today, and nothing could be worse than having to get up and talk in front of everyone.

‘I hate this stuff,’ Sukey whispered as Mr Smith set the timer. ‘I’ve got no interests or ambitions. My life’s pretty boring.’

I looked at her desperately — standing in front of the class with nothing to say at all would be worse. So I told her about the sports I played, and mentioned Ruby and my parents, hoping she would jump in and tell me something. But she sat silently.

‘Your turn,’ I encouraged. She shook her head.

‘What to tell? I’m an only child, Dad lives I dunno where, I never see him,’ she shrugged apathetically. ‘I don’t play sport, I don’t have any hobbies, I don’t do shit.’

‘But there must be something you like doing.’ I couldn’t believe that someone wouldn’t have a single interest. ‘Anything?’ I almost pleaded.

She shook her head, studied her fingernails silently and then said softly, ‘Oh, I guess listening to music. I’m pretty good at finding free s. Actually I’ve got a massive music collection.’

I seized onto her offering immediately. ‘Really, what are you into?’

Straightaway she became animated and started talking louder. She liked some of the bands I did, but was really into some heavy death metal stuff. Frankly, I

didn’t get that screamo music, but I nodded enthusiastically, grateful I had something to tell the class.

As it turned out I needn’t have worried. When Sukey stood up to talk about me no-one seemed to pay any attention; they just studied their desks and fiddled with pens. And before it got to me, the siren sounded.

‘All right, pack up,’ Mr Smith said. ‘We might finish this activity next period.’ Several students groaned but I knew we wouldn’t be doing it next lesson. I’ve grown up with teachers and I know a time-filler when I see one.

‘I’ve got Science next; what have you got?’ Sukey asked.

I pulled my timetable out of my bag and tried to decipher it. ‘Maths,’ I said eventually.

‘You must be in all the top classes,’ she said, nodding her head in approval. Alice sauntered over, her bag hanging by one strap from her shoulder.

‘Right, I’ve got Maths, it’s the top Year Ten class with Cartwright — we’re starting Calculus this year, which is actually a Year Eleven subject.’ She looked down patronisingly. ‘Are you off to Science with Sook?’

‘No, I’ve got Maths too,’ I said apologetically. I watched Alice’s eyes narrow and the edge of her nostrils go white. She squinted at me hard, making me nervous.

‘Well then,’ she smiled, ‘let’s go together.’ She grabbed my elbow again, this time a little harder, and pushed me to the door.

Maths is pretty easy for me. Mum’s given me a lot of help at home and I was always at the top of the class. Mum can’t help being a teacher — all the time. Sometimes when I just want to chill on the couch Mum would be pushing me to learn something new. She’s right into explaining why things work. ‘When you understand the mechanics, you can work out any problem,’ she reckons.

Anyway I knew not to show off. I was feeling very uneasy about Alice and we hadn’t even made it to recess. When we got to the classroom Alice’s friend was leaning against the wall, books folded against her chest.

‘Hi,’ she said, but she wasn’t looking at me, just Alice.

‘Julie, this is Avalon,’ Alice said, not looking at me either.

‘Hi,’ Julie said flatly. I smiled at her, but the greeting froze on my lips. She was staring at me with such a mean look my smile withered and I only managed to force a nod.

‘I’ve got us a spot near the front,’ she said to Alice.

‘Good,’ said Alice, walking into the room.

The desks were all in pairs. I watched Alice and Julie take the two seats next to the window. Around them everyone was chatting and Alice and Julie ed in straight away. The girls in particular seemed to want their attention. There was a spare seat behind them but I couldn’t bring myself to go there. I stood in the doorway biting my lip until I saw a seat near the back of the room. I slid into it, opened my workbook and waited for the teacher.

I tried to concentrate on the maths, and stop thinking about everything. Mum reckons I’m a worrier, always considering all the possible outcomes of everything. She reckons I give myself too much of a hard time, stressing about being the best and getting things perfect. I’m not sure if she’s right. But I don’t like to do things badly, and I do want people to like me. I shook my head, I was doing it again. Stressing out. I tried to forget it all, switch my mind off and do the sums.

It was a hot day and the airconditioning was humming over the scratching of pencils. Someone coughed and someone else was tapping their pencil against the edge of the desk, as if deep in thought. I finished and looked around. Everyone was still working and the teacher was at the front of the class helping some girl. I slid my novel out of my bag. I was reading The Catcher in the Rye, a must-read my dad reckons. He said I was lucky not to have been born a boy, otherwise I’d be called Holden — which he reckons would confuse people, and was the reason I wasn’t named Portia, from The Merchant of Venice. ‘We couldn’t have everyone asking why you were named after a car,’ he says.

Mr Cartwright was now walking around the class, looking over shoulders and stopping to help people. I was holding my book slightly under the desk, so it was out of sight. Suddenly I felt him behind me. He leaned down near my ear.

‘Miss Maloney,’ he whispered loudly, his stale breath hovering around my

nostrils, ‘this is Mathematics, not English.’

‘I’ve finished sir,’ I said quietly, not looking up. But I might have been Oliver Twist asking for more food from his reaction.

‘Finished!’ he exclaimed loudly, exhaling his malodorous coffee and cigarette breath over me. ‘Finished!’

He straightened up and snatched my workbook off the desk. Everyone turned to stare. I felt about the size of a flea. My face was burning hotly and I slid slightly down in my seat. Alice and Julie were smirking. He read through my answers and his look of smug derision slowly changed to sheepish embarrassment.

‘Ah, good effort, Miss Maloney,’ he said as he put my book back down on the desk, patting it like it was a small furry animal. ‘You’ve worked very well. Sit quietly and read a book until the siren goes.’ He nodded his head at me, like he’d thought of it himself, and walked off. I looked up as Alice was turning back to face the front. But I saw the sneer on her face as she looked away from me. I went and sat outside the gym at recess. Phys Ed was my next class and I didn’t know where else to go. Alice had walked quickly out of Maths when the siren sounded. Everything about her body language indicated it would be better if I didn’t tag along. She was sending clear signals of dislike.

I was sitting on the cold concrete watching other people. A group of girls were talking, leaning into each other and laughing. They looked so comfortable I suddenly felt homesick. I missed my old school and friends so much I almost choked on my raw carrot sticks. Mum insists on making my lunches and they’re always full of health food. I wasn’t making it up when I told Mitch my parents are different. They’re both ex-hippies. They met in a kibbutz in Israel when they were both new graduates, travelling the world. Fell madly in love, according to

Mum, and wanted to settle on a farm making pottery and selling organic vegies. Which is what they did for a while, but eventually both went back into teaching.

Engrossed in my sudden loneliness and raw vegetables, I didn’t notice when Sukey walked by. She stopped, her bony silhouette framed by the sunlight.

‘Hi,’ she said. I smiled up at her, knowing what a pathetic, no-mate I looked like. The new girl, with no friends, sitting on her own.

‘Hi,’ I returned gratefully.

‘Why don’t you come and my group?’ she asked, shrugging her shoulders as if I’d already said no. ‘We sit over on the netball courts.’

‘Okay.’ I picked up my bag and followed her, sudden relief enveloping me.

She led me to the courts, which overlooked the oval. The oval was scattered with distinct groups of students. Several groups of guys mucked around with a footy, but most of the girls sat in circles, talking and watching everyone else, shouting and laughing at each other. There was only one group on the netball courts; they sat in the far corner and watched us approach, caged behind the wire mesh fencing. I clutched at the strap of my school bag as we neared them, a step behind Sukey. Her group of friends was mismatched and odd looking.

‘This is Avalon,’ Sukey said. They were all looking up at me and smiling. All except for this overweight girl, with seriously bad skin and short, spiky hair. She

looked like she had something shoved up her bum. She made me feel nervous, the way she looked at me, like she already didn’t like me.

‘Hi,’ I said, hoping I didn’t sound like a desperado.

‘That’s Tamara,’ Sukey said pointing to the fat girl, who nodded and kept eating her sandwich. ‘And that’s Jemima and this is Marshall.’

Jemima was a tiny white-faced girl with pink rosy cheeks. She had long dark plaits and a strong resemblance to the doll from Playschool. She nodded and smiled and then dropped her eyes immediately. She was nibbling at an apple like a little mouse. Nibble, nibble, furtive glance, nibble again. Marshall was blond, shortish and wiry, but well built and he had a perfectly symmetrical handsome face. I thought he was pretty hot.

‘Welcome to our little group,’ he said, waving his hand elaborately as I sat down next to him and opened my bag.

‘You might not want to stay with us though,’ rumbled Tamara suddenly, shifting her weight against the bitumen. ‘You’ll be labelled as one of the Weirdos and Queeros.’

‘Oh ignore her,’ Marshall waved his hand in her direction, not taking his eyes off me. ‘We don’t care what the Bitches think.’

‘The Bitches?’ I asked through a mouthful of zucchini strips.

‘Your tour guide,’ Sukey explained. ‘Her group believe they are the A Group, the most desirable and popular group in the school. Note the identical haircuts and subtle make-up.’ She rolled her eyes in disgust. ‘Personally I think they’re a pack of chain-smoking bitches.’

‘Not to mention two-faced sluts,’ offered Jemima softly. Marshall clapped his hands in obvious delight.

‘Well done Jemima, that’s the spirit. Now tell us what you really think of them.’

‘I’d never say it to them,’ Jemima looked horrified and seemed to shrink at the attention.

‘C’mon Jem, what we say here is sacred. It doesn’t go beyond these fences,’ Marshall reassured her. I was listening to their conversation without speaking, unsure as to what I should or shouldn’t say.

‘Look Sook,’ Marshall pointed to the oval, ‘the footy team’s playing at lunch today.’

I looked across to where several tall men were walking around pointing to different parts of the ground.

‘That’s the footy team?’ I blurted loudly, and then felt myself blush as they all stared at me. I sounded like a country hick. You know the type — they walk

around like tourists pointing at stuff going, wow, that’s amazing. ‘They look about thirty years old,’ I added more quietly.

‘Our footy team is home to the real men,’ offered Marshall, rescuing me from my embarrassment. ‘The ones with all the extra testosterone. Sook look, there’s Jeremy.’

He was pointing at the boy I’d seen earlier with Mitch. Jeremy was jogging around the boundary of the field. I hadn’t noticed before how good-looking he was. Where Mitch was tall with dark hair and eyes, Jeremy was fair haired and blue eyed and he had a fantastic body. As he jogged past our group the muscles in his legs rippled and sweat glistened on his skin and he smiled. Was everyone at this school perfect? Marshall nudged Sukey.

‘Sooks, he just smiled at you,’ he said giggling.

‘No, he didn’t,’ said Tamara, ‘he was smiling at her.’ She nodded her head towards me. I watched the excitement freeze on Sukey’s face. Oh God, not again!

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Sukey’s voice was heavy with disappointment and the corner of her mouth twitched. ‘As if he’d even look at me. He was smiling at Avalon.’

‘No he wasn’t,’ I jumped in quickly, shaking my head. I didn’t want Sukey to think Jeremy fancied me, or that I even wanted him to. ‘It was you he was smiling at.’ But instead it sounded like I was playing coy. She looked at me with a sad mouth and changed the subject. I sat anxiously listening to them talk, too

upset to say anything more. When the siren went at the end of recess I stood up with the others and followed them off the courts.

‘See you later,’ Marshall called, taking off quickly.

Everyone murmured farewells and we all went off in different directions.

Wing Defence

The girls’ change room was a free-standing building near the netball courts. It was long and rectangular, lined with timber-slatted benches, above which were evenly spaced coat hooks. Down the far end was a row of showers with lockable doors, and through another doorway was a room of toilets. I’d chosen a space not far from the showers, near the corner, far enough away from the others to preserve my modesty. Back home we changed in the toilets, behind closed doors. But I didn’t want to do that here — at least I didn’t want to look like I was embarrassed.

I quickly stripped off my shirt and pulled on my sports top. When it was covering my bum, I slid my skirt down and wrapped my pleated skirt around me. Other girls walked around in their bras, laughing and talking, and I noticed Alice, surrounded by a group of her friends. She hadn’t said anything to me when I walked in, but I was pretty sure they were all talking about me, the way they whispered and looked my way. Alice was sitting on a bench in her sports skirt and light blue bra, brushing her hair while her friends stood around iring her. I pegged my shirt over a coat hook and noticed hers was swinging neatly on a coat hanger. On the bench underneath she’d folded her skirt up perfectly and below that, on the floor, she’d placed her shoes neatly side by side. I shoved the rest of my gear in my bag and, looking at the floor, made my way past them. As the door shut behind me I was sure I heard one of Alice’s friends say, ‘She looks completely up herself.’

It really worried me. I wasn’t sure what reason anyone would have not to like me. I hadn’t done anything wrong — though it felt like everything I did was wrong. Why don’t they like me? I told myself to not be so paranoid.

Miss Fisher blew the whistle and called us over. It was quite warm and we stood

on the bitumen of the netball courts in a line in front of her. A few of the girls stood hands on hips, looking completely uninterested in playing sport. I noticed Alice making eye with the teacher and smiling in a teacher’s pet kind of way.

‘Alice and Courtney pick your teams,’ Miss Fisher said and the two of them went to stand next to her. Back home, if I wasn’t selected to pick the team, I was always picked first. I’m not Olympic stuff, but I’m not bad at most sports and I’ve had a lot of practice shooting hoops. Let’s face it, in the country you either play sport and stay fit, or watch DVDs, play computer games and get fat.

With great superiority, the two of them surveyed us like we were this season’s lamb, their eyes quickly skimming over us as they assessed our potential.

‘Julie,’ Alice said, smiling obviously. Julie proprietarily walked over to Alice. It was no great surprise to anyone, even me, who’d been in the school for all of five minutes. Julie was her best friend. Then Courtney made her first choice, and on it went until all the girls were on the other side of the court except me and a small, pasty looking girl. Phys Ed lesson number one: complete humiliation.

‘I’ll have …’ Alice paused, deliberating between me and the other girl, ‘Avalon then.’

And I wasn’t being paranoid when I saw the face Julie pulled at her.

‘Well I’ll have Spaz,’ Courtney sighed, and the girl called Spaz shuffled towards her team like she was going to a funeral.

We stood in a circle around Alice so she could hand out the bibs.

‘What position do you play?’ she asked me.

‘Anywhere,’ I said. I didn’t want to look pushy.

‘Well, I don’t know what you’re good at — what would you like to play?’ she asked, sounding irritated.

‘Oh, goal attack,’ I said, then, as her face transformed into a sneer, I quickly added, ‘shooter, centre, whatever.’

‘I’m the goal attack,’ Alice said, pulling on the bib. ‘And those other positions are taken. You can be the wing defence.’ She threw the bib at me and ran down to the far goal, the other girls following.

I might as well have sat on the bench. No-one ed me the ball. In fact the only time I touched it was when it went off court and I ran and chased it. Even if I was out first for the centre , Julie would look for Alice. Alice was really good, fast and a quick interceptor, and her goal accuracy was almost perfect.

By half time I didn’t even try and jump off the line. It just made me feel stupid, running forward, hands outstretched and calling for the ball while Julie waited for Alice to take the centre . So when the whistle blew I stood on the line as the attack ran out. This time, of course, Julie looked over her shoulder at me and

threw the ball. It hit me so hard in the chest I stepped backwards, slightly winded. Miss Fisher blew the whistle.

‘Not in the centre third,’ she snapped. I looked at my feet and both of them were still behind the line. Courtney snatched the ball out of my hands and Julie looked at me shaking her head.

‘Nice one,’ she scorned.

No-one spoke to me as we walked back to the change rooms. I took my towel and soap into the shower and locked the door. My hands were shaking and I felt like crying. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I wished I was home. I turned the water off and I heard them talking, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. I’d left my uniform out there. I didn’t want to walk out with a towel around me so I sat on the tiny wooden bench in the shower stall, aware I was making my knickers wet, and tried to listen to their conversation. But there was too much other noise, though I was sure I heard my name. I didn’t want to come out and face any of them.

Then I heard the siren go for lunch and the sound of bags being picked up and voices getting softer as everyone left the change rooms. I wanted to stay in the shower cubicle for the rest of the day. When it was quiet I came out. The room smelled of different deodorants and my shirt was sitting in a small puddle on the floor. I grimaced as I put it on, the wet patch sticking to my back. Over the school crest was the faint outline of a shoe print. My bag wasn’t where I’d left it either. I found it in one of the toilets, its contents scattered across the floor and a sanitary bin upended on it. After I’d gathered all my gear up I opened the outside door. But I didn’t know where to go.

Hesitantly I made my way down to the netball courts, hoping Sukey and her

friends would still want me to them. Marshall saw me coming and jumped up quickly.

‘Darling,’ he cried, deliberately camping it up, ‘I hoped you’d come back.’

‘Thanks,’ I said gratefully, sitting down to eat my lunch, even though I wasn’t hungry.

The whole lunch break Marshall filled me in on the who’s who, while the girls volunteered little bits of detail here and there. I kept trying to make eye with Tamara, who still wasn’t being very friendly.

‘Alice and the Bitches rule the school,’ Marshall said. ‘She’s always the first to offer to show a new kid around so she can decide if they are A Group or not.’

‘I guess I’m a reject,’ I said, and laughed, even though it really hurt. I learned that if you were rejected, like I was, your options were B Group, a relatively friendly bunch, invited to most of the parties and considered cool, or C Group, which included the freaks or retards — the study geeks and computer nerds. Below these were the misfit groups.

‘We’re like Z Group,’ Marshall laughed. ‘The boy population isn’t divided like the girls; you’re either popular or a geek. As I’m neither I prefer to sit with the girls.’

I figured it was because he was gay. Back home I’d never met a gay guy, it was

really bizarre. Marshall was really interesting and so cute — what a waste! I couldn’t stop thinking: you like guys!

‘You want to watch that prissy bitch,’ said Tamara. ‘Alice is a whole pile of trouble.’

‘Why?’ I asked, trying to prolong a conversation with her. This was the first time she’d really addressed me.

‘Get on the wrong side of her and you’re dead.’ Tamara held my gaze with her narrow little eyes and I wondered who was more trouble: her or Alice.

‘Anyway,’ Sukey said, rescuing me by changing the subject, ‘tell us about your last school.’

For the rest of the break I filled them in on the completely different culture of the country. As I spoke about it I realised how much I missed the wide open spaces, the yellow, often dry, landscape; the way everyone in town knows everyone else’s business; the feeling of identity when everyone you knows you by name or stops to say hello and fill you in on the latest.

‘We lived in the town centre — if you could call it that. Basically one long street and one main intersection, no traffic lights.’ I spooned some hummus onto a dry cracker. ‘Mum and Dad both taught at the high school. Actually, there was only one school, pre-primary to Year Twelve.’

‘That must have been weird, going to school with your mum and dad,’ Jemima said.

‘Yeah it was,’ I said, thinking about how we’d all walk out the door in the morning at the same time and then return in the afternoon at the same time. ‘You didn’t want to piss any teachers off. Or they’d have your parents stopping by the next class. For a chat.’

As I said it I realised I’d never seen how restrictive it had all been. But God, it had. They’d have made sure I had a tag team of suitable friends lined up to show me around the school if they worked here. They would’ve known in a flash if I had the slightest problem, and then set about, in their way, rectifying it. I told them about the pottery making and veggie growing. How Dad didn’t want to come back to the city, but Mum had really made us, for the money and the opportunities.

‘Are they still hippies?’ Jemima asked.

‘Dad, definitely,’ I said picking at my alfalfa sprouts. ‘He’ll always be that way, from his appearance to his politics. His whole life’s centred on feelings and family unity.’ I felt a bit embarrassed talking about Dad like that. Though I’d always known he was different from other dads, he never seemed as strange as he did now. I was used to his tie-dyed clothing and long greying ponytail and he’d always seemed pretty cool to me. I tried to make my family sound less weird. ‘But Mum, not at all. Having kids made her want money and to live in a place where we could all have a real life.’ I smiled and shrugged, trying to convey how stupid I thought my parents were.

‘Did you have a boyfriend?’ Sukey asked. I thought about Jake; he was like my brother, we did everything together, I trusted him with anything. But a boyfriend

— no way! He was always going to be a farmer’s son and though I loved my home I always knew I wouldn’t stay in the country forever. I didn’t want a future of hard leather faces, tractor driving and sheep shearing. But I didn’t want them all to think I was this backwater chick who hadn’t had a life — and every time I spoke about my home and family that’s exactly how I felt. Little Miss Nobody, done nothing, seen nothing.

‘Not really,’ I tried to sound ambiguous. ‘There was this one guy, Jake, who, well, you know.’ I watched Sukey and Jemima swap glances. So I tried to play it up a bit, without actually lying. ‘We’d go to school socials and stuff together. You know. He would’ve been my Ball partner next year. If I’d stayed.’

‘What’s he look like?’ Jemima asked.

‘Tall,’ I said, even though he was only a centimetre taller than me, ‘good body, well, he is captain of the boys’ hockey team.’ I laughed in what I thought was a knowing way. I wanted them to think I was more experienced than I was. Marshall was staring off over the football field.

‘Sounds like you love him,’ Jemima said.

‘No way,’ I exclaimed too loudly, ‘he was a convenient partner.’ Sorry Jake. The siren went and I started picking up my books. When I looked back up Jemima was watching me.

‘What?’ I asked nervously, frightened I’d said too much again and looked like an up-myself bitch.

‘Nothing,’ she said dismissively.

Hockey Tryouts

The school was quiet and full of echoes, like a ghost town. It had a deserted feeling now all the thousand and more people had taken their noise and energy, ideas and emotions beyond the boundary and home for the night. I stood on the oval, looking across the green expanse feeling awkward and out of place again. The hockey tryouts were on and I had planned to get a place on the team. But now I wasn’t so sure. When I saw Alice and her friends turn up I felt like leaving straight away. I was sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to give anyone any more ammo to use against me.

I crouched down to tie up my shoelaces and became aware of a body standing behind me. It was so close I could feel the heat from it. It wasn’t touching me, but the owner of the body wanted me to know how easily they could have put a knee in my back.

‘Trying out for the team?’ the voice sneered and I turned to look. The sun was right behind her head, so her face was dark. But I knew by the way her hair sat perfectly that it was Julie.

‘Yeah,’ I said and was embarrassed to hear a waver in my voice.

‘Well, our team’s really good. And Alice is the captain. So if you know what’s good for you, you might want to leave now.’

I looked past her shoulder to Alice, casual and confident, the only one in sports gear. Her friends were standing around her, there for moral , shooting

daggers my way. I did want to leave now. That was exactly what I was thinking. This was one scary chick and I was frightened. I’d never been in a punch-up before. At home we were taught to fight with words not fists, so I’d never found myself in a position where someone wanted to smack my head in. But I could see if I wasn’t careful that was exactly what Julie would do.

Miss Fisher was blowing her whistle and getting everyone to line up. I ed the end of the line and stood slightly back from the others. There were about twenty girls and no-one even smiled my way. On the other side of the oval the boys were lining up for footy practice. They were jogging on the spot, shaking out their arms and legs. I saw Mitch and Jeremy together, looking over. Mitch waved and I pretended not to see him.

‘Anyone going for the position of captain come forward,’ Miss Fisher shouted. Alice didn’t hesitate. She stepped up, smiling like a winner. Her posse cheered.

‘Go Alice,’ they shouted. From the other side of the oval the boys were watching, maybe hoping for a face-off. No-one else stepped forward. The old me said, Go on Avalon, do it. But the new, frightened and intimidated me had control. There was absolutely no way I was taking Alice on.

Miss Fisher blew her whistle. ‘Right, that makes Alice captain for the second year in a row. Well done. I expect you to lead us to victory,’ she said, clapping her on the shoulder. ‘Let’s place the rest of the team.’

I was so nervous and nauseous, my heart wasn’t in it. I love hockey, it’s something I’m good at, but suddenly I didn’t feel it any more. I was too frightened of them to play my game. I didn’t want to tackle anyone for the ball, and I ran behind them uselessly, my hockey stick skimming over the blades of grass. If I was challenged for the ball I gave it up easily, letting the opponent

sweep it quickly from me with a flick of their stick.

After the tryouts we all had to fill in the team registration forms. Julie handed them out to everyone but deliberately ignored me and put the clipboard down next to the teacher. I had to walk past Alice’s group to get one for myself. The five of them were sprawled across the stands like they owned the world. I watched them out the corner of my eye as I filled in my form on the wooden bench, the grain from the timber making my writing wobbly. Julie and Alice sat on the bench above, smiling down on their loyal subjects. Courtney was pretty, maybe even as pretty as Alice, but she lacked the same strength of confidence that Alice exuded — she had her legs crossed and feet turned under neatly, like she’d just graduated from deportment class. Lisa was louder than the others, her voice kept drawing my attention, and Fiona, probably the plainest of them all, but still pretty, seemed to agree with everything Lisa said. I was busy observing all this, matching names to faces, as I filled in my name, address, email and phone number, when Miss Fisher came up to me, twirling her whistle in her hands.

‘I thought we were going to have a new secret weapon this year,’ she said. ‘I heard you were captain at your last school.’

I just shrugged my shoulders, and squinted against the sun.

‘Maybe the competition’s not so tough in the country,’ Alice said under her breath as she walked past me in a cloud of Impulse.

That night, as I lay in bed worrying about what the next day would bring, I realised I never expected it to be this hard. When Mum finally convinced me of the benefits of moving I’d gone along with her optimism. I thought she was right that there’d be wonderful opportunities, ones I wouldn’t have if we stayed in the

country. The idea of a real social life had been the decider. Kind of like what you saw on TV, like Gossip Girl, or even Neighbours, doing the stuff city kids did. Get a boyfriend, be the popular new girl, like the ones I read about in the books Dad called pulp fiction as he’d throw a Bronte or Winton novel my way.

I guess I always thought I’d fit in, even though I was nervous about it. But today had been horrible, unnerving; it was probably the worst day of my life. I’d felt so observed and assessed all day long. Alice and her friends had clearly decided I’d never belong to the A group. And as much as Sukey and her friends had been nice to me, I knew I was committing social suicide ing them.

Guiltily I thought about Bogie James, back in Grace Point. Bogie (her real name is Marie) was a small, quiet girl we’d all grown up with. Most of us had been to kindy together and started school as a big group. She wasn’t particularly smart, or stupid, she was just another kid in our class. But when we turned seven Bogie developed this really bad sinus problem, resulting in a constant snotty nose. She used tissues, the back of her hand, the hem of her t-shirt or sometimes she didn’t even know they were there. No-one wanted to sit next to her or play with her in case she got boogers on them. It didn’t take long for the nickname to stick. Bogie James. When she was eight her mum took her to a specialist who fixed whatever was causing the problem. But it was too late for Bogie.

She turned out quite pretty, in a Jennifer Lawrence kind of way, and in all the years after that I never saw her with even as much as a fleck in her nostril — she was meticulous about her nasal hygiene — but she still got called Bogie James. We all called her that, including me.

I know how these things work — a nickname sticks and so does a reputation. If I couldn’t be accepted by Alice, or even by the next group down, I’d be destined to be a misfit always. I didn’t want that. Sukey’s friends had been good to me but I didn’t want to be one of them.

That Day

I walked into home room trying to feel confident. All night I had tossed and turned, stressing out about going back to school. But when I got up I decided I had to start afresh. I had to go in there and hope I made some more friends. I figured if Alice or any of her group spoke to me I’d be nice. Not too nice, not in a try-hard way, but hopefully something would go right and they’d invite me to them. Or if not them, maybe someone else. I had to be positive.

I hadn’t realised Jemima was in my home room, she blended into the environment so well. She gave me a small wave as I stood uncertainly at the front of the class, not knowing where to sit. No-one else looked my way. I wasn’t ballsy enough to go up to Alice’s group so in the end I slid into the chair next to hers.

She was sending a text. She pressed the last button and dropped her phone into her bag.

‘Are we allowed to have phones in class?’ I asked. I’d read in the school rules yesterday, when I was a loner in home room, that phones were banned in classes. In my old school no-one used them in class because we were all together anyway, there didn’t seem much point.

‘Yeah, but they have to be turned off. If you’re caught in class, they’ll take it.’ She pulled hers out of her bag, showing me the screen. ‘The trick is to have it muted and on vibrate — people only text anyway.’

Ms McKenzie came in, smiling and greeting everyone. She quickly ticked off the roll, shaking her head at Caleb as he entered just after the siren. Then she made her way over to me and sat on the edge of the desk. ‘How was yesterday?’ she asked.

‘Fine,’ I said. I shot a look in Alice’s direction. I’d waited to catch her eye when she came into class, but I’d seen her look my way then deliberately ignore me.

‘Do you need someone to help you today?’ Miss Mac asked, following my gaze.

‘No, I’ll be fine,’ I muttered hastily. I didn’t want Miss Mac to force Alice or any of her friends into being my buddy. Jemima wasn’t in any of my classes, which was a bit of a relief. And even though it wasn’t what I really wanted, I figured it’d be best if I went on my own.

‘See you on the courts at recess,’ Jemima shouted as she walked away. I turned around, looking to see if anyone had heard.

‘Where you belong, with the Weirdos and Queeros,’ someone murmured in my ear as they ed by. I watched Alice and her friends walk away, swinging their hair and acting so cool. And as much as I knew they were being bitches, I wanted to be with them — not heading off to the misfits on the courts at break time.

Every classroom I approached with the same gut-twisting thoughts. Where will I sit? Who will I sit with? It was the greatest hurdle, trying to find a partner or make a friend. The work was easy enough, which was a relief as I couldn’t fully concentrate. I’ve always been an accelerated student, which is why they put me

up. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a child genius, but I get a lot of tutoring at home. Between them, my parents cover Humanities, Maths and Science. Mum and Dad will do practically anything to make sure I succeed. At my old school everyone expected me to know the answers, including the teachers. All the kids in my class knew I’d be the top student at the end of the year. But now it looked like it was going to work against me. I was sensing clear resentment from some of the students. It was like the hierarchy had been determined, everyone had a ranking, and I was coming in and challenging them. I didn’t want to challenge anyone. I just wanted to fit in. And so I found myself keeping pretty quiet and not volunteering information like I normally would.

In English we were doing Animal Farm. I was sitting next to Sukey.

‘We are going to look at why Orwell chose farm animals for his analogy. Has anyone read Animal Farm?’ Nobody put their hand up. I’d studied it last year in an advanced reading program, but I kept my mouth shut.

‘Right, I’ll hand out the books and I want you to discuss in pairs the title and blurb.’

I was glad Sukey was my partner, and felt myself relax as we both studied the cover.

‘I think he uses animals to make it easier for the reader,’ Sukey offered. ‘It looks like a kids’ book.’

‘Yes, he presents it on several different levels,’ I said authoritatively, drawing on my previous studies, ‘the fable, the satire and the allegory.’

She looked at me suspiciously, ‘Have you read this?’

I knew she thought I was showing off, and I guess I had been. But it was so automatic to come up with the right answer.

‘Kinda,’ I mumbled, feeling like a liar, the blush developing along my jaw line. ‘My dad teaches English; he has books like this lying around the house everywhere.’

‘But how do you know the stuff you just said?’ she interrogated.

I felt miserable. ‘They put me up a year and I had this teacher who was an Orwell freak, so we had to do Animal Farm.’

Sukey was looking at me like I’d stepped in dog poo. ‘You’re a year younger than us?’ Her nose wrinkled in disgust.

‘Yeah, I guess. I was fourteen two weeks ago.’ I felt about ten. I wanted my mummy. I wished I was at home. Everything I did or said pissed people off. Suddenly her whole attitude changed. I think she could see how close to crying I was.

‘Sorry Avalon, I don’t mean to come across like a bitch,’ she said softly, reaching over and touching my arm. ‘You’re just so full of surprises.’

Then we had to get into groups of four and combine our ideas. I sat holding my breath as Mr Smith made Sukey and me Alice and some guy called Todd. I sat quietly as Alice explained the points she and Todd had come up with. When she told us about the use of satire, I was pretty impressed. Alice is obviously no idiot.

‘So Avalon,’ she said nicely, ‘what did you guys find?’

I looked at Sukey, hoping she’d share our ideas but she stared down at the book. Alice was smiling at me, and she actually didn’t seem bitchy at all. None of her friends was in this class. Maybe she was going to give me another chance.

‘We looked at the imagery and the use of animals to stand for something else,’ I said, trying not to use fancy terminology.

‘Right,’ Alice was combining our ideas onto a sheet of butcher’s paper. ‘There’s a word for that, isn’t there? Oh what is it — analogy?’ She was squinting, thinking hard.

‘Allegory?’ I offered cautiously.

‘Yeah,’ she smiled at me, ‘that’s it. Good one Avalon.’ And for the first time in two days I actually felt good about something. I smiled back and looked at Sukey happily. But she was watching me from under her eyebrows, silently and strangely. She had turned into a turtle since we’d ed Alice and Todd, I could barely see her head poking over her shoulders. But now I was feeling pretty

relaxed. Comfortable for the first time and contributing confidently to our group discussion. Alice wasn’t being a cow at all, she nodded and smiled at the points I made, in fact she was so nice I thought maybe we would be friends.

I stood at the front of the class, our sheet of paper pinned behind me. I was nervous as hell and I hadn’t wanted to present. But Sukey had withdrawn so far she was virtually catatonic and Todd just flatly refused. So that left me and Alice, and Alice had kindly pointed out that she had written up the ideas, so it was only fair.

I started by explaining the use of satire but was almost immediately interrupted.

‘What’s that?’ a guy from the back asked, pointing to our chart. ‘Allergy? What’s that got to do with the book?’

‘Allegory,’ Alice said. ‘Can’t you read, Brent?’

‘I’m not asking you, I’m asking her,’ he pointed at me. ‘Go on, what’s it mean then?’

I opened my mouth, knowing my cheeks were flaming, and wiped my sweaty palms on the sides of my skirt. ‘It’s when a message is presented symbolically.’ My voice sounded tiny.

‘Who came up with that?’ he asked, shaking his head.

I looked to Alice, but she was now staring out the window. Sukey was the incredible shrinking woman and Todd rocked back on his chair watching.

‘Me,’ I said weakly.

Everyone stared at me, screwing up their faces and shaking their heads in disbelief. I was overwhelmed with embarrassment. In a second, things had gone from good to bad.

‘What do you do,’ Brent said, ‘read the dictionary or something?’

‘Or the encyclopaedia?’ a girl jeered.

‘You should be in Year Twelve,’ Todd said. I stood there biting my lip, not knowing what to say. Alice was watching me, unsmiling. Desperately, I looked to Sukey for moral but her head had almost vanished into her neck. Mr Smith jumped in.

‘That’s enough thank you,’ he glared at Brent, Todd and the girl who’d jeered. ‘I’ll see you three after class. Pack up.’

I went back to my desk, my hands shaking. I wished I could make myself invisible.

Going to each new class was like torture. Aside from home room with Jemima,

and English with Sukey, none of the Z Group was in any of my classes. And since Alice walked out of English without a word, I was feeling guilty for thinking I’d dump them for a better group. They were the only people even prepared to be nice to me.

I walked into Science alone making a quick scan of the room. Rows of tall benches and stools stood in straight lines and there was a distinct chemical smell in the air. On the benches around the edge of the room Bunsen burners were plugged into bayonets. Students were already sitting in pairs or threes. A few girls looked up as I walked in, books clutched to my chest, but there was no-one I knew at all. Thank God.

Mr Dyson came in; he had a slow monotone voice. ‘Today we’re doing test tube experiments and we’ll be pairing up.’

I looked around; people were already indicating to each other who they’d be with. It looked like an odd number — this time I’d really be left out. Science experiment number one: identify the loner. God, I hated this school!

‘Before you choose partners, for this term we’ll be working with Mr Tracy’s class.’ Dyson pulled back the concertina partition. In the second row sat Alice and Julie. I couldn’t believe it!

‘Find your partners and some lab space, then send one of the partners to collect the equipment from the storeroom.’

Everyone jumped up to pair up. But I stayed seated, drawing boxes on my Science book. If there was another reject, he or she could come to me. Otherwise

I’d work on my own. Who cared!

‘Wanna be my partner?’

I looked up to see Caleb. ‘Yeah,’ I said, nerves swirling in my stomach, ‘but don’t you have a partner already?’

‘Normally Mick, but we’re banned from doing experiments together. We caused a mercury explosion last year. Actually Tracy’s got me on probation in the lab. So I have to warn you, he’ll probably be watching us pretty closely.’

I laughed, Caleb was so easy-going it finally felt like someone was giving me a break.

It was the best lesson of the day. Caleb nearly caused another explosion — or at least the naphthalene flakes we were heating erupted and the thermometer got pretty hot. He had just asked me where I’d moved from and got really excited when I said Grace Point.

‘Man, that’s just outside of Margaret River,’ he shouted.

‘Yeah,’ I said, writing down our results on a chart in my workbook.

‘Man, that’s the best surf down there,’ he said iringly. ‘Those waves are sick.’ He looked over at some of the other surfers.

‘Hey, Avalon’s from Margarets,’ he said excitedly.

‘No way,’ one of them said, then the three of them came over.

‘Best place on earth, man. Can’t believe you’d leave that to come to this shit hole.’

They gathered round asking about home and did I surf? I said yes, even though I was crap at it, and kind of exaggerated how much surfing I did, and my ability. But these guys were being really nice and it felt good to have people interested in me. Then Mr Tracy came over.

‘Caleb,’ he shouted, ‘you’re boiling over.’

‘Yeah sir, sorry, but you know she’s from Margarets and that’s pretty cool,’ Caleb said.

‘I’m not talking about your voice Caleb,’ Mr Tracy pointed at our experiment. ‘Your test tube is boiling over. I think you’re about to break another thermometer.’

‘What?’ Caleb turned to look at the bench behind him. The solution had bubbled up like the head on a milkshake and was frothing over the side. The line of mercury in the thermometer was rising dangerously close to the top of its glass casing.

‘Shit,’ he said. Then he saw Mr Tracy glare at him, ‘Sorry sir,’ he said, apologising for swearing. ‘Shit Avalon, get an oven glove.’

Before Caleb managed to turn the Bunsen burner off naphthalene solution had splattered over the walls and windows and the shelves of clean beakers. Mr Tracy told us we’d have to stay back and clean up the mess.

‘What about the ceiling sir?’ Caleb asked, pointing to globs of solution hanging off the fluoros.

‘Leave that,’ Tracy said, really annoyed. ‘We’ll have to get contractors in. Again.’

The rest of the class packed up and left, most of them laughing at Caleb and me. But not in a mean way, if you know what I mean. Except Julie, who glared viciously at me. She grabbed hold of Alice’s arm and whispered in her ear as they walked out. Alice looked back and gave me the weirdest look, and I knew that any progress we’d made today had definitely gone. If I spoke to anyone who wasn’t a reject, I was pissing people off. So I wiped the tables down and listened to Caleb explain why learning how to mix chemicals could be a good career choice.

He was funny, and so nice to me, I just wished everyone at school could be like him. I didn’t go to the netball courts at lunchtime. By the time we’d finished cleaning it was almost time for the siren. I felt bad I’d missed them but figured I’d catch them the next day. And I hate to it it, I did still hope I might get a better offer.

In the car on the way home Dad quizzed me on the day’s events.

‘So what happened today?’ he asked, eyes fixed on the road. What a stupid question! I could have given him a lecture on the vagueness of such a question. Hundreds of things happened today, mostly hurtful and embarrassing, or uninteresting and dull, and so the only response is nothing. It’s the most infuriating question a parent can ask. What do they expect — an itemised ? I didn’t want to talk about how I was settling in, or not, depending on which time of the day you got me on. So I told him about Caleb trying to destroy the Science lab; it was the definite highlight of my day. Though I didn’t tell him about being kept in at lunchtime — he might have a mini meltdown.

‘Did you get on the hockey team?’ he asked.

Yesterday, after tryouts, when I’d been given a position as reserve, I’d told Dad we hadn’t been placed. I don’t usually lie to him, but I was feeling so fragile I knew if I told him I hadn’t made the team he’d try and find out why.

‘I got a position as reserve,’ I said happily, trying to make him think I was okay about it. He took his eyes off the road and stared at me.

‘Watch the road Dad,’ I shouted as we drifted across the white line. He sharply corrected and then said, ‘Why? You were the captain at home.’

‘I guess the competition’s tougher here,’ I said.

‘That’s disappointing.’ Dad looked over at me again.

‘Not really,’ I said. I was looking out the window, watching identical houses blur into one. ‘I think I might like to try different things up here anyway.’

At that moment my phone pinged. I rummaged through my messy files and papers and pulled it out from under them. The screen displayed a number I didn’t recognise.

I looked at it distrustfully, who would text me? For a fleeting second I considered Caleb, but how would he know my number? In fact who would? Dad was watching the road again. I held the phone cupped in my hand so he couldn’t see the screen. My stomach was painfully tight. I tried not to make my breathing too loud. Something was suss. I opened the new message.

you’ve got mail

It was like a warning sign, there was something horribly insidious about those words. At that exact moment I knew they indicated trouble. Something’s not right.

Blog Page

www.rublogging.com was a website that hosted hundreds and hundreds of people’s online journals. I had been led to an index of blog communities, and my school was listed as one. People logged on under a name, opened a journal and whenever they liked, wrote about their day, or gave their opinion on something, or wrote about anything they wanted to. Anybody could have their journal listed for free and everything was on there for the world to see. This hadn’t been big in the country, but from the number of s that came up I could see it was huge here. The six entries about me were under the Last Few Entries section.

Meet Avalon: she’s new, she’s smart and she’s completely up herself. I had to listen to her go on about herself and afterwards had to vomit violently in the toilet. The girl is a slut …(more)

posted by dragon girl | Post Comment [Tuesday, February 3rd, 3.31 pm]

Avalon encounter … — what’s up with that bitch? All she does is go on and on about how great the country is. Well you know what we say? Go back there slut … (read more …)

posted by hope, faith & charity | Post Comment [Tuesday, February 3rd, 3.42 pm]

Avalon in the hay …. — according to a reliable source she left a boy in the country with a big one, if you know what I mean … (more …)

posted by angel baby | Post Comment [Tuesday, February 3rd, 3.49 pm]

Avalon is a dirty slut … I hear she fucked the whole hockey team (more) ….

posted by dragon girl | Post Comment [Tuesday, February 3rd, 4.03 pm]

Avalon is a slut … and the swimming squad. Two guys in the shower. (read more) …

posted by good girl | Post Comment [Tuesday, February 3rd, 4.11 pm]

Lock up your men … — word is out, that filthy slut is after all the guys at school. Watch her closely she’ll take your man … (more)

posted by all out of love | Comment [Tuesday, February 3rd, 4.17 pm]

I sat in front of my laptop horrified as my eyes skimmed the postings, each one inviting me to read more. I didn’t want to read more. I felt assaulted. My eyes burned. Why were they doing this? A rush of acid came up my throat and I ran to the toilet. I sat there clutching at the porcelain bowl, my eyes flooded and cheeks stinging, a foul taste in my mouth.

‘Avalon.’ It was Dad. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah,’ I wiped my eyes with toilet tissue, staring at the gleaming white and blue tiles, trying to make my voice sound normal. ‘I’ve got an upset stomach, I think it was your falafel.’

I heard him laugh as he walked down the hallway. I always tell him that twoday-old falafel is a breeding ground for salmonella. I sat on the toilet with my head in my hands. What was I going to do?

I cautiously opened the door and peeked down the hallway. From downstairs I heard the sound of the TV and Dad shouting.

‘Lock in A, Eddie. It’s A, you twit. No, no, not D. Oh God!’

I stood in the hallway and looked at my bedroom door. The theme tune of Millionaire Hot Seat drifted up the stairs. I had to go back in there. Slowly I opened my bedroom door. My laptop sat on my desk in the corner, humming happily away. I sat in front of it and tapped to get rid of the screen saver. The ugly website appeared before me again. Looking at it was like staring at a flattened animal on the side of the road. It made me want to vomit again and cry. I didn’t know what I was looking for. I hit the Back button. On the menu there was something called Listing; I opened the page. I guess I was looking for Dragon Girl’s profile. She was the one who’d started it all. I knew it was Alice.

The list came up with Name and next to it Real Name. Dragon Girl’s real name was blank, of course. So were all the others who’d posted about me. I had to suspend my horror and go into detective mode. It seemed really important to figure out who these people were. If I knew who it was coming from I’d be able to defend myself. Maybe. As I scrolled through the list — and there were

about eight hundred s — some familiar names popped up. It was obviously frequently used by kids at my school. I found Alice’s profile and her name was Sugar & Spice, which I found ironic. Also listed were the rest of the Bitches — Julie, Fiona, Lisa and Courtney — all with their full names in their profiles. I opened Alice’s journal entry.

Tuesday 3 February, 3.55pm Pretty Hot and Tasty

Today, I had another totally awesome time! I’m sure beautiful M has the hots for me! At practice yesterday he picked up my sweat towel and used it to wipe his face. Then he drank out of my water bottle. So hot. Have been elected Hockey captain again, will work hard to see the team win this year

Subjects all same as usual. Teachers are the same boring lot. Nothing else to report. Oh yeah, new girl name Avalon, seems nice.

Catchya happy days.

Print | + Comments

Her other entries were pretty much the same. Apart from the fact that she sounded like a complete and utter idiot, there was nothing malicious or even interesting in them. Did anyone even read them?

I went back to the Last Few Entries page, my stomach a gigantic knot as I clicked on Dragon Girl’s entry. I knew I had to read more, as scary as the idea was. I fixed my stare on the little green squares at the bottom of the screen as the computer slowly ticked over, opening the page. This was so bad.

There it was, the whole sordid mess before me. It was a warning to other people not to waste their precious time getting caught in my boring and pretentious company. It was so nasty my body was shaking as I forced myself to read the full journal entries of the other anonymous s. It was like a shark feeding frenzy. Each entry was more obscene and pornographic, it was like each person was trying to outdo the previous one. If you believed what they said, I was the biggest, dirtiest slut to ever walk the planet.

I sat numbly at my desk. I was in shock. I’d never felt so hated before in my life. And God, I had to go back to school tomorrow. It was now dark outside. The only light in my room was the glow from my screen — until Dad opened the door and stuck his head in. I quickly clicked the minimise button.

‘Hey, it’s a bit dark in here,’ he said, flicking the light switch. The room was immediately bright and the sharpness of light hurt my sore eyes. I blinked rapidly, I didn’t want Dad to see my face. I didn’t want him asking questions.

‘Whatcha doing?’

‘Homework,’ I grumbled irritably without turning around.

‘All right,’ he sounded hurt, ‘don’t let your boring dad bother you.’ I heard the door click shut, and then I opened the page again. I didn’t know what I was looking for, I just couldn’t believe it was real. And I didn’t know what to do next.

I got up and walked to my dressing table.

‘That’s you they’re saying those things about,’ I said to my reflection, watching the tears filling her eyes.

‘Why?’ I asked her. ‘Why would they do this to me?’

What had I done to deserve it? I looked at myself in the mirror. Apart from bloodshot eyes, with red puffy bags under them, I was okay looking. I certainly wasn’t beautiful enough to be a threat to anyone, but I wasn’t hideous looking. Average height, about one hundred and sixty centimetres tall. Not overly fat or super skinny, just pretty average. I don’t have enormous boobs like some girls in my year, I’m lucky to fill a B cup. I’m only really just starting to get a figure. I do have nice hair though, thick and shiny — though if you wanted to be bitchy you could have said it was mouse brown. It has natural highlights — people always ask me what colour foils I put in it — and it’s a mix between wavy and straight and sits past my shoulders, so it’s never difficult to do.

I glanced back at my laptop. It had gone into screen saver mode, belying the horrors beneath. Back in the mirror I watched my reflection shake her head, I couldn’t face it again. So instead I studied my face for clues. It’s just oval shaped, with pretty clear skin. I occasionally get the odd pimple, which makes me want to stick a paper bag on my head. Dark chocolate brown eyes, ‘shoe button eyes,’ my dad says. Mum and Dad both think I am beautiful, but that’s part of their job isn’t it? They’re not very reliable judges. I think I’m pretty

average all round.

I sat back down on the edge of the bed and picked up Mr Tiddly. He’s a small brown bear I’ve had since I was about two. He was once so savagely attacked by a neighbour’s dog Mum could only repair one leg shorter than the other. Poor Mr Tiddly, both of us have an unnatural fear of dogs now.

‘Why are they doing this to me?’ I said into Mr Tiddly’s bristly synthetic hair. I wasn’t a threat. Certainly not to Alice and her mates who were the type of girls that looked like an experienced seventeen. The type who were allowed to go to parties and get drunk, and have boyfriends stay over. Compared to them I was pretty insignificant. So I just didn’t get it. Why?

Cyber Speed

I considered wagging school. Or at least chucking a sickie. And I was sick, right down to the bottom of my guts. I had been up nearly all night, I was exhausted. I think I dropped off to sleep at about four thirty in the morning. And I awoke the minute sun streamed into my room. I didn’t get out of bed until I heard Mum’s car pull out of the driveway, one less parent to face.

I don’t know why I got dressed for school. Pride, maybe? I argued with myself all morning about going. From the second I stepped into the shower I definitely wasn’t leaving the house. As I towelled my hair dry I forced myself to believe I was. But when I stared at my reflection in my uniform I shook my head. There was no way I could face them all. I had a small breakfast, a bowl of muesli I pushed around in the milk and then tipped into the sink.

‘Ready?’ Dad asked, grabbing a stack of books and heading out the door. I nodded and picked up my bag. This was the deciding moment, the point of no return. I had to try and put on a brave face. I knew it was the Bitches: if I didn’t turn up they’d think I was running scared. I had to go.

I was quiet in the car, and Dad was obviously preoccupied with the business of his own day. He pulled into a bay at the front of my school.

‘ I’ve got a meeting after school,’ he said as my hand slipped on the chrome door handle, ‘so you need to collect Ruby.’

I wiped my sweaty palm against the side of my skirt and nodded my head. I was

stepping out of the car, looking nervously around. Maybe I should go home now, before it was too late.

‘Hey,’ Dad called out to me. I turned back to look at him. He was frowning.

‘You all right? You’ve been really quiet.’

‘No Dad, I’m fine,’ I said, smiling through my anxiety. ‘Just trying to the way to home room.’

‘Yeah, I know what you mean, these metro schools are like rabbit warrens,’ he smiled and tooted as he drove off.

I walked across the school grounds slowly, feeling like a condemned prisoner. Marshall was sitting next to the school letterbox, swinging his legs. He jumped up the minute he saw me.

‘Hey,’ he put his arm around me, pulling me close, that one gesture indicating he’d seen the site. I felt the pain and hurt rush up. ‘It’s not so bad,’ he said.

‘Marshall, are you crazy?’ Those bloody tears were there again, but I didn’t want to cry. ‘It was hideous.’

‘Most of them will know it’s all bullshit,’ he said.

We walked side by side to my home room. Marshall kept making jokes and trying to cheer me up but I couldn’t really focus. I was aware of everyone around me. Was it you? Or you? Have you seen it? Do you know who I am? I’d never been so freaked out in my life.

At the doorway he gave me a tight hug before he left. I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t want to enter alone. I felt nauseous as I pushed the door open. I quickly scanned the room. Jemima, my only ally, wasn’t there yet. Shit! Alice was by the window in her usual huddle. I heard someone whisper, ‘She’s here.’ And then they all stopped talking and turned to stare at me. I was a prize bull on display; they were all sizing me up, looking down their noses in contempt. Alice sneered. I kept my eyes on the floor, trying to look like I wasn’t bothered and sat at the nearest empty desk. They were whispering, ‘Surprised she came … Do you reckon she’s really done it with that many guys?’ designed for me to hear. I pulled out my novel and started reading. Fiona walked in and ed by my chair really closely, making sure she jolted the back of it.

She leaned down and whispered, ‘Dirty slut.’

I didn’t look up, though I could feel my face heating. Pretend they’re not here. The next minute Jemima slid into the seat next to me.

‘How you doing?’ she asked kindly. I thought she looked pretty sick.

‘Fine,’ I said. My eyes filled with tears. ‘How did you find out?’

‘Text last night.’ She pulled her phone out and showed me.

go to blog and see what it says about new girl

‘Who’s it from?’ I asked softly, aware that nearly everyone was watching us.

She shook her head. ‘Dunno. But whoever it is, they’re texting everyone.’

I chewed my lip. This was going to be around the whole school in no time. I could leave now, walk out of class and go home. But what would that achieve? I’d have to come back eventually, and the messages would still fly plus I’d also be labelled a pussy.

Jemima walked with me to my next class. I was grateful she hadn’t abandoned me. At least with someone by my side I didn’t feel so vulnerable. I stood outside the art room watching the people go by, wondering who I’d know in this lesson, when a girl I’d never seen before came up to me.

‘Hey, aren’t you the new Year Ten girl?’ she asked. She was older looking than me. I figured she must be a Year Eleven or Twelve.

I nodded my head, rummaging through my bag for my pencils. I knew what was coming next.

‘Did you see the blog site?’ She said it like she was concerned, tipping her head

thoughtfully to one side.

I nodded again. I didn’t seem able to speak.

‘Pretty rough stuff,’ she said sympathetically. ‘Though if it’s true, man, you’re disgusting.’ And she shook her head disdainfully.

I watched her walk off, swinging her hips like she was so cool. And you’ve got a fat arse I wanted to scream at her. But I didn’t. I said nothing.

I sat in Art, on my own, drawing the cover for my Visual Diary. The Art department was open plan and split level. Our class was held on the middle level. I felt completely exposed — who was on the upper and lower levels and could they see me? I felt self-conscious and awkward in my attempts to look relaxed and unfazed. The desks were set up in a U-shape and Fiona and Lisa deliberately chose seats opposite mine. They watched my every move and made sure I was aware of what they were saying.

‘She’s such …’ and Lisa’s voice dropped so I couldn’t hear.

‘I know,’ Fiona said loudly, ‘what a filthy ho.’ And then they’d both stare at me, making faces, or get the girls nearby to in their bitchiness.

I felt like a prisoner surrounded by an execution squad. I tried not to look. I tried to do my work. I got up and had to walk past them to go to the paint trolley.

‘Gross,’ Lisa said. ‘Can you smell fish?’

Fiona laughed. ‘Disgusting. Oh foul.’

And they continued to laugh, the girls next to them ing in, as I squirted paint onto my palette, breathing deeply. Scared that I did smell.

When I sat back down at my desk one of them had written all over my Visual Diary. Underneath Avalon Maloney they’d scribbled ‘is a dirty ho.’ I picked up an eraser, they were watching me, and started rubbing it out. I tried to stop my lip from trembling. Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry. But they’d written it so heavily it had scarred the paper underneath. When I painted over it the words were still visible, like a white ghostly outline.

Before recess I’d been asked by about twenty people if I’d seen the site. People were talking about me whenever I entered a room or walked through the schoolyard. I couldn’t have been any more conspicuous if I’d worn a clown’s wig and red nose. I was humiliated and devastated. I wanted to curl up and die. Going to the netball courts was like a refuge. Here we were away from most of the action. When I arrived Sukey and Tamara got up to greet me.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Sukey said, lightly touching my arm.

‘They’re the pack of sluts,’ Tamara said.

I nodded as the tears welled in my eyes. Don’t cry. I felt terrible about how I’d

hoped for a better group of friends. Even Tamara, who’d seemed so unfriendly, now surprised me with her .

‘It can’t last forever,’ Tamara said, ‘either they’ll get bored and forget about it, or I’ll have to beat one of them so badly they’ll want to forget about it.’

‘I’m so embarrassed,’ I said looking into my lunchbox. Food had never seemed so unappealing. ‘I feel constantly watched, it’s like everyone’s judging me.’

‘Who’d give a shit what any of those bitches think?’ Tamara spat.

I nodded and Sukey and Jemima nodded too. But it was all bullshit. We did care.

‘Be tough, Avalon,’ Marshall said as the siren went. He put his arm around me again. ‘Sticks and stones may break your bones …’

‘But names will never hurt me,’ we both finished in unison and laughed together. Just then a boy walked up. ‘Hey, you the new girl?’ he shouted at me, leering like a pervert.

‘Ignore him,’ Marshall said, grabbing hold of my hand.

‘Hey new girl, I hear you want to get a promotion, like your mum, to giving Head.’ He was looking over his shoulder at me as he walked away, shoving his tongue hard into the side of his mouth so his cheek bulged.

‘Piss off,’ Tamara snarled, stepping forward menacingly.

‘Shut up fatso,’ the boy responded and then lost his footing and tripped face first into the dirt. We all cracked up. He so deserved it. He jumped up quickly, his face bright red. ‘Watch out you freakin’ weirdos, you’re all gonna die.’

‘Ohhh, we’re so scared of you,’ said Marshall.

‘Cock sucker,’ the boy spat before he was out of earshot.

‘Tamara,’ I laughed, the anxiety lifted for a second, ‘I think you made him fall over.’

‘Wish he’d broken his neck,’ she muttered hatefully.

We picked our bags up to go to class and I heard my phone. I looked at Marshall nervously. He shook his head.

‘Don’t do it,’ he said, putting out his hand to stop me.

But I was already pulling the phone out of my bag. Tamara, Sukey and Jemima stood paralysed, watching me. Marshall grabbed my hand, the one holding the phone.

‘Don’t read it Avalon,’ he warned. ‘Press delete.’

I shook my head. I couldn’t delete it unread.

FILTHY SLUT WATCH OUT

The words screamed at me from the screen. The sight of them hurt my ears. It was all I could hear. It was carried on the wind, it rustled through the leaves of the trees. Filthy slut, filthy slut, filthy slut, filthy slut. Finally I pressed delete. My friends were watching me. I looked up and the tears filled my eyes. When would this stop? I felt so stupid.

‘Hey don’t,’ Marshall said, putting his arms around me as I cried. But I couldn’t help it.

The day was like a slow, drawn out process of evil torture. I watched the clock, waiting for the black hands to sweep around and let me out of hell. In every class I sat alone if I could, or next to a reject. Like me. I didn’t talk. I tried to ignore Alice and the Bitches, who seemed to have at least one representative in every one of my classes. By home time I was exhausted and completely depressed.

Thank God Dad wasn’t picking me up. Both he and Mum had teacher meetings after school, so it was my job to collect Ruby from day care. I was glad. I knew I wouldn’t be able to face Dad without breaking down. He can tell in a second if something’s up and squeezes it out of you. He’s good like that, but I didn’t want to be subjected to his psychobabble. I knew I’d crack like a walnut if he got his

hands on me. As I neared the bus stop I saw several people in school uniform sitting in the shelter. Fiona and Lisa were among them. They wouldn’t hesitate to torment me all the way home. I turned back and walked to the park, up the street. I hid behind a tree and watched the bus pull in and the people board.

The next bus wasn’t for another twenty minutes, but I didn’t care. Anything was better than being on that bus with them. I sat down at the base of the huge gum tree and watched the footpath, praying no-one from school would see me. I was biting the skin around my nails.

When the next bus pulled in, it was just me and an old woman waiting. She was in front of me, struggling to pull her vinyl shopping trolley up the steps. I grabbed hold of the handle and impatiently lifted it up for her. I was going to be really late to Ruby’s day care if this fossilised old chip didn’t shake her butt.

‘Thank you dear,’ she said, smiling at me, oblivious to my impatience, ‘you’re very kind.’

I nodded my head, too embarrassed to speak.

‘We just phoned your father,’ the woman at day care said as I signed the at the front desk.

‘What?’ I said, alarmed. ‘Why?’

‘We were expecting you a while ago. You’re over half an hour late.’ She seemed

unimpressed with my rude voice.

‘Great,’ I said, grabbing Ruby’s hand and leading her out onto the street.

‘Wait here,’ I said, letting go of her hand. I had to ring Dad before he called the police and had me listed as a missing person. That’s what my dad’s like. Probably why he was so happy in the country. He’s got an abnormal fear of someone abducting me and Ruby, or just something bad happening to either of us. He answered his phone immediately.

‘Where are you?’ he whispered. He was still in a meeting.

‘At day care. Sorry Dad, I missed the bus.’ I looked over at Ruby who was swinging around a pole, a little too close to the road. I waved at her to come back to me. She shook her head and kept swinging.

‘I was really worried.’

‘I know Dad, that’s why I’m ringing.’ I glared at Ruby. Come here, I mouthed at her. She poked her tongue out at me and swung around the pole again.

‘You should have rung me when you missed the bus.’

Yeah, yeah, I thought. Here we go. Now Dad will draft up a list of rules I have to follow in case of emergency, a tsunami, a nuclear threat, an alien invasion. I

marched over to Ruby, who was pissing me off.

‘Come here,’ I growled softly, peeling her fingers off the pole.

‘Owwwww,’ she wailed.

‘What’s that?’ Dad said. ‘What’s wrong with Ruby?’

‘Nothing,’ I said, really fed up now. ‘She won’t do what I’m telling her.’

‘Be nice to her,’ Dad warned me. ‘I’ll be home by six.’

I hung up and exhaled a huge gust of air. Why was everything so hard? I grabbed Ruby’s hand.

‘Come on,’ I pulled her along, irritated.

‘Va Va,’ she said, which actually means Avalon, ‘me coming you house?’

I looked at her cute little face and her dropped lip and felt terrible. The stress and tension of the day was biting into my neck and making my shoulder freeze. I bent down to pick her up, my irritation evaporating instantly.

‘Of course you are Rubes. We’re going to me house.’

When we got home I made Ruby a Nutella sandwich and a glass of milk. Normally I would sit with her at the table while she slowly nibbled her way through it, but today I was impatient to be in my room. There wasn’t time for our usual stuff. Ruby climbed up on the wooden chair, kneeling so she could put her elbows on the table.

‘Samidch?’ she said.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I muttered, pushing it in front of her. I poured her milk so hastily it slopped down the side of the glass.

‘I’ve got a treat for you today,’ I said. ‘How about we sit in the lounge room, in front of the telly, and have our snack?’

Ruby squealed with delight and ran into the lounge. I was breaking one of Mum’s major rules — food and telly. But tough. I’d clean up before she got home and she’d never know.

‘Play Cool, Play Cool,’ Ruby screamed, jumping up and down on the couch.

‘Yeah Rubes, here,’ I flicked the telly on, shoved her food onto the coffee table in front of her and quickly went to leave.

‘Va Va, stay me?’ she asked, realising I was going.

‘Not now Rubes,’ I said over my shoulder as I headed up the stairs, ‘I’m busy.’

I sat in front of my laptop, hand hovering. Should I check out the website? What would it do to me to know what else was on there? Marshall had tried to keep me together all day. He was the rock. Ignore it, was his advice. Great advice to give, probably exactly what I would say to someone who was being attacked, but it was too hard to stick to it. Not a minute went by all day when I didn’t think of the awful lies people were spreading about me.

It was impossible to think about anything else. I felt so victimised by the constant harassment; it was frightening to consider how long this might go on for. I should ignore it, but I couldn’t. Like Dad says, ‘knowledge is power.’

I had to do it. I felt almost like I was punishing myself but I had to check out the website. There was always the faint possibility that there’d be nothing more there. That it had been an overnight thing, that’s all. I just had to know. I pulled down the URL from my address bar. I hesitated for another second — don’t do it — and left clicked. It opened on the home page. I quickly clicked through to Westerly’s blogring and scrolled down to Last Few Entries. The knife in my stomach twisted and there they were. Three new ones about me.

Avalon and the hippies … I hear the new girl, is from a hippie commune, where the families tell them to fuck anyone there … And there’s a guy in the country who she its she just used to fuck … (more) …

posted by dragon girl | Post Comment [Wednesday, February 4th, 3.33pm]

Avalon’s baby … speaking to a boy from the country apparently the slut had a baby last year, that she left with the hippies, which is why the family had to leave the country and come back to the city … (more)

posted by angel baby | Post Comment [Wednesday, February 4th, 3.52pm]

But wait there’s more … the reliable source tells us that before slut gave birth to daughter Ruby, she had two abortions … (more …)

posted by hope, faith & charity | Post Comment [Wednesday, February 4th, 4.03pm]

This would be ridiculous, almost laughable, except for the fact that it was about me and there were just enough elements about my life to make the stories plausible. Where were they getting their information from? Who was the reliable source? The boy from the country had to be made up surely? It couldn’t mean someone had ed Grace Point? Were these people really that hateful they’d go to such extremes to drag me through the mud? Why was this happening?

I unplugged my phone from its charger and New Message appeared on the screen. A number I didn’t recognise, of course. Shit! Did I have to look at this too? I opened the message.

your a slut

‘You bunch of cowards,’ I shouted at my phone. I wanted to throw it across the room, but stopped myself just in time. It was brand new, a present from Dad when I started at my new school.

I scrolled through my s for Jake’s number. My stomach was squeezing tightly again as it was ringing, and I was sure I would have diarrhoea. Then he answered.

‘Hello,’ it was practically sung, his voice dropped on the hell and rose on the o.

‘Jake,’ I said. I sounded croaky, while the sound of his voice was warm and familiar.

‘Avalon!’ Now he sounded excited. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Fine,’ I lied. ‘Miss me?’

‘Heaps.’ And I knew he meant it. I held back the sob that was threatening to burst. ‘Clarissa’s just not as good at hockey as you.’

‘Thanks.’ I was silent.

‘So everything okay?’ His voice had changed, he was picking up the vibe. He

knew something was up.

‘I guess I’m just homesick.’ I allowed my voice to break slightly; he’d understand.

‘C’mon, you knew it’d take a while to fit in, but think about all the new things you’re gonna do.’ He was really trying to encourage me. If only he knew the new things I was experiencing!

‘I guess I just wanted to hear your voice,’ I said.

‘You can always come back,’ he offered gently. ‘You know Ma and Pa would have you like a shot. We need another hand to muck out the horse stalls.’

‘Yeah, right,’ I said.

‘Look, I gotta go, last feed. I’ll call you next week, hey?’

‘Okay.’ I pressed End Call and sat looking at my phone. Jake had heard nothing from anyone here, I knew that.

About fifteen minutes before Mum was due I dashed down the stairs and tidied up the lounge room. Ruby had given it a full thrashing. There were cushions everywhere and crumbs all over the floor; bits of Lego and tiny plastic farm animals were shoved into every conceivable space.

‘Ruby,’ I snapped when I saw the state of the place, ‘you’ve made a disgusting mess.’

‘Sorry Va Va,’ she said, eyes fixed on the telly.

She’s a compulsive apologist, saying sorry for things that aren’t even her fault, and her apologies are always so shallow. She says sorry because it’s expected; it has no meaning to her. Normally it’s pretty funny, but not today. It pissed me right off.

‘Yeah, well you should be sorry,’ I snapped at her really meanly, ‘you’ve made a friggin mess.’ I really wanted to say something worse, but we’re not allowed to swear in our house. I guess they’ve got me so well trained it’s almost impossible to do it. I felt really nasty just saying that to her. She looked at me shocked and dropped her lip.

‘Sorry Va Va,’ she said as tears filled her eyes, ‘me said sorry.’

I stopped picking up the cushions and looked at her sad face. I was such a bitch.

‘No, no,’ I grabbed hold of her and cuddled her. It wasn’t her fault. ‘Va Va sorry. I’m very, very grumpy today.’

I hid in my bedroom when I heard their separate cars pull up. I knew Mum would have stopped and picked up takeaway for dinner. I heard her putting

plates on the table and opening plastic containers.

‘Sushi,’ Ruby squealed loudly.

‘Avalon,’ Mum called, ‘dinner’s ready.’

I sat rigid at my desk. I didn’t want to them for dinner. I didn’t think I’d be capable of listening to their day’s events and acting interested. But I’d been doing it all day, pretending that I was okay. If I stopped now they’d want to know what was going on. I looked at myself in the mirror and practised smiling. No, too forced, looks like I’m having a crap. I tried again. Yes, better. A smile, a couple of questions and responses and I should get away with it.

I sat at my seat. Dad walked in behind me and kissed the top of my head, obviously forgiving me for turning up late to day care.

‘Hello girls,’ he said, sitting down and reaching across to dish himself up some teriyaki tofu. ‘How did we all go today?’

‘Good, good,’ I mumbled, having deliberately shoved an enormous chunk of bean curd into my mouth.

‘Did you find it?’ Dad asked, picking up his chopsticks.

‘What?’ I blurted, panicked, spraying wet bits of food across the table.

‘Avalon!’ Mum said, shaking her head. ‘Manners.’

‘Sorry,’ I said, using a serviette to wipe up the mess. What was he talking about? What did he know?

‘Home room,’ Dad said, watching me strangely. ‘You were worried you might get lost.’

‘Oh yeah.’ I shoved more food into my mouth and nodded. That conversation seemed a lifetime ago — had it only been this morning? ‘Easy.’

‘Peasy, Japanesey,’ shouted Ruby, flicking an udon noodle at me.

Dad laughed and picked the noodle up. ‘So Miss Ruby, what did you do today?’

I managed to make it through dinner. I found that if I forced myself to focus on the conversation I was able to shut my mind off from the internet character assassination momentarily. As soon as I’d stacked the plates in the dishwasher I called out to Mum and Dad.

‘I’m going to bed. Good night.’

I was lying in bed, my bedside light was on and I’d been trying to read. But I

couldn’t absorb a single line of my novel. Every word took me back to school. Alice was so pretty and smart. I’d seen her with other girls, girls she liked, and she seemed really nice. Why was she such a bitch to me? Julie was dangerous. She was the sort of chick who’d do anything for Alice. Alice was definitely the queen, Julie her maid of honour. But I didn’t get it. They were well liked, by the guys too, so why be such bitches? What had I really done? I kept thinking about that Mitch comment in the toilets on the first day. What should I have said? I was trying to make her realise I didn’t care about him at all. But she took it badly, the wrong way. And now I was in deep shit.

There was a light tap on the door.

‘Avalon,’ Dad put his head around the door, ‘may I come in?’

‘Course,’ I said, though I felt immediately anxious. I didn’t want him asking the wrong questions.

He sat on the edge of my bed and picked up my discarded novel. ‘Do you like it?’ he asked, smoothing the cover with his hand. Dad has great respect for books, he can’t bear to see them folded backwards.

‘What?’

‘Catcher,’ he said, holding up my novel.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ I said, looking at it, ‘it’s good.’

We sat in silence for a second.

‘Honey,’ Dad began. Inwardly I groaned. Here it comes. ‘Is everything okay?’

I nodded my head, unsure how my voice would sound. I swallowed. My mouth was moist enough. ‘Yeah,’ I ventured.

‘Do you feel like you’re settling in okay? Everything at school good?’

I looked at his face. He was trying to make it sound like no big deal, but I knew my dad and his methods. He thought something wasn’t quite right.

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘it’s been different. You know. I don’t know anyone. And I’m having to make all these new friends.’ I wanted this over quickly. I didn’t want Mum and Dad to know what was going on. Mum, the problem solver, would sit down and analyse the situation. Dad, the sensitive new age guy, would want to talk about my feelings. And then they’d both be straight up the school having meetings with the principal and teachers, even worse, the students. I shuddered at the thought. If these people were confronted, my life wouldn’t be worth living. It was hell now, but if that happened — I wasn’t going to make things worse for myself. They mustn’t find out.

‘And have you?’ he asked.

‘Have I what?’

‘Made new friends.’ He was looking at me oddly again.

‘Yeah. Marshall, who I told you about, and Jemima, Sukey and Tamara. And the guys in Science.’ I nodded and smiled. ‘It’s all okay Dad.’

‘I don’t want you to feel unhappy,’ he said. He picked my hand up and squeezed it. ‘Or alone.’

‘I’m fine Dad,’ I said, wriggling down in the bed. ‘I’m really tired though.’

‘Okay.’ He got up off the bed. ‘Sleep tight,’ he said as he shut the door.

I reached up and flicked my bedside light off. Finally the tears escaped me, I felt so very alone.

Night Horrors

I woke gasping for breath. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to leap out of my chest. I leaned over the edge of the bed trying to breathe. My hair was plastered to my head. I had griping stomach pains, like a knife was being twisted in my guts. I was shaky and jittery. My clock radio said two thirty. I flicked on the bedside lamp and swung my legs out of bed. I’d only been asleep for an hour. It had taken me so long to doze off and now I was awake again.

I pulled my curtains back and opened the window. It was a bright night, even though the moon wasn’t quite full. It had a flat bottom, like a punctured tyre. But it was casting plenty of light. I watched a black cat, like a sleek panther, jump effortlessly onto the top of the fence. He perched there, amber eyes glinting in the moonlight, as still as a ceramic ornament.

My breathing had slowed and I was starting to feel chilled. Why did they hate me so much? Who were they? Was the whole school involved? I couldn’t stop thinking. Awake or asleep, it was like I’d been invaded.

The cat leapt from the fence into the neighbour’s garden and disappeared instantly into the long shadows cast by the tall white gums. Invisible. I shut the window and drew the curtains together. I shuffled back to bed. Two fifty. I knew I wouldn’t get any sleep.

Enduring the First Week

The rest of the week was more of the same, people whispering behind their hands, looking at me and mouthing stuff to the person next to them, or stopping with a guilty look when I walked into a room. I became steel. I made myself into an impenetrable fortress. I would not let the vicious gossip break me; if they were looking for a reaction from me they weren’t going to get it.

Both mornings, getting ready for school was like preparing for war. I knew what I was going to encounter and I knew it was going to be ugly. There were several things I could count on. One would be that Alice and the Bitches would take every single opportunity to call me slut or filthy ho. The second was that other kids, ones I didn’t even know, that I might never have spoken to if not for this, would ask me if I really had a daughter called Ruby, or ask how many abortions I’d had. The first few times I looked them in the eye and said, ‘Ruby’s my sister, I’ve never had a baby.’ But even if they believed me, it seemed they liked me to think that they thought the rumours were true, so in the end I stopped explaining myself. Then there were the people who just watched as these two groups slowly tortured me every day.

Home, however, was a completely different story. I didn’t do any schoolwork, I couldn’t eat and I didn’t want to be around my family.

When Dad picked me up from school I’d smile at him and listen to his standard, ‘So what happened at school today?’

Hmmm, let me think Dad. What happened? I was called a filthy ho and dirty whore more times than I can count. People laughed at me and pointed at me. The

Bitches are telling people I’ve had three abortions and a baby. I got fifteen texts telling me I’m a slut. Everybody but a group of rejects hates me. And I wish I was dead.

‘Nothing,’ I’d say, and stare out the window, thinking about getting home and getting online. There I’d sit for hours on end surfing the net, finding each new piece of mean gossip about me. It had become an obsession, to know every little thing they were saying. To say I was one of the most miserable people to have walked the planet would be an understatement. Each morning I’d stand in my room, staring at the girl in the mirror dressed in her sophisticated school uniform and wish I could be back in my country school. Wish I had never stepped foot into this crappy senior high.

I awoke Saturday morning with a deep sense of relief. I lay with my head against the pillows as I emerged from my dreams and wondered why I felt so light. Of course, I didn’t have to go to school. I didn’t have to see their faces for two whole days. I could have danced across my bedroom. As I came down the stairs I heard Mum and Dad in the kitchen.

‘Do you think we should organise a meeting with her home room teacher?’ It was Dad. I didn’t go in, but peeked around the doorway. Mum was sitting by the window at the little round table eating toast and reading the newspaper. Dad was wearing his daggy old green-checked dressing gown and pouring a caffeine-free coffee from the percolator.

‘I think we have to let her have an adjustment time. It’s a big move for a teenager, Year Ten.’ Mum didn’t look up from the paper.

‘But she’s not been herself,’ Dad said and sipped his coffee. ‘I think something’s going on. She’s so short tempered, she’s avoiding all of us, she’s spending hours

on the computer, and she’s constantly checking her mobile phone. It’s not healthy. When I asked her how it was going she brushed me off too quickly. The lady doth protest too much, methinks.’

‘Doyle, she’s just trying to fit in.’ Mum shook the paper and looked up. I saw them connect and heard Mum falter. ‘Do you really think she’s in trouble?’ Her voice had suddenly changed.

‘Miriam, the warning signs are all there.’ I watched Dad sit at the table and pick up Mum’s hand. ‘She’s definitely not herself, she’s up most nights, she looks terrible. We wanted her to go to a better school and have a greater chance of succeeding. But I’m worried this upheaval’s been too much for her. We haven’t heard of any friends, she doesn’t talk to us. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.’ It was time to break this up. I appeared around the doorway.

‘Morning,’ I said as cheerfully as I could. I went to the machine and poured some coffee. ‘What are we doing today guys?’ I asked brightly. I watched them exchange a look. I had to be careful, I didn’t want to overdo it. But I didn’t want them on my case sniffing around, trying to find out what was going on.

‘Thought we’d go and check out some shops,’ Dad said. ‘We could redecorate your bedroom this weekend.’

‘Excellent,’ I said, smiling widely.

When I went upstairs to change I heard my phone ping. It sat lit up on the desk. I walked towards it slowly. Why today? This was my day off. New Message. There was no choice, I opened it.

we are watching you slut

As usual it was a number I didn’t recognise. My light mood evaporated instantly. Was there no reprieve? It was enough to make a sane person do crazy things.

That weekend I received four text messages, three of them abusive, but the last one was a website address. I could feel my intestines shrivel — another website? I quickly closed it and looked up to find Dad watching me.

‘Who’s that?’ he asked casually.

‘Just a friend from school.’

I pretended to be really interested in some purple fabric. ‘This would make great curtains, hey Mum.’

‘Why don’t you invite some of them over?’ Dad said. ‘The pool’s ready to swim in, I’ve had the solar blanket on for days. It should be at least thirty degrees in the water tomorrow.’

‘Sure,’ I said, sliding my phone into my pocket.

The rest of the day I aimed to be the old me.

As we were leaving Bunnings, Dad carrying Ruby in one arm and the tins of paint in the other, Mum loaded up with timber blinds and with bags of hardware, I almost walked straight into Alice.

‘Hi,’ she flashed her saccharine smile. ‘How you doing Avalon?’

It sounded almost like she cared. It was the first time she’d spoken to me face to face since the second day. I couldn’t believe her balls! She was such a good actor.

‘Good,’ I said. I didn’t want to sound churlish. Mum and Dad were watching the exchange with interest, but I found it difficult to look her in the eye. That bitch had made my first week at school a living hell.

‘Decorating?’ she said, and smiled at Ruby. ‘Hello, you must be Ruby.’ Ruby screwed up her face, which immediately developed a red hue; her bottom lip quivered and she started crying. Good old Ruby! You know, they reckon animals and small children can sense evil.

‘Shh, shh, Rubes,’ Dad said, jiggling her. But Ruby is no small crier, she has a wail on her that had every head in the massive warehouse turning our way. ‘She must be tired,’ Dad said, putting the tins down. ‘Avalon, you haven’t introduced us to your friend.’

‘Oh, this is Alice from school,’ I said woodenly over Ruby’s screams. ‘Mum, Dad and Ruby, my sister,’ I emphasised the word.

‘Hi Alice,’ Dad said.

‘Hi Mr Maloney,’ she replied like a sugar-coated tiger snake. ‘Hi, Mrs Maloney.’ Dad was looking at me, making eyes. I narrowed my own at him — there was absolutely no way I was inviting her to my house. Suddenly I was terrified Dad would do it for me.

‘See ya Alice, we’ve gotta go.’ I picked Dad’s tins up off the floor and started walking away.

‘Bye,’ she called, waving as we retreated.

Neither of my parents said much to me in the car, but I caught them in the rearview mirror looking at each other and silently mouthing a conversation.

See? Dad’s mouth made the shape.

Mum nodded.

She’s … his mouth formed, as he waggled his hand sideways under the steering wheel in sign language for ‘suspect’.

Mum raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips.

Dad shook his head.

Mum tutted.

From the back seat I felt even more anxious. They were on to me.

First stop at home was my bedroom. Mum and Dad were busy putting Ruby down for a nap and I got onto my phone.

my place tomorrow for a swim @ 1?

I sent it to Sukey, Jemima, Marshall and Tamara. While I waited for their replies I quickly jumped onto the laptop and typed in the latest web address sent to my phone. I chewed the bloodied skin around my nails as I watched the status bar. It was like a drum roll, da da da da da da. The page opened. A teenage chat room. My heart sank, a live-time bitch fight!

I opened the Lounge. There were one hundred people online and the chat was fast and pretty disgusting; it was like a porn channel for adolescents. Everyone operated under a name and most were heavy in sexual content. Dragon Girl and Metallica Guy were responding quickly to each other.

want to video call? <metallica guy> Yeah sure. I’m as horny as fuck

you know who else I think would be interested? <metallica guy> who? a dirty slut, she does this thing on the daily. You should email her, her name is Avalon <metallica guy> waiting??? [email protected] <metallica guy> thanks baby, keen for a 3 way? maybe later

I almost ducked when my email address came up on the screen. Could they see me? It felt like everyone in the world had direct access to me in my bedroom through the laptop. Stop it, I wanted to scream. Why are you doing this to me? At that moment, a window popped up in the right hand corner of my screen with its whirring noise.

You have 2 new emails

Oh great! It was with a sense of defeat and punishment I opened my inbox.

I looked at the messages with nauseous anticipation. I knew what they were going to say. I knew they would suck me further down into that place I was so desperately trying to keep my head above. With my eyes fixed on the subject bar I clicked Metallica Guy’s email.

From: metallica guy Sent: Saturday, February 7, 12.43pm To: [email protected] Subject: video

Hey sexy, Someone told me you’d be up for a quick video call, if you know what I mean . Let me know if your keen, I’m always up for a bit of fun.. metallica guy

I sat, hands frozen over the keyboard, staring at the message. What was wrong with him? Did he really think I’d be interested in doing that in front of a camera? Or was it just to shit me? My face was screwed up in disgust, I shook my head — NO. I deleted it, hitting the button hard, wishing it was his eye I was jabbing my finger into. Then I opened Dragon Girl’s message.

From: dragon girl Sent: Saturday, February 7, 12.45pm To: [email protected]

Subject: public info

Dear Avalon, Soon you’ll be hearing from some horny guys. The truth about you is out, everyone knows your a massive slut! So don;t try to fight the roumours, we all know they are true. So have fun with metallica guy and all the perverts to come. Hope that will keep you away from all the guys at school. Have fun you dirty slut, I can’t wait to tell everyone about this! dragon girl

I sat in my chair trembling. This girl was so vicious, what was wrong with her? What had I done? I’d been at school a week. I hadn’t tried to go out with anyone. I just wanted to make friends and fit in. Why were they doing this to me? Why? Why? Why?

I wanted to scream. I wanted to smash something, the urge was so powerful. But instead I reached over and pushed the power button on my laptop. I hope you crash, I muttered under my breath. I watched the screen blacken as my phone pinged.

I was being bombarded from every possible angle. What now? I picked it up — the sender was Tamara. I gave a huge sigh. I must have been holding my breath. I opened her message.

see you tomorrow

Instantly my phone vibrated again. Message Received from Jemima, and then after that from Marshall. It was much later that evening Sukey texted me; they were all coming. My shoulders instantly relaxed and I smiled to myself. I had made some friends, and tomorrow I’d have a normal day, in my pool, surrounded by people who couldn’t care less about the crap being said about me.

Ignore It

It was a beautiful clear day. The sky was brilliant blue, not a cloud in sight. There was no wind. I was already used to the different sounds of this neighbourhood. Out on the street was the rhythmical tapping of a netball being bounced against the asphalt, the thrumming noise of the steady stream of traffic heading down to the beach, and the occasional honking of horns. In the distance came the sound of the surf rolling in.

Our new back garden was huge and tropical. The swimming pool took up one side of the garden and was surrounded by timber decking and tall, green succulent plants. Within the pool enclosure were green and white striped deck chairs and sun lounges, beneath overlapping sun sails.

‘We have to come up with a plan,’ Marshall said as he lay on his stomach on the decking. I was floating on my back in the water, looking up at the clear blue sky, listening to the sounds and inhaling the different smells. For a moment I had forgotten the horrors of the last week. But only for a moment.

‘I have a plan,’ I said, looking at him through my Dirty Dog sunglasses.

‘What’s that?’ asked Tamara. She was sitting awkwardly on a deck chair, as if worried it would collapse under her weight. She was dressed in an oversized tshirt and pants, even though it was high twenties. There was no way she’d get into the pool.

‘Ignore it,’ I said. I had reached this decision yesterday, when I turned my laptop

off.

‘That’s a pretty hard thing to do,’ Tamara said. ‘I find the best way is to beat the shit out of them. Worked for me.’

‘And got you expelled from your last school,’ said Jemima, floating on a transparent pink lilo. ‘Maybe Avalon’s right.’

‘Look at it this way,’ I said, lifting myself out the water and sitting on the pool’s edge. ‘If they get no reaction from me, they’ll lose interest. What’s the point in spending so much time and energy on someone who ignores all your bitchiness? I’m not going to let it get to me. They can say what they want and spread bullshit to as many people as they like. If I pretend it’s not happening, surely it’ll lose its desired effect? They’re boring, insignificant, time-wasting, stupid people and I’m not going to let them ruin my life.’

‘BITS of people!’ Marshall exclaimed loudly, sitting up and clapping his hands.

‘Bits?’ Sukey asked from the shallow end. Her nose was starting to burn and her eyes were bloodshot from chlorine.

‘Boring, Insignificant, Time-wasting, Stupid!’ He looked at me, pleased with himself. ‘That’s it Avalon, that describes them exactly.’

Later that evening Dad cooked us a barbeque and we sat in the back yard talking about general school stuff, the others filling me in on things that had happened

over the years. It got darker, and we sat listening to the ticking cicadas and burping frogs, enjoying the warm evening. Marshall sat next to me and asked me a lot of questions about Grace Point and the people there. He’d gone out of his way, from the first day, to make me feel like I belonged. He was so different from Jake. Where Jake and I took great pleasure in disagreeing with each other, so that a simple conversation could end up in a full-blown argument, Marshall was the opposite. He’d listen, and even if he disagreed, he wouldn’t tell me my ideas were stupid. I really liked him. There was something so open and honest about him. Not to mention the fact he was such a hottie. Oh why, why, why did he have to be gay?

I watched Sukey talking to Dad about Animal Farm and felt an overwhelming rush of gratitude towards her. If she hadn’t asked me to her group that first day I would’ve had to endure this week on my own. I was lucky; I didn’t really deserve them. She saw me watching and flashed me a sympathetic smile. I smiled back, hoping to convey my happiness. Things had been bad, but they could have been a whole lot worse.

A Confrontation

‘I’m thinking of dropping off the team,’ I told Marshall as we walked towards the canteen. We would go off together, where the others wouldn’t venture away from the netball courts. It was like we were trying to prove something.

‘Why?’ he said, jingling coins in his pocket. ‘I thought you liked the practice.’

‘Not really.’ I saw three of Alice’s friends sitting on a bench in the undercover area, scabbing money from people as they walked by.

‘Is it the Bitches?’ he said, seeing them too.

‘Yeah.’ I knew better than to pretend with Marshall, he always saw through the crap. ‘They turn up every time to cheer for Alice and when Fisher’s not around they shout stuff and boo me. It’s enough with all the messages, let alone real time .’

‘Don’t quit,’ he said as we ed another group of Year Tens.

‘Bums against the walls,’ Todd shouted loudly, ‘fag in the area.’ I looked at him in disgust.

‘Hey, watch out, slut in the area.’ Julie got up from the bench and moved closer to us.

‘Get your hand outta your pocket gay boy,’ Lisa called.

‘Oh disgusting, he’s playing with himself,’ squealed Courtney.

‘No, I think the slut’s got her hand in his pocket.’ That was Julie.

‘He’s got a stiffy, he’s got a stiffy,’ another girl screamed.

I looked around in horror. It was like the dreams you have where you’re naked and everyone is pointing and laughing at you. I was completely out of it. It was so unreal. They had moved in on us. Marshall and I were frozen, in shock, watching their mouths spit poisonous darts at us. Todd was standing in front of me, blocking me so I couldn’t walk on. He had an icy pole in his mouth and was sucking it loudly, shoving it in and out of his mouth. Red liquid was splattering his face and his white shirt. I watched it go in and out, in and out. He was laughing and moaning, ‘Oh baby, yeah, yeah.’

Then Caleb arrived. He said ‘Piss off,’ to Todd and shoved him backwards and out of my face. The icy pole fell on the floor and shattered pieces of red ice formed tiny puddles on the concrete. Todd fell backwards awkwardly, but regained his footing before he hit the floor.

‘Get out of their way you little dickhead,’ Caleb ordered.

Todd stepped forward again, but the leer had vanished from his face. He looked frightened.

‘Mind your own fucken business,’ he snarled at Caleb, though there was something unconvincing about his voice. The others had moved back, swallowing their taunts. Caleb looked at Julie and Lisa. These two were always after the surfers.

‘You’re a pair of bitches,’ he said, shaking his dreadlocks. They looked embarrassed. Marshall and I were still frozen motionless. I wanted to thank Caleb but I didn’t want to look any more pathetic than I already did.

‘Okay?’ said Caleb as we left the canteen area. Marshall and I had automatically moved off with him. I nodded my head and opened my mouth to speak but he had already waved and gone off to catch up with his mates outside the gym.

‘That was lucky,’ Marshall said.

‘What would have happened?’ I was trembling.

‘It usually ends in tears,’ Marshall said flatly.

When I got home that day I sat in front of my laptop and typed in the address of a message board someone had anonymously texted me. I knew it was going to be more ugly rumours and comments about me so I prepared myself for the

worse. It wasn’t too original — more of the same stuff, but what was ingenious about this site was that someone was impersonating me.

Who hates Avalon Maloney?

dragon girl don’t you think Avalon is a slut Shes flirting with all guys like shes hot shit. She talks like she knows everything. Whats an allergory u smart ass, bitch? I seen her smiling at the hot guys like shes good enough for them. She thinks shes so much better than us. I hate her. Shes a total slut.

AM she’s not to bad I think she’s pretty and smart

Hope,faith&charity nah she’s a slut I’ve seen her, open her buttons so guys see her tits. She just wants to get every guys attention. She’s tried it with Caleb and the surfers. And tried again today with Mitch and Jeremy, she acts so innocent but she’s a devious slut.

Removed following two complaints

dragon girl

whats she tried with them Slut. Slut. Slut. If she goes near those guys I’ll kill that bitch.

AM wow who ever wrote that message is so retarded Why don’t you get a life and stop slagging Avalon. She’s done nothing wrong. She’s real nice and pretty. I like her.

dragon girl your a slut to in fact I know who you are. You’r Avalon pretending to be other people. How pathetic are you? Your such a total loser. No one likes you dumb slut. Get it. We know who you are. we know its you Avalon. Whats AM mean — Avalon Maloney??

AM i like Avalon And no im not me

Removed following two complaints

dragon girl They keep removing my posts Well I can tell you all this. Avalon is a dirty slut. If you like a guy or have a boyfriend, watch out. She’ll do anything to get her filthy hands on him.

Good girl

dragon girl is right about Avalon. Any one who says she’s nice is just her pretending to be other people. It’s a shame they keep removing dragon girls messages, just because she says the truth about that dirty whore.

I didn’t know what to do. I wiped my hands over my exhausted eyes. Part of me wanted to respond, go online and tell Dragon Girl exactly what I thought about her and her mates. But I knew it was useless. That’s exactly what she wanted me to do; that was why she was making up comments from me. It was so pathetic: if I didn’t respond, they’d do it for me, to make me look like some sad retard. Everything Dragon Girl wrote was so vicious. Alice must hate me so much; it wasn’t enough that all her friends were ing in, she had to make the gossip dirtier and nastier.

I closed my laptop. I couldn’t read any more. I didn’t want to see what would go on there as a result of Todd’s attack in the canteen area today. My skin prickled in fear. Once Julie and Lisa told Alice about it, she would turn it into a huge slagging match about me. I didn’t get any of it. Why would Todd do that? Apart from Alice and the Bitches, no-one had really confronted me face to face like that. The people who made comments to me weren’t even in my year, but Todd was in my classes. He really freaked me out. He was considered pretty smart by all s, yet he was so openly vile. He’d really shaken my confidence, or what little I had left. No matter how much thought I gave it, I couldn’t work it out. What was wrong with him?

Marshall had made it a habit to ring me every night just before eight. When the phone rang I knew it was him. His phone calls usually managed to settle my anxiety. He encouraged me to talk about what I’d encountered that day and how I felt about it. He was the reason I was able to keep up my façade. One night, when I was so upset I couldn’t speak, I just cried. He suggested I talk to Mum and Dad. His comment was so unexpected it was like a slap in the face.

‘Do you know what they’ll do?’ I said to him, terrified.

‘Yeah, but if you can’t cope with it maybe you need them to do that,’ he offered gently. ‘Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.’

He didn’t sound convincing. ‘No way,’ I said firmly. ‘I can handle it. Anyway, why would I tell them when I’ve got you?’

He never suggested it again.

This night, in response to my question about Todd, he said, ‘He’s juvenile. He’s the type of guy that can’t get a laugh unless it’s at someone else’s expense.’

‘But he was such an arsehole,’ I said, picturing that icy pole going in and out.

‘You can’t let it bother you Av,’ Marshall said quietly, ‘otherwise it’ll send you crazy.’

‘But it must bother you,’ I said, without really thinking, ‘the way they make fun of you being gay.’

He didn’t answer for a while and I realised what I’d said. I hoped I hadn’t upset him. His gayness was something no-one in our group ever mentioned.

‘You get used to it,’ he said finally. ‘People will say what they like. It’s up to you

how you deal with it.’

He sounded so together. He didn’t care what other people thought about him. As I hung up the phone, I realised how much I depended on his advice. Stuff the lot of them.

Dad came in quietly and picked the home phone up off my bed.

‘I was looking for that,’ he said.

I knew he was lying but I played along. That’s what you do in this house. in and play the game.

‘So was it Marshall?’ Dad asked.

I nodded. I knew Dad really liked him. He thought he was a nice boy — I’d heard him saying that to Mum. And given my history of always having a male best friend it didn’t seem odd that I’d have found a new one. When I thought about it, he was my new best friend, exactly like Jake had been. I was so comfortable with Marshall, probably because I could tell him anything — and there was none of that sexual attraction stuff getting in the way.

‘He’s nice,’ Dad said. It was weird, but our conversations didn’t seem natural any more. Back home I could always count on Dad when I needed someone to talk to. But things had changed so much. And I knew Dad felt it too. ‘Do you miss Jake?’ he said.

I nodded. ‘Of course I do.’ I missed Jake, my old school, Grace Point, our old house and the uncomplicated life we used to lead. I missed the old me.

Dad shook his head. ‘I miss home as well.’

I looked at him, surprised. In those times when I’d made an effort to interact with the family, everyone seemed to love the change. And so they should. It was all their big idea.

‘I thought you wanted this,’ I said, shocked to hear the venom in my tone. Dad looked surprised too.

‘I did. We both did. Your mother and I. But you know I was always happy in Grace Point. It was my perfect place. The country, the beach, simplicity and nature.’ He shrugged and looked at me. ‘You know your old Dad, a simple man.’

‘You’re anything but that,’ I said. What was this about?

‘It takes a while though,’ Dad went on. And then I realised. This wasn’t about him, it was about me again. ‘To adjust. It can be a big shift. Leaving behind everything and everyone you know.’

I patted his hand. ‘You just need time,’ I said sardonically.

He looked a bit hurt. ‘So what’s up with Marshall?’

‘What?’ I exclaimed, rather loudly.

‘He fancies you,’ Dad said. And I wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a question.

‘Oh God, Dad,’ I said, ‘for an observant bloke you’re pretty blind. Marshall’s gay.’

Dad looked at me quizzically.

‘You know — gay, a faggot, homosexual.’

Dad shook his head. ‘I’m really surprised at you Avalon. I never thought you’d judge a book by its cover.’

I watched him in disbelief as he walked out of my room. For someone who thought he was so cool, Dad was way out of touch.

Bullet Proof

When you make yourself bullet proof you find yourself engaging in a lot of self talk. Ignore them, turn away, smile brightly; pretend you didn’t hear it, see it, read it. Talk nicely to those who are hateful, but not too nice — you don’t want to look like a try-hard. Above all else do not give them the power. Do not let them think they are strong.

I felt an element of confidence return each time my feet touched the netball courts at recess and lunch. Pretty pathetic hey? I was protected when I was in my safe little haven, with the four people in the entire school I could trust. This lunchtime I walked in swinging my bag behind me. I’d just had Science, which always put a lift in my step. Caleb was one cool guy. In the forty minute lesson I spent with him it wasn’t hard to believe I was someone else. My four friends were deep in conversation, which stopped abruptly as they saw me approach. I don’t know if you can imagine the horror I experienced seeing the look of guilt on their faces. Especially Marshall’s.

‘Hi,’ I said, feeling like I was about to vomit.

They said ‘Hi’ back, but none of them would make eye with me. What had they been talking about? Obviously me — but what about me? I dropped my bag but I didn’t want to sit. If they had all turned on me too I didn’t think I could bear it. Where could I go then?

‘Sit down Avalon,’ Marshall said, looking up at me.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked, my eyes darting from one to the other. ‘What were you talking about? What’s the big secret?’

‘Nothing, sit down.’ Marshall grabbed my hand and pulled me down. I reluctantly sat; I had nowhere else to go. Everyone was silent.

‘Well?’ I said, staring at Marshall. I knew he’d tell me the truth. ‘What’s the latest bullshit? Who am I supposed to be doing now?’ I felt like crying.

‘Oh God,’ Marshall said, putting his arm around me, ‘it’s nothing like that. It’s not even really about you.’

‘What then?’ I stared at him defiantly. Not really about me?

‘It’s a party,’ he said, ‘at Alice’s this Saturday night.’

‘Right,’ I laughed in relief, ‘well I guess I’ll have to mark that one in my social calendar. As if!’

Jemima and Sukey were still silent. Tamara stared stonily into the distance.

‘Well,’ I said, suddenly realising, ‘you’ve all been invited then?’

‘Yeah,’ Marshall grabbed my hand, ‘but we’re not — I’m not — going. No way.’

I could tell by their body language that Sukey, Tamara and Jemima were.

‘It’s okay,’ I said, ‘I don’t have a problem with any of you guys going. It’ll probably be great, everyone from school will be there. Shit, I can understand you going.’

Sukey looked up. ‘I’m sorry Avalon, it’s just that I’ve never been actually invited to anything like this before. And I’ve always wanted to go.’ She had tears in her eyes. I knew she felt like a traitor.

‘Sook it’s fine. Honestly. Go, don’t worry about me. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have been allowed to go anyway. You know what my parents are like.’ I tried to sound convincing. But of course it hurt. Everyone, even the Weirdos and Queeros were invited. Except me.

Marshall insisted on coming to hockey practice after school. I think he must have been worried about me. During lunch it was hard to keep on smiling and pretending I was okay, even though I was getting pretty good at the act. Part of me felt betrayed by them. Why would they want to go to that bitch’s party? But the thing that really brought me down was that it was another public declaration of how I was the most unpopular girl in the school.

‘If she can bring her own cheer squad, why can’t you,’ he said, looking at Alice pulling her socks up to her knees. ‘Don’t give up Avalon, they’ll know why.’

I wasn’t sure if he meant hockey or the pretence I was living. But either way, Marshall was right; they would know why and I would be sending a clear message that they frightened me.

On the field I was sure I was the target for every wildly swung stick or badly hit ball. By the end of practice several bruises were erupting over my body, one the size of an egg on my shin.

‘Sorry,’ Alice had casually thrown over her shoulder as she ran away with the ball and I lay on the grass, my leg pulled up to my chest, sure my shin was cracked. I looked for Miss Fisher, but she was running down the boundary line, her eyes fixed on the ball’s journey.

After practice I sat on the bench next to Marshall and peeled back my sock to survey the damage. Alice was zipping up her sports bag and flicking her golden hair around. She hadn’t even worked up a sweat.

‘Hi Mitch,’ I heard her say. I looked over and Mitch and Jeremy were approaching with sports bags and towels over their shoulders.

‘Hi Alice,’ Mitch said. ‘Pretty good game, congratulations on the foul you got away with.’

‘What foul?’ she asked flirtatiously. She was so transparent it made me cringe watching her.

‘The one where you stole the ball from Avalon and tried to break her leg,’ he said, looking over at me. I could feel the hairs on my arms starting to rise. I didn’t want his attention.

‘That was a fair tackle,’ she said, eyes narrowing as she looked my way.

‘C’mon,’ I said softly to Marshall, grabbing his hand.

‘It looked fair to me,’ Jeremy said, smiling at Alice.

‘See,’ she said to Mitch. But he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at me.

‘Avalon,’ he began. But I cut him off quickly.

‘Look, I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go. My dad’s waiting over there for me.’ The words were jumbled and quick and I waved my arm vaguely. Whatever he wanted to say to me I had to stop, it didn’t matter what it was. I had the feeling it would be about Saturday night. And that would be the most disastrous thing he could do — ask me if I was going, or worse, ask me to go with him. Whatever it was would be bad news for me. I dragged Marshall as I tried to escape. Mitch looked stunned.

‘Weird,’ he said, before I was out of earshot.

‘She is,’ Alice confirmed, nodding her head happily.

‘And that boy is queer,’ Jeremy said, smiling at Alice.

A Thin Veneer

I was working hard to present a detached and indifferent exterior to the people at school while inside my guts churned and my head ached with the overwhelming question of why? The misery was released at home, alone in my bedroom, the one place I had felt safe until it was invaded through my fifteen-inch lap top.

Dad was starting to check on my computer use. He’d come into my room quietly, trying to sneak up on me and read over my shoulder the website I was on. So I’d open two, and if I heard him coming I’d quickly switch to the alternative page.

‘Come on,’ he said one night, reading the web page on Sorrento Life Saving Club over my shoulder, ‘you spend too much time on the computer.’

‘No Dad,’ I said, panicking that I wouldn’t be able to read the vote results. I was on a site where people at school cast their vote as to whether they thought I was a slut or not. Last count was 23 per cent saying yes. I was pretty pleased; it seemed fewer people were believing the lies.

‘I want you to come downstairs and the family. us? Dad, Mum and little sister?’ He had that I’m-not-going-to-argue-about-it tone.

‘In a minute,’ I said, wanting him to go first so I could check the results.

‘Now,’ he said. ‘Hot Seat’s on — bet you can’t beat me. I’ve got the $16,000 question right.’

I knew I’d have to come back to it later.

‘Okay.’

I sat on the couch. I’d shared a block of chocolate with Mum and Dad and my Milo had gone cold. I had a sickly feeling in my stomach. Ruby was asleep with her head in my lap. Mum had her feet in Dad’s lap.

‘It’s B!’ Dad was shouting at the contestant.

‘No Doyle,’ Mum said, ‘it’s A — he’s right.’

Dad looked at me and winked. ‘What do you think?’

I hadn’t been watching. I’d been staring at the telly thinking about school and who’d be voting against me. I couldn’t relax until I knew. What percentage would it be now?

‘A,’ I said quickly. Mum smirked at Dad.

‘Hmmm, surprising,’ Dad said. ‘You’ll all be sorry. I’d have thought you’d back a winner Avalon. Watch and learn!’

Dad won the $64,000 question. And when I checked the website, finally, after they let me go to bed, I had scored 65 per cent.

Now I had to rush home and hit the web straight away. Dad had imposed a 6.00 pm internet curfew on me. I was sitting at my desk, my usual position at three thirty in the afternoon, deliberating over which site to hit first, when Ruby came in. I didn’t have the time or the energy for Ruby these days. She was too much like hard work. I couldn’t play her games, or listen patiently as she found the right words to tell me about her day. She’d speak and it was like a ringing in my ears. All I could think about was the websites. I needed to be in my room, door shut, reading the shit about me.

I was hitting the first site when she came up to my elbow.

‘Va Va,’ she said.

‘Not now Rubes,’ I said, hitting her hand away from the keyboard. I’d got into a chat room and my name was being mentioned by several of the participants.

‘Va Va,’ she said again, pulling on the sleeve of my shirt.

‘Ruby!’ I snarled, my voice sharp and mean. I didn’t take my eyes from the screen, but shook her hand off like she was an annoying fly. She was quiet for a

while and I didn’t look to see where she’d gone. My eyes were fixed on the screen in front of me. I’d gone back to last night’s vote where I was disappointed to see I’d ended up scoring 89 per cent. Dragon Girl was online saying the results must have been rigged, that it was impossible for 11 per cent of the population to think I wasn’t a slut. Hope, Faith & Charity came in saying I must have voted for myself, over and over again.

The anger was building inside me, it was like a pot simmering on the stove. I closed my eyes to hold back the tears of rage and frustration. When I opened them my screen was black, all the light converging into a tiny white pinprick in the centre.

‘What the —?’ I yelled through gritted teeth. I looked down and Ruby was under my desk. She’d turned my laptop off! I felt the rage bursting out of my ears as I reached under the desk and dragged her roughly out by her arm. The look of satisfaction on her face shrank to a tiny pursed mouth as I yelled at her.

‘RUBY! HOW COULD YOU? YOU’RE A NAUGHTY GIRL! NAUGHTY!’ My words were so loud and hard they hurt even my own ears.

Ruby’s face crumpled like a paper bag, her bottom lip red and wet, her mouth opened so wide I could see her tonsils at the back of her throat and then her cry, louder even than my shouting, erupted with volcanic force from her frightened and shocked little body. The howling only exacerbated my rage, it felt like hat pins being stuck into my brain. I wanted to shut her up. I still had hold of her by the arm and I felt myself squeezing it harder.

‘AVALON!’ Mum shouted, throwing open the door so hard it banged against the wall. She ran into the room and grabbed Ruby, protectively shielding her from my rage. As she lifted her up I still had my hand fixed around Ruby’s arm. I

couldn’t release my grip.

‘Let go of her!’ Mum screamed at me, and I had never seen my mum so angry.

I felt my fingers release. It was as if my body was obeying someone else’s brain. My hand dropped uselessly into my lap. I looked at it and looked at Ruby’s chubby white arm tattooed with my red fingerprints like a barbed wire armband. It should have been enough to shame me but I felt nothing.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ Mum said sharply, jiggling and stroking Ruby, soothing her plaintive howls with gentle cooing noises.

I didn’t say anything. I just stared at Mum and Ruby as if I’d never seen them before.

‘What?’ she snapped again, her patience gone. ‘I’m speaking to you Avalon. Answer me.’

‘She’s annoying,’ I heard someone say nastily, using my voice. Mum looked like I had stuck one of those hat pins through her heart. She didn’t say anything else, just gave me a really sad face and carried my little sister away.

I sat in my room with the door shut and felt awful. I knew a parental chat was coming on, and I didn’t think I could handle it. I pulled out my phone. I needed Marshall but he was meeting his dad for dinner, so I couldn’t call him. Instead I texted Sukey.

can u meet me?

I sat there listening to Mum playing with Ruby in her room. I wanted to them, to show Mum I was sorry, but I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to talk to her. Not right now. Not when I was so close to cracking. Sukey replied straight away.

come 2 my house

I grabbed my jacket and ran down the stairs. As I opened the kitchen door I shouted out to Mum, ‘I’m going out for a bit. Got my phone.’

I heard her get up and move to the door so I quickly stepped outside.

‘Where are you going?’ I heard as I ran down the footpath.

I’d never been to Sukey’s before, but I knew where she lived, it was only two streets from school. I walked up her road looking at the numbers on the letterboxes. Number 84 was pretty shabby looking. On the verandah was an old brown couch with a huge Rottweiler sleeping on it. The grass out the front was tall and brown. I watched a tiny gecko dart up one of the faded weatherboard s of the house.

I went to open the rusty old gate and the Rottweiler lifted its head and growled. It was a thundering, rolling growl that seemed to come out of the earth. I stopped and looked at the front door. The next minute I heard shouting and doors

slamming. I searched my bag for my phone, one hand still on the gate. The dog was now standing up on the couch, neck stretched forward, staring at me and growling loudly. I watched a long string of saliva drip from its pointy incisor tooth. I hit Sukey’s number on my s, there was no way I was opening that gate.

The front door flew open and I dropped my phone. It landed on the wrong side of the fence. The Rottweiler ran towards me, snapping and growling as I rummaged in the long weeds for the phone.

‘Cujo!’ Sukey shouted, ‘on your bed.’

The dog, all fifty kilos, stopped mid-flight and turned back to Sukey.

‘Go,’ she growled, pointing to the couch, ‘get over there.’

Like a little lamb, the dog jumped up on his bed. She walked down the broken paving to me.

‘Sorry, I should’ve warned you about Cujo. He’s actually really nice, wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

I looked at him doubtfully. His eyes were shut and his head was resting on his paws. A fly landed on his nose and he snapped quickly at it, white pointy teeth flashing like knives.

‘Except that one,’ I said, watching him catch it.

‘We’ll go to the shops,’ she suggested. ‘I’ve texted Tamara, she’ll meet us there.’

I looked back at the dog on the couch, glad she hadn’t invited me in. The shops sounded like a safe bet.

We met Tamara and hung out at the mall. I told them about my fight with Mum and how close I was to breaking. I didn’t think I could handle it any more. I asked if they’d seen the online vote against me. Sukey shook her head, but Tamara nodded.

‘Alice is a bitch,’ Tamara said angrily. ‘I’ll smack her out. I’m sick of the way she thinks she rules the school.’

‘You don’t want to do that,’ Sukey said. ‘It won’t be worth it.’

‘If it gets them off Avalon’s back it will,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I told you this,’ she said looking at me, ‘but I’m not going to that bitch’s party either.’

‘Oh, you don’t have to on my ,’ I said, embarrassed.

‘Nah,’ Tamara said, looking at Sukey who had dropped her eyes. ‘She wouldn’t give us the time of day. Why would I want to go to her party? And be surrounded by her and her plastic friends. I don’t think so.’

I suddenly realised how loyal Tamara was. And frankly I was glad to have her on my side. ‘Why don’t you come to the movies with me and Marshall?’ I suggested. ‘Dad’s driving us and picking up,’ I rolled my eyes to convey disgust, ‘but it should be fun.’

‘Okay,’ she said.

After a while we started talking about other stuff and I had to ask, I couldn’t help it.

‘So,’ I said, biting my lip, ‘is Marshall gay?’

Sukey nodded. ‘Yeah, I think so.’

Tamara didn’t seem so sure. ‘I dunno. He had a bit of shit about being different, but I don’t know if he’s gay.’

‘It’s just the way he acts, I guess,’ I said.

‘Yeah,’ Tamara nodded, ‘I just think he’s more in touch with his feminine side. I mean people probably think I’m a lesbian because of the way I look.’

By the time I got home I’d made a promise to myself not to go online any more.

Ruby was my wake-up call. I would not look at the websites and emails, and I would delete any text messages I got from unknown numbers. No matter how desperately I wanted to know what was being said, I could not afford to let myself find out. I had to really ignore it. Then it would have to go away. If I kept reading it all, and pretending it wasn’t affecting me, it was going to turn me insane — and violent.

‘Come into the lounge room,’ Dad said as I walked in the front door.

I groaned, but knew this had to happen. You don’t attack your sister, flee the scene, not answer your phone and get away with it in this house. No way! I was in for a Category 2 lecture, delinquent crimes, which falls just below Category 1, reserved for murder and mayhem. I was in for it.

I sat opposite them. Can you imagine what it’s like to be up against two teachers? It’s like facing a of principals every time you sneeze without covering your mouth.

‘Are you really happy?’ asked Dad, Master of Feelings. ‘You haven’t been yourself lately.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, trying not to make eye . ‘Everything’s fine.’

‘Is there something wrong?’ asked Mum, Problem Solver. ‘Has something happened?’

‘No,’ I sighed. But I knew I had to give them something to get them off my back. And I owed them an explanation for my behaviour. ‘I’m sorry about what happened with Ruby. But in all honesty I had a bit of a bad day today.’

‘Oh?’ Dad moved closer in his chair. ‘What happened?’

‘I don’t want you to freak out,’ I held up my hand warning them, ‘but I got kept in at lunchtime.’

‘Really?’ Mum sounded a bit disappointed. ‘Why? What did you do?’

‘Almost blew up another thermometer,’ I said, thinking quickly back to the second day in Science. I’m actually a crap liar — unless I can base it on some element of truth. If I have to make it up completely I normally get caught out.

‘Oh,’ they both said, relieved.

‘It was an accident. And the teacher wasn’t too mad. Just told me and Caleb off for talking too much and not paying attention. We had to stay in and write an essay about Safety in the Science Lab. But I knew you guys would be really disappointed with me.’ I looked to the floor, it wasn’t hard to act upset — I was always on the verge of it these days.

‘It’s not a big deal,’ Mum said, rubbing my back. ‘You shouldn’t have taken it so badly. So you were kept in; God Avalon, what did you think we’d do if we found out? Ground you?’

‘I dunno,’ I said, playing on making Mum feel guilty. ‘I didn’t want to let you down.’

‘You haven’t. Your treatment of Ruby is what bothers us more,’ she said. Crap, I wasn’t out of it yet.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said, forcing myself to make eye . ‘I was so stressed out and she turned my laptop off while I was finishing that essay. I lost all my work. I took it out on her.’

‘You really frightened her,’ Dad said. ‘Is that how you want her to feel about you? Frightened? Miserable? Sad?’

You could be describing me, I thought.

‘Of course not Dad.’ I met his eye for a while before I had to drop my gaze. ‘I said I was sorry. I’ll take her to the park tomorrow.’ I got up to go. ‘I’m having a shower.’

Dad called me before I got to the stairs.

‘Honey?’

‘What?’ I said, turning to look at him. He was leaning against the wall looking at me with that you’re-so-grownup face.

‘Are you sure that’s all?’ He nodded his head at me. ‘You know you can talk to me about anything.’

‘Yeah Dad, that’s all.’

61 Metres High and Climbing

I was lying on my bed listening to Missy Higgins’ Scar and for some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about this place not far from Grace Point called Pemberton. It’s probably one of the most beautiful places in Australia, with acres and acres of untouched karri forests. The karris stretch upwards, up and up forever. City people come on long weekends and school holidays, station wagons loaded high with camping gear.

It’s a different kind of holiday from staying on the beaches or at the vineyard strip; this is more like getting back to nature. Even though we lived only forty kilometres away, my Dad would rather spend time in Pemberton, in the old Rajneeshee camp, than anywhere else in the world.

Back in the 1980s there was this cult of Orange People who followed an Indian guru, the Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh. And coincidentally enough they all wore orange clothes. The Bhagwan promoted free living and a natural lifestyle. His followers gave him all their money and lived poor but apparently satisfying lives, while his garages were full of Rolls Royces.

Anyway, as part of their natural lifestyle they built an eco-environment which still exists today. Scattered through the forest are these chalets on stilts, overlooking an amazing lake. And in the middle of the karri forest, not far from the Orange People camp, is one really mighty tree. It’s an old, majestic karri, rising out of the ground and touching the clouds. The type of tree you’d read about in fairytales, with a giant living at the top. It’s called the Gloucester Tree.

The Gloucester Tree is not for the weak hearted. You can climb it, all 61 metres

of it — more than a million people have, apparently. Not like you’d normally climb a tree, shimmying up through the branches, but by means of pegs that have been nailed in, which spiral all the way up the trunk.

Since I was five I’d tried to climb the tree every holiday we spent down there. But I’d only get so far before my nerve would give way. The year I turned twelve I promised myself, no matter what, that this year I’d make it to the top.

Mum led the way, she’s done it hundreds of times, and Dad was a couple of handholds behind me. Hand up, foot up, and up we went. We ed my previous best efforts, the last being when I was nine and thought I’d gone half way, though it was more like ten metres.

Some brilliant green twenty-eights flew so close to me I felt the wind off their wings. They unnerved me and I hesitated, gripping the metal rail tightly. Dad was at my feet.

‘Go on Avalon, you can do it,’ he said. I was squeezing the rail so tightly its patterned surface bit deeply into my palms. I wanted to go back down. I couldn’t do this. I was frozen on the edge of the tree. The wind blew my hair into my face and I couldn’t release my grip to brush it out of my eyes.

I took a deep breath and moved my hand up to the next rung.

‘… a triangle trying to squeeze through a circle …’

Mum had already reached the top. I watched her disappear through the trapdoor onto the viewing platform.

My mouth was so dry I could barely swallow. I didn’t want to look down. If I fell I’d be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. Mum stuck her head back down through the hole.

‘This is it Avalon. You’re here. Come on up.’

And then I sticking my head up through the hole and Mum grabbing my hands, pulling me through, my heart thundering. Mum gave me a bottle of water and I gulped it down as Dad ed us.

‘Not bad, hey?’ he said pointing to the view.

‘… he tried to cut me so I’d fit …’

I nodded and my fear evaporated. The view was panoramic. As far as I could see were the waving tips of karris. Birds flew from tree to tree. I felt like I was on a cloud. It was a bushfire look-out and now I knew why. From this point you could see danger coming a mile away.

No-one prepared me for the descent. Sticking my feet back through the hole and taking the first step down was the scariest part. But I squeezed my eyes shut and said, you got up there. Now get down.

‘… doesn’t that sound familiar …?’

The whole way down I told myself I could do it. And when my feet touched the ground I realised I’d never really believed it.

‘… could you leave me with a scar …?’

Big Is Beautiful

Sukey and Jemima didn’t say much about the party. But I got the impression it hadn’t been the social event of the year it was supposed to be. Jemima told me in home room that only twenty or so girls had turned up.

‘What, no guys?’ I whispered. I knew part of their desire to go had been because Mitch and Jeremy and the rest of the footy team would be there.

‘Nah,’ Jemima shook her head, ‘Sukey and I left about ten thirty. So maybe they came later. But we kind of felt out of place.’

I could sympathise; it wasn’t hard to imagine that without Mitch and the footy team there, Alice and the Bitches would have turned their attention on any rejects.

‘So, not a good night?’ I tried to sound sincere.

She shook her head again. ‘What was the movie like?’

Later I heard Alice and the Bitches talking about how ripped they were that night and what a great time they’d had. But I knew it was all bullshit. Anyone who’d turned up knew that Alice had bombed socially. And that information gave me great pleasure.

The siren went for the end of lunch. Bodies headed off in all directions across the school in an automatic response to the long, warbling wail. I picked up my bag and was walking to the gate when I heard Tamara run to catch up to me. She was out of breath, puffing hard. She grabbed my arm. ‘I want to ask you a favour,’ she said.

‘Anything.’ I really meant it. I would have done pretty much anything for Tamara.

‘Will you come shopping with me?’ She looked really embarrassed and dropped her eyes. ‘I have to get some new clothes, and I’m sick of the way I look. Will you help me?’

‘No worries,’ I said. She looked relieved and I really felt like I belonged.

That Saturday we caught the bus to a huge, multistorey shopping plaza that had a major department store at each end. The first time Mum had taken me there I’d been a real tourist, gasping over all the big-name designer clothing and shoe shops. We’d spent an entire day there, stopping every couple of hours for a coffee; at lunchtime we had vegetarian crepes in the food hall, and another coffee later at Gloria Jeans. I figured today was going to be another marathon shopping day — Tamara’s beauty overhaul.

‘Do you have any idea what you’d like?’ I asked as we sat wedged into the bus seat together. She obviously wanted a change from the oversized men’s jeans and rugby tops she normally wore.

‘Nah.’ She looked sad. ‘I’ll leave it up to you.’

Jemima and Sukey were meeting us at Maccas for lunch. Tamara wanted to get the shopping done before then. We went into Sportsgirl, which had some great jeans and some really cool tops. Since we’d moved to the city my wardrobe had more than doubled. There were so many clothes to buy, and Mum, as if she was making up for the last ten years of limited choice, was giving me plenty of money to buy stuff.

I was enjoying being out shopping with a friend. It was the first time I’d done anything like this since arriving in Perth. But as I went through the racks, Tamara was standing back looking more and more uncomfortable. I pulled a pair of jeans out and showed them to her.

‘What about these?’ I asked.

‘Whatever you reckon,’ she said without looking at them.

I didn’t want to ask her size; that’s why she hated shopping. She’d said a few times that nothing fitted her, but I was sure she must be wrong. I thought if I found something she really liked she’d feel happier about herself.

‘Try these,’ I said, pulling out the biggest size I could find. She shrugged and took them to the change rooms. I waited and then went to the curtain.

‘Well?’ I asked.

‘Too small,’ came the muffled response.

‘I thought they looked like a small cut,’ I lied. Shit. ‘There’s another pair; hang on, I’ll get them.’

The only other pair were kind of boring, but they were an eighteen, and I thought she’d fit them. As I handed them over the curtain I saw Alice and Julie enter the shop, heading for some low cut black and white tops which I knew, and they knew, would look great on them.

‘I think I’ll try this,’ Alice said, picking one up. ‘Oh, haven’t you got a ten?’ She looked at the shop assistant.

‘No, sorry. What’s on the rack is all there is,’ she said, turning hangers the right way round.

‘Don’t worry,’ Julie said. ‘You’ll probably need a twelve anyway to cover your tits.’

‘I know,’ Alice shook her head, ‘but the problem is twelves are so huge across the back.’

They were shaking their heads, agreeing with each other how beautiful she was. They still hadn’t seen me. I was trying to blend into the fabric of the curtain.

‘Any good?’ I whispered to Tamara.

‘Nah,’ she said, ‘they’re crap.’ She pulled the curtain across to show me. They were terrible. Way too low and so tight, it looked like half of her was bulging over the top of them.

‘Not a good cut,’ I agreed as Alice and Julie rounded on us.

‘Ha,’ Alice snorted, looking at Tamara, who quickly pulled the curtain across her body. ‘I didn’t realise we were in the Big is Beautiful shop.’

I turned my back, not knowing what to say to her. Tamara looked both mortified and lethal.

‘That’s not beautiful,’ Julie said laughing loudly, ‘that’s Shrek.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Alice said sharply and Julie instantly stopped laughing. ‘She’s not green.’

And then they hung onto each other’s arms as they laughed their pretty tinkling laughter.

‘Shut up you bitch,’ Tamara snarled. I’m pretty sure that if she had been in her

own clothes, and didn’t have to give them another view of her in those too-small jeans, she would have leapt across the change rooms and ripped Julie’s throat out.

‘Dear me,’ Alice said, wiping tears from her eyes, ‘if you don’t like the way you look, stop eating.’

‘You’re such a nasty bitch,’ I said, ashamed I’d ever wanted her to like me.

‘Shut up filthy slut,’ she said, throwing the top into an empty change room and looking at me in disgust as she left the shop.

Tamara got changed and came out and found me near a rack of clothes. I was trembling and hurt. But I knew Tamara was even more hurt. It was okay for girls like Alice and Julie to laugh and make fun. Everything looked great on them.

‘Let’s try Just Jeans,’ I said, hoping to make her feel better.

‘Nah,’ she said, ‘I don’t want to. Let’s go and wait for Sukey and Jemima.’

‘But they won’t be here till twelve.’

‘So we’ll wait,’ she said, walking off.

While we waited Tamara ate two burgers and two large fries and drank two large Cokes. I sat with a Fanta, realising this was the first time I’d ever seen her eat crap. She always ate low fat, diet food.

‘My mum’s really skinny,’ she said, wiping her mouth on a napkin. ‘She’s always on at me to diet, Weight Watchers, Lite & Easy, blah, blah, blah. The more she gets on at me the fatter I get.’

‘You’re not,’ I hastily said.

‘Avalon, it’s okay. I’m fat. I can’t even fit into a pair of size eighteen jeans,’ she said. ‘I try and diet. But then something happens. I get upset and all I want to do is eat. Like now.’

‘Do you think you should talk to someone?’ I suggested, cringing as I realised that’s what Dad would have said.

‘Been there, done that. I’m just a pig. Hey Jemima,’ Tamara waved her arm, ‘over here.’

Jemima picked her way through the tables. Aside from our alliance in home room, Jemima and I didn’t talk a lot. She was painfully shy, and apart from the barbie at my house this was the first time she and I had been out anywhere together. I wasn’t as comfortable with her as I was with the others. According to Marshall, Jemima always had to go straight home after school to look after her two brothers and sister.

‘Where’s Sukey?’ I asked.

Jemima shook her head. ‘Can’t come. She texted me before. Her mum’s sick.’ I watched her and Tamara exchange a look.

‘What’s going on?’ I asked, knowing there was something they weren’t telling me.

They looked at each other again.

‘Don’t repeat this,’ Tamara said, ‘I trust you and I know you won’t tell anyone.’

I nodded my head. ‘What?’

‘Sukey’s mum’s got a bit of a drinking problem. If Sook can’t come, it means her mum’s probably pissed.’

‘Really?’ I said, thinking of the time I’d gone there and not been invited in.

‘Sook’ll have to look after her. Make sure nothing bad happens,’ Tamara said.

‘Shit,’ I said, shaking my head.

We wandered around for a bit longer, but Tamara wouldn’t set foot in any more clothing shops.

‘Nah,’ she said, ‘I’m over it now. I’ll stick with the gear I’ve got.’

I felt like I’d let her down. She looked so depressed.

‘You okay?’ I asked her.

‘I should’ve smacked that bitch in the face,’ she snapped suddenly.

‘It’s okay,’ I said, putting my hand on her arm.

‘No, it’s not.’ Tamara shook my hand off. ‘I don’t know why I didn’t, the way they laughed at me and called me Shrek. I should’ve smashed them both.’

We stood outside a jeweller’s shop, pretty diamonds winking at us. Tamara was seething. If Alice or Julie had appeared now they’d be dead. Jemima looked at her watch. ‘Gotta go,’ she said. ‘Mum’s going out tonight and I’ve got to get home for the kids.’

‘We might as well go too,’ Tamara said, ‘there’s nothing for me here.’

A New Target

It was hard to believe it had been nearly five weeks. My old world of Grace Point seemed a lifetime ago. And I’d kind of forgotten what I used to be like. I wasn’t truly happy, but I didn’t feel so desperate any more. There were still plenty of moments when I wished things were different, times when someone would sneer at me or call me a slut, but I could deal with it.

In most classes I had someone to sit with. Caleb was always my Science partner and class with him was heaps of fun. He honestly had no idea about the shit I was going through. He and his mates hung out in the gym, or if the surf was good, they’d wag class for the beach. And I was glad he didn’t know about the cyber stuff because I was starting to think he was pretty hot. Though God, I wouldn’t it it to anyone. I’d learnt to keep my mouth shut about anything I knew or felt. I was mastering the art of blending in.

Since the ugly incident with Ruby, I’d managed to keep away from the vicious websites. It was hard, a part of me ached to know. But Marshall was right — I had to ignore them completely. So with more time on my hands I started spending it with Ruby, and with that Dad and Mum both seemed to relax. Whatever doubts and suspicions they’d harboured, my re-alliance with Ruby settled them down. I imagined them thinking, ‘Avalon’s back to herself now she’s had time to adjust.’ And if that’s what they were thinking that was fine with me. I was still a bit distant, only half there, but I was trying really hard to shut off from obsessing about school and the Bitches’ hate campaign when I was home.

On the days I picked Ruby up after school we’d go to the park, not far from our house. It was a big park between the ocean and the main highway, a long rolling expanse of green lawn. There were the usual timber picnic huts and some really

awesome playground equipment. I never used it, of course, I just watched Ruby. She loved that place. When we’d get to the top of the hill she’d run ahead of me, squealing with delight. I’d watch her solid little legs pumping and I’d have to run to catch up, worried her body might outrun her feet and she’d fall arse over tit down the hill.

This day I was kicking back; I’d pulled my school skirt up to the tops of my thighs hoping to get a tan and the sun was warming my skin. Through sunglasses I watched the pedestrian traffic over by the road. It was a fair way away, a good hundred metres, but a person could never be too careful. I didn’t want to get caught off guard. And then I saw them, Alice and Julie in tight mini skirts and strapless tops. They’d obviously been home and got changed — they looked like a pair of whores. I pulled my own skirt down to cover my knees and shrank back into the timber hut. They’d stopped and were lighting a cigarette each. The timber slats dug into my back and then Alice turned and stared straight at me. I let out a gasp as I realised it wasn’t Alice at all.

I was trying to check out the other girl, who wasn’t Julie, when I heard a scream. It was Ruby. I’d know her scream anywhere. I jumped up, heart pounding, and ran towards the play equipment. She was running straight at me, hair in her eyes, tears rolling down her bright red cheeks. I dropped to the ground in front of her and grabbed both her arms.

‘What happened?’ I shouted, panicking. I scanned her body for any sign of injury. Had she fallen? Dad would kill me.

‘That boy,’ she cried, between big breaths, pointing back at the play equipment, ‘he, he pull me air.’

‘He did what?’ I said, wiping her tears away with the side of my hand.

‘Pulled my hair.’ She tugged the little ponytail on top of her head to demonstrate.

I looked at the chubby kid in the black and yellow striped top on the climbing frame. He was at least a year older than Ruby and he was making threatening gestures to another little kid who was trying to climb to the top.

‘Who, him?’ I asked, pointing to the over-ripe bumble bee.

She nodded, clutching at her hair. ‘Owwww, owwww,’ she moaned.

You nasty little shit, I thought, stalking over to him. There were no mothers around, only a bored looking ten-year-old girl swinging back and forth on the swing.

‘You,’ I shouted, pointing my finger at him. ‘Come here.’

He looked frightened and shook his head, disappearing into a red plastic tunnel. I took the ladder in two steps and crouched in front of the tunnel. He was within my reach. I grabbed hold of his black, gelled-up fringe and yanked it really hard. Right at the roots.

‘How’d you like that?’ I snapped as his eyes filled up with tears. ‘You little shit head.’

And then I jumped off the frame into the soft white sand and grabbed hold of Ruby’s hand.

‘C’mon,’ I said to my little sister who was looking at me with iration, ‘let’s go.’

‘Va Va,’ she said as we hurried out of the park, ‘you me best friend.’

I didn’t have the great social life I wanted. There were no parties or sleepovers to go to. Sukey and Jemima always had to be home for their different reasons and Tamara wasn’t into that sort of thing. Marshall and I spent the most time together, but it wasn’t really weekend stuff. It was just another aspect of my leftout lifestyle. When the kids at school talked about the weekend it hit me hard — all those things I was missing out on. There was a river cruise coming up and it was creating a major buzz — everyone was talking about who was going with who, and what they were wearing. It was like a Year Ten Ball — some girls were even going to the hairdressers especially for the occasion. Marshall was keen that we go, but even though it was exactly the type of thing I desperately wanted to do, I was worried. I felt we still needed to keep a low profile, not draw any more attention to us.

‘No,’ Marshall said, tying my shoelaces together. ‘We should go. Stuff them.’

I pulled at the knots he’d made and glanced across at Alice and the Bitches sitting on the benches on the other side of the stand. She’d backed off from me at hockey practice — either she was losing interest in cracking my shins or her game had improved. ‘But things are just starting to settle down,’ I said.

‘Ignoring it has worked,’ he agreed, ‘but you can’t make yourself invisible.’

I shrugged. I really wanted to go on the river cruise and I kind of hoped Caleb might ask me. But he hadn’t mentioned it and it probably wasn’t really his scene anyway.

‘You can be my partner,’ Marshall offered. Sometimes it was like he read my mind.

‘Okay,’ I said, ‘let’s do it.’

The tickets went on sale the following Tuesday, causing intensified interest in who was taking who, and which popular couples had split or made up. But by lunchtime Marshall still hadn’t turned up at school.

‘Was he in home room?’ I asked Sukey.

‘No, he must be sick,’ she said around her meat pie dripping with sauce.

‘Actually, I thought he looked a bit pale yesterday,’ said Jemima.

‘He’s sick,’ said Tamara, looking up from her diet yoghurt. ‘I saw him on the way home yesterday and he said he wasn’t feeling well.’

I rang his house when I got home from school. He hadn’t replied to any of my texts and I wanted to make sure he was okay. The phone rang and rang. I imagined it echoing in an empty house. His mum worked night shift, she was a nurse and his dad had moved out years ago. I’d been to Marshall’s a few times, after school.

One day I had been sitting in his bedroom, looking at the stuff on the walls. It actually surprised me. I don’t know what I expected to see — pictures of half naked guys? — I dunno, I’d never known a gay guy before. But there weren’t any. He had pictures of cars and motorbikes on the wall. He was hanging out to get his bike licence — he didn’t care for a car, he just wanted to go really fast. His room was like the room of any other teenage guy. I didn’t like to comment because I didn’t want him to think I was judging him.

‘So where’s your dad?’ I asked.

‘Up north.’ He looked up from the magazine he was reading. ‘My brother Ellis is with him too. He went with Dad, I stayed with Mum.’

‘That must have been hard,’ I said, thinking about how I wouldn’t cope if my parents ever got divorced and Ruby and I were separated.

‘Not really, you get used to it. I’ve got my own bathroom, I don’t have to share. And once a year I go and visit Dad and Ellis at the mine site.’ He was smiling. ‘Actually it’s pretty cool.’

‘Right,’ I said, thinking about how together he was. Nothing ever fazed Marshall.

The phone was still ringing. I was sure it was going to ring out when it was finally picked up on the other end. I waited for a greeting.

There was a shuffling noise and then silence.

‘Hello?’ I said.

There was more shuffling and then I heard his voice. ‘Avalon?’ He sounded blocked up with a really bad head cold.

‘Marshall!’ I was relieved; something had felt so wrong but now I was talking to him I felt reassured. ‘How you doing? You sick?’

‘Really sick,’ he snuffled.

‘Dad’s got some natural remedies, I’ll bring them over. They worked really well on Mum when she had this hideous flu, stuffed up, like you sound. You have to take them every fifteen minutes and honestly you’ll start to feel better really quickly.’ I was talking fast and laughing. But he was silent. ‘Oh yeah, I bought the tickets to the river cruise, so I guess I’m taking you,’ I knew that would cheer him up. There was no sound from the other end of the phone. Had the line gone dead? ‘Marshall, you still there?’

‘Yeah,’ he said. He sounded thick with mucus and tears. Was he crying?

‘Marshall, what is it?’ I felt a coldness creep up the back of my neck.

‘It’s me,’ he said, and he was crying, ‘they’re doing it to me.’

After I hung up the phone, my head full of tears and all the feelings I had been trying to repress over the last few weeks, I numbly flicked open my laptop. There was a thin layer of dust on the surface of the screen. I hadn’t even used it for my homework, terrified that if I even turned it on the urge to read the shit would overwhelm me and I’d be sucked back in. I wiped it with my hand, my fingerprints cutting a swathe through the greyness. As it ran through the start-up I could see my pale face reflected in the black background. Why was this happening again? Now they’d moved on to Marshall, who’d be next?

I felt guilt gripping my guts as my old friends anxiety and fear swirled within me. There were 246 unread messages in my email . I opened the page and sent 243 of them to the trash can, with their pornographic names and subjects that made my skin prickle in revulsion. I left three. One was from Sukey with our English assignment attached. One was from Dragon Girl and the other was from Marshall.

I opened Dragon Girl’s email:

From: dragongirl Sent: Tuesday, 7 March 3.56pm To: [email protected] Subject: your friends

Dear Avalon You might think we’re not watching you anymore but we are. We watch you and your sick friends every day. The faggot, the lezzo, the anorexsic, the rag doll and the slut. Don’t think we’ve forgotten you. WE HAVEN’T! You want to watch out! SOMETHING BAD IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO ONE OF YOU. You bunch of discusting pervits. dragongirl

The hairs on my arms were standing on end, this was so malicious. My days away from the vileness had obviously reduced my immunity, but the threat in this email was terrifying. They wanted to scare me and they’d succeeded. I read it several times, the cursor hovering over delete. But I stopped myself. I don’t know why, but I saved it.

I opened Marshall’s email; he’d sent it that morning.

From: the marshmellow Sent: Friday, 10 March 9.55am To: [email protected] Subject: Game on

Dear Avalon It worked for a while and we can’t abandon strategy, but the target has changed. Lucky you (you had your turn and now it’s only fair one of us should have a go).

The forum I’ll direct you to has been posting messages like this for about two weeks. I didn’t say anything to you because our best line of defence has been to ignore the BITS of people. Sadly I haven’t been as strong and found myself drawn nightly to the action (like watching some sick reality TV show you know is crap but are compelled to watch).

As of yesterday, it’s gone beyond anonymous postings on a web site and is back in the school. I know who the main culprit is, he attacked me in the change rooms yesterday and I am working on a way to beat him and his mates. Never fear, all is not lost. If you want to see the latest shit to hit our fan go to the Teen Gossip Spot (Teen G Spot) and read the postings under General. You’ll know the one I’m referring to, it has about one hundred replies. See you soon Marshall.

I was chewing on my nail as I read his email. Over the last couple of weeks the skin around my fingers had healed and my hands were looking normal again. But now the nail split under my grinding teeth. I ripped it off roughly, feeling the slight pain in my nail bed. Then I sat there almost in a trance with the thin crescent in my mouth, the pointy end digging into my lower lip, as I waited for the forum to load.

Forum: General Topic: Queer Eye on the Straight Guy

Author

Topic

Concerned for my safety Has anyone noticed faggots at their school? We’ve got a group at ou

The message was dated about a week earlier and was still receiving replies. I skimmed them quickly. There were a few that told Concerned For My Safety to grow up and stop being juvenile. One reply suggested that the ‘group of sickos’ were probably just kids who were different and to cut them some slack, but the rest were nasty and vicious to the point where it became one hate letter after another.

Tears stung my eyes as I read what they wanted to do to Marshall. They wanted to kill him, give the faggot a beating he wouldn’t forget, make sure he didn’t look at any of them. The postings made it clear they were talking about him. I sat in shock and re-read them. Who were these people? Why did they hate us so much? Marshall was in danger.

I rang him straight back. My hands were shaking as I pressed the numbers. He picked it up on the first ring.

‘You read them?’ he said quietly.

‘Who is it?’ I asked.

He was silent. I waited. I heard him breathing. He wasn’t going to tell me. I needed to know who it was.

‘Marshall. Who attacked you?’ I said, trying not to sound hysterical.

‘It’s okay,’ he said finally. ‘I’ve got it under control. I will tell you. I promise. But I need to do something first.’

‘Marshall, we have to do something. You can’t do it alone,’ I said. ‘This is ridiculous.’

‘No worse than what you’ve been through,’ he said flatly.

‘It is Marshall, they’re threatening you. This is really serious. I think we should talk to someone.’ I wanted him to see reason.

‘No way Av,’ his voice lifted angrily. ‘What do you think will happen to me then? I’ll be dead meat.’

‘But Marshall — ’

He cut me off. ‘ Av, how you didn’t want anyone to know — why? That’s how I feel.’ I could hear his voice breaking again. ‘Promise me.’

I was silent. I of all people knew exactly how he felt, but my bullying was only name-calling; his was a physical threat. I thought they were different.

‘Avalon, promise me,’ he demanded.

‘I promise,’ I whispered.

I sat in my room thinking about him. I knew exactly how he was feeling. Frightened, hurt, alone. I wanted to go over there but Mum and Dad had a teacher-parent night at their school and I couldn’t leave Ruby. I’d asked him to come to my house but he wouldn’t. He made up some excuse about his Mum’s shift work. Not that that’s ever stopped him before. And it really bothered me. He didn’t sound right. I knew he was feeling attacked, and definitely threatened. But something had changed in him. His voice and the things he said were all wrong. This wasn’t Marshall who didn’t give a shit about what people thought of him. This wasn’t how I thought he’d deal with it. He wouldn’t tell me what had happened to him in the change rooms and my over-active imagination went on a marathon run that night. What had they done to him to make him sound like this? Where did all this hate come from? Who were they? Why wouldn’t he tell me? After midnight the night horrors came back to me.

Liverpool Kiss

He was at school the next day; I waited out the front for him. He was late, the siren had gone and we walked together through the deserted yard to home room. His face was white and he had massive black bags under his eyes. I asked him again who was behind it all but he wouldn’t tell me.

‘Later Avalon,’ he said. ‘I need to sort a few things out first.’

His secrecy surprised me. Marshall was never normally like that. I thought we pretty much told each other everything. I didn’t know who he was protecting or why. I wondered if it was because he didn’t want the others in our group knowing about it. When he didn’t turn up to the netball courts at recess I went into a panic.

‘Where is he?’ I demanded of Sukey.

She looked defensive. ‘I don’t know, I think he got kept in after Science. I’m not sure.’

I ran up to the science lab as the siren went but there was no-one there. By lunchtime I was stressing out. It was almost worse than how I’d felt when it was happening to me. But Marshall wasn’t acting like Marshall. Finally I saw him walking across the grounds towards us on the courts. I ran and met him before he came through the gate. He looked defeated and it shook me. Marshall was never defeated.

‘Hey,’ I put my arms around him, ‘you okay?’

He looked at me for the longest time and a weird thought went through my head. He wants to kiss me.

‘Yeah,’ he said finally, shaking his head, ‘it’s been a tough day.’

He seemed to snap out of it suddenly. He smiled, one of his really great smiles, and grabbed my arm.

‘Come on,’ he said, ‘show me what the hippies packed you for lunch today.’

We sat down and opened our lunchboxes. I let Marshall rifle through mine. I didn’t care what he took as long as he was himself again. I didn’t even see them coming. One minute we were talking and eating, the next minute we were surrounded.

‘Hey faggot,’ a boy called out.

I looked up in horror. There were about five of them standing behind the mesh fencing.

‘You lookin’ at us? Sick little pervert,’ another one shouted.

‘Ignore it,’ I said as Marshall dropped his eyes to the bitumen. Our favourite piece of advice — ignore it.

‘What’s going on?’ Tamara asked, looking from Marshall to me. The group of guys were still on the other side but now they’d moved right up to our corner. The biggest one stood in the gateway, blocking any escape. We were trapped.

I shook my head. Marshall wouldn’t make eye .

‘Nothing,’ he mumbled quietly.

‘Hey fag boy, you listenin’?’ The one in the gateway stepped onto the courts, it was Brett from the football team. The others remained behind the fence, their fingers through the wire holes. Brett was about a metre away from Marshall’s back.

‘Gay boy, I’m speaking to you.’ He threw an apple. It hit Marshall in the back of the head. I watched Marshall’s head snap forward like a crash test dummy. Tamara sprang to her feet.

‘You shit,’ she screamed, running at Brett.

‘Back off you fat lesbian,’ he said, putting his hands up to ward her off. But she charged straight at him and rammed him into the fence, pinning the fingers of two of his friends between the mesh and his back. They were howling and trying

to get their hands out.

‘You dickhead,’ Tamara spat in his face and then head butted him with a splintering crack.

We sat in shocked silence on the court, paralysed with fear and mesmerised by the blood that spurted from Brett’s nose. He dropped to the ground with a thud. Blood soaked his shirt. His horrified mates stood behind the fence, still holding on to the wire. Tamara stood over Brett, daring any of them to take her on. From the oval I heard, ‘Fight, fight, fight.’

And then the next minute we were surrounded in our cage by hundreds of chanting students.

‘Fight, fight, fight, fight, fight.’

A yard duty teacher pushed her way through the crowd, screaming into her walkie-talkie. I stood next to Marshall who was shivering and shaking, my own body trembling with horror. Sukey and Jemima still sat on the ground, arms around each other, crying. Several other teachers came running onto the courts, ordering the other kids off to class and preventing our group from leaving. One of the teachers crouched down next to Brett and held someone’s balled-up T-shirt to his bloodied face.

Mr Truman grabbed Tamara’s arm. She shook him off angrily.

‘You’re in big trouble,’ he growled at her. And she laughed. Really loudly, right in his face.

‘That’ll teach the fuckers,’ she said, smiling as he led her away.

The rest of us were rounded up by two other teachers.

‘Come with us,’ they said. And we followed in single file, not speaking. We were taken to the front office. I was told to sit with Marshall in the conference room. But I couldn’t stop shivering. The teacher went and got me an old grey blanket out of sick bay. I wrapped it around myself tightly, even though it was about thirty-two degrees. I was chilled to the bone.

‘You’ve got to tell them, Marshall,’ I whispered when the teacher left the room.

‘No.’ He shook his head, it was the first word he’d said. ‘Tamara won’t want me to. You and I agreed to keep it between us.’

‘But things have changed,’ I pleaded with him. ‘Surely it will help Tamara if they knew this was retaliation.’

‘I’ll tell them about the apple and the name-calling today, but nothing else,’ he whispered. He looked desperate. ‘I don’t want them to know about the rest.’

‘But Marshall — ’ I wanted it all out now, even the stuff about me. This had

gone too far, it was getting dangerous for all of us.

‘Soon, I promise,’ he looked me in the eye fiercely. ‘But don’t say anything yet. It’s all too complicated, I can’t explain. But it’ll be all right.’

I nodded my head but I thought we were doing the wrong thing.

The Walls Start Crumbling

The duty teacher told us through thin lips that Tamara was going to be formally charged by the police for assault. She was also going to be excluded. We were then separated and I had to wait for my home room teacher.

I sat waiting for Miss Mac thinking about how much trouble we were in now. My parents were bound to find out about this. How would I be able to hide it? And then what? Dad would get the rest of the stuff out of me. My stomach rolled and twisted. I tried to control my panic as Ms McKenzie entered the room. She looked really stressed out. She pulled out the chair opposite me and dropped her files down heavily on the table.

‘Talk to me, Avalon,’ Ms McKenzie said, and she looked so concerned, not like some teachers who just do their job. I knew she was worried about me. ‘Tell me why?’

I couldn’t speak. The why was enormous. I knew all the reasons but I wasn’t allowed to say them.

‘You know why, Miss Mac,’ I said, looking at the old coffee rings on the conference room table. ‘Tamara was sticking up for Marshall.’

‘But to use such force?’ She wasn’t convinced.

‘She’s a lot stronger than she thinks,’ I said, looking up.

Ms McKenzie was watching me closely. And it freaked me out. She was like Dad, sniffing around for the truth.

‘What?’ I snapped, annoyed.

‘Talk to me. If something’s going on you can trust me, Avalon.’

She knew, I could tell. Here was the opportunity to get help. I threw my head back and looked at the ceiling. Maybe it was all over.

‘One of my best friends is going to be kicked out for breaking a boy’s nose,’ I said irritably, deciding, in that split second, not to tell her. What would she be able to do? Call in Mum and Dad? Have Alice and the Bitches suspended? Get me and my mates executed? Because that’s what would happen. No way! ‘Of course something’s going on.’

She watched me sadly. Still waiting. The silence was oppressive. I stared sullenly out the window. Outside

I heard Fisher’s whistle and shouting from the playing fields. ‘Go on, you can do it!’

‘I want to organise a parent interview,’ she said finally, opening her diary and

filling in an interview request slip.

‘Why?’ I asked, alarmed. I didn’t want Mum and Dad here. This wasn’t my fault. ‘I was an observer, this had nothing to do with me.’

‘I think it’s time I met your parents Avalon. It’s halfway through the term and I think we should touch base,’ she said smiling. I hated that term touch base, it sounded so try-hard.

‘Whatever,’ I snapped, pissed off with her. ‘Can I go now? It’s home time.’

‘Sure,’ she said, seemingly unperturbed by my rudeness. She handed me the slip. ‘Have your parents respond to the note in your diary by home room tomorrow.’

I roughly pushed my chair back and deliberately screwed the slip up in my hand as I slammed out of the room.

I ran outside. Class had been let out and the lawns were covered in white and blue figures, walking towards the school’s perimeter. I couldn’t see Marshall. I walked briskly through the gardens. Over in the ‘Kiss and Drive’ I saw Dad’s battered Ford, but I didn’t want to go to him. I needed to find my friends. We needed to corroborate our stories, get everything straight before tomorrow — not that we had done anything wrong. Yet it felt like we had. I thought I saw Sukey, but it wasn’t her: she wasn’t skinny enough to be Sook. Dad hooted the horn. I pretended to ignore it. Everyone looked the same. They were all so uniform. Dad hooted again and flashed his headlights. People were watching. I couldn’t see anyone I knew. I walked towards the car, still looking for the others.

‘Daddy’s little girl,’ someone jeered.

‘I hear she’s got a special relationship with Daddy,’ another said, louder. I turned and looked; it was a boy, about a year younger than me. He’d formed a circle with his thumb and forefinger and was thrusting the finger of his other hand in and out of it.

‘Fuck off,’ I spat, knowing Dad was watching and could hear me. The boy sneered and gave me the finger before he walked away.

‘What was that all about?’ Dad asked as I threw my bag into the car.

‘Nothing,’ I muttered, slamming the door so hard the window vibrated. I looked out the window for Marshall, Sukey or Jemima.

‘You don’t speak like that.’ Dad gripped the steering wheel hard. He sounded like he was trying to control his anger. ‘I can’t believe it, Avalon. What’s with the foul language?’

‘So what,’ I snapped, staring him in the eyes. ‘Who cares what I say? They’re a pack of dickheads anyway.’

‘Avalon!’ Dad stomped on the brake, almost putting my head through the windshield. ‘We need to have a serious talk when we get home. What’s happening to you?’ He was looking at me horrified that I’d become one of the

surly and apathetic teenagers he was used to dealing with.

But I wouldn’t look at him. I stared out the window and rubbed my sore neck.

Silent Words

I was sent to my room to think things over while Dad filled Mum in on my use of foul language in the schoolyard. It made me want to laugh — I was in serious trouble for swearing, yet all these kids could go around doing and saying what they liked without any consequences. My life sucked. I sat at my desk and looked at the screen saver. I felt the urge to know building inside. What was going to happen to us as a result of today’s attack? If Marshall was right we were going to be in serious shit. My hand operated on its own and opened the forum page on the teen site.

Forum: General Topic: asking for trouble

Author

Topic

Straight guy today my mate got his nose broken by a fat lesbian. What’s happening when nor

Post a reply Replies

Author

Topic

Waverider

Mate I reckon you’re the one with serious issues! Gays aren’t interested in str

Troubled Teen I think fags and lezzos should have a school of their own and stay outta schoo

It was a battlefield of words, the straight teens threatening physical harm on all gays and lesbians they saw. The replies were being posted as I watched, one after the other, from both sides. I watched like a horrified spectator, too stunned to even contribute. And then suddenly my bedroom door opened and Dad was there. I quickly hit the minimise button.

‘Come downstairs, Avalon,’ he said. He looked really disappointed with me.

I sat at the kitchen table drumming my fingernails against the timber. Mum offered to make me a decaf coffee, even though she and Dad were drinking red wine, the real stuff, not that pretend alcohol-free wine they usually drank. I shook my head. They were preparing. In our house, obscene language is a capital offence, along with murder. We were at Category 1.

‘We’re worried about you Avalon,’ Mum said, holding my hands. I looked at her tired face. It had been a hard shift for all of us, including Mum, who had taken on a huge responsibility. ‘You haven’t been yourself and we’re worried something’s not right.’

I didn’t know what to say. I squinted at her and I know how I appeared to them, sullen and angry. I was frightened everything was about to pour out, and I’d break Marshall’s trust and the bonds of our group.

‘Do you like your new school?’ Mum asked.

I nodded my head, but it was heavy and about three times bigger than normal. I

couldn’t control it and it bounced like a nodding dog on the back of a ute. I wanted to speak, but my jaw was wired shut and all the words were stuck, piled up, one on top of the other, in the back of my throat, their letters tangled into each other.

‘Please Avalon, talk to us.’ Dad sat down next to Mum and he wasn’t angry with me, he looked frightened. ‘Why won’t you speak?’

I wanted to tell him I was trying but the words were all ravelled up and the pressure of them was splitting the wire around my jaw. I felt like my gigantic head was about to burst. If I could have I would’ve run out of the room.

The pressure was enormous. But I knew the weight of my head would make me fall over.

‘I CAN’T TAKE IT ANY MORE!’

My words shattered the stillness of the house. They ricocheted off the walls. They pierced my Dad’s eyes. I watched him flinch against their pointed ends. In the distance I heard Ruby crying. I sat motionless, my mouth still half wired shut, watching the words fly around the kitchen.

‘I THINK I’M GOING FUCKING CRAZY!!’

I watched as those words lifted Mum out of her chair. I saw them sting her eyes and make her cry. Her wooden chair hit the tiled floor with a hollow crack as she

flew around the table like a bird with her wings opened wide. I was silently watching my parents, like puppets, jumping and dancing to these words that shifted the balance.

‘I can’t take it any more,’ I cried into my mum’s neatly ironed white shirt, ‘I can’t handle it any more.’

And then I really couldn’t speak. I just cried and cried and emptied myself of all the poison the kids at school had filled me with.

Later, when I’d calmed down and Dad had given me Bach Remedy drops, I began to explain what had been going on. Mum had put Ruby in front of the telly in her room and we’d moved into the lounge room. I sat on the couch opposite them. I started with the events of the day and then tried to work backwards. But Mum and Dad were getting confused, though they seemed frightened to interrupt me in case I shut up again. But I wasn’t going to shut up. I was starting to feel liberated as all the bad feelings emptied out of me. I didn’t want to stop telling them. So I started again, this time from the beginning, and told it all in chronological order, from the very first day. Mum was crying by the end of it and Dad looked worn out and very sad.

‘I don’t understand why you didn’t tell us,’ he said. They’d finished the first bottle of wine and opened a second one.

‘What would you have done?’ My face was hot and my eyes were puffy. I hugged a cushion to my chest.

‘We would have explained to you why it was important to go to the school and

expose the whole cyber bullying campaign against you,’ Dad said. ‘You know bullying is a number one priority in all schools. We have resources and strategies to help tackle these problems.’

I sighed loudly and rolled my eyes.

‘You don’t get it, Dad,’ I said sniffing hard. He sounded exactly like the teacher I knew he was. ‘We don’t have faith in your resources and strategies. Teachers can bang on about rights and responsibilities but when you’re being bullied you’re so frightened of making it worse you can’t ask for help. You’re frightened of telling. You know no-one can help you anyway. So you go to school every day hoping that if you don’t draw attention to yourself it’ll stop.’

‘And did it?’ Mum asked softly.

‘I thought it had, but it hadn’t.’ I wiped away my tears thinking about Marshall. ‘I guess I was hoping it had.’

‘And the bullying was continuing — they just found another target,’ Dad said. ‘Bullies are cowards and these ones on the internet are like the Ku Klux Klan. They’ve hidden behind anonymity. Do you think if they were exposed, and everyone knew who they were, they’d continue this harassment?’

I thought about it. People like Alice and the Bitches would always bully, on their subtle level, through exclusion and body language — but on the internet? I guess Dad was right — if they were really so tough, how come none of them listed their real names?

‘Maybe,’ I shrugged, like I didn’t really believe him.

‘When you stand up to them, they usually crumble. That’s why we encourage students to tell someone. Anyone, it doesn’t matter. Bullies exist because of your fear. Most of the time they’re not really that tough when confronted,’ Mum said.

Part of me kept thinking — yeah I know all this, but it doesn’t help. Don’t you get it? But then I ed how Todd had backed down when Caleb stepped in. I’d seen his power evaporate when confronted. And I’d seen fear in Brett’s eyes on the netball court, before Tamara smashed his lights out. I knew what Mum was saying was true. I didn’t have to be violent, but I should have spoken. My silence had given them power. They had freedom to terrorise through the internet and texts because I kept my mouth shut.

‘Will you let us come to school tomorrow?’ Mum asked, ‘and see the principal.’

I thought about it for a second. I didn’t know if she was really giving me a choice. If I said no, would she wear me down until she had a ‘democratic’ decision? I didn’t answer for a while. Mum and Dad were watching me. What about Marshall and the others? Would they think I’d betrayed them? Could I lose everyone? I was really frightened by the prospect. But it was all out there now. I had to believe this wouldn’t make it worse for me. Because so far, everything I’d done had only made it worse.

‘Yes,’ I said unsurely.

Eve of Destruction

After the great confession I was completely exhausted, but I couldn’t rest. I told Mum and Dad I needed to have a shower and get changed into comfy clothes, so I left them to debrief — which I knew they would be dying to do — and went upstairs to my room. But I didn’t get undressed, I was worried about Marshall, I felt like I’d betrayed him. I needed to explain everything to him, now, before the shit hit the fan tomorrow at school. I rang his home number, but it just rang out. He hadn’t responded to any of my texts — I kept checking my phone, frightened I hadn’t heard it, but there was nothing. And as the minutes slipped by the panic started to rise. Why wasn’t he responding to me?

The skin around my nails was stinging as I chewed on them and faced my laptop. One click and the forum opened up. The topic ‘asking for trouble’ had received even more replies. My eyes skimmed the entries as bile rose in the back of my throat.

Shit.

‘Something terrible has happened,’ I was screaming before I even reached the kitchen.

Mum and Dad looked at me, both wearing the same startled expressions. Our temporary cease-fire over.

‘What is it? What’s happened?’ And as cool as she is, I heard panic in Mum’s voice.

‘You’ve got to come and see,’ I said trembling.

We gathered in front of my laptop and I jabbed my finger at the screen.

‘There, that one. Him,’ I said.

Replies

Author

Topic

Concerned for my safety FYI This is to reassure all normal people. Me and my mates fixed th

‘Oh my God, Dad, what is it? What have they done to him?’ I couldn’t help shouting.

‘Shhh,’ he said, jumping up to hold me. ‘It’s probably all bluff. I’m going round there now. Don’t panic.’

‘I’m coming too,’ I said.

‘No.’ Dad shook his head. ‘I’ll go on my own. You wait with your mother.’

Mum nodded and grabbed hold of my arm. ‘Dad’s right, honey. Wait here with me. It’ll be all right.’ I nodded my head, but I didn’t believe her. Something’s not right.

Dad was gone for over an hour. The entire time I paced the kitchen, staring out the window into the inky blackness. Every set of headlights I hoped was him. I clutched my phone tightly, praying for Marshall to call. But it was silent. Finally, Dad returned.

‘No-one home,’ he said. Mum put a cup of camomile tea in front of him. He looked exhausted.

‘Are you sure?’ I asked.

‘The place was locked up like Fort Knox,’ Dad sipped his tea. ‘I walked around the entire house, banging on the windows. Honey, he wasn’t there. He must be at a friend’s.’

‘His mum must be working,’ I said. ‘But I don’t know what hospital she’s at.’

‘I’ll go and see her in the morning,’ Dad patted my hand. But I shook my head, it didn’t seem enough.

‘It won’t do any good to call the police,’ Mum said answering my thoughts, ‘he’s not officially missing. And as far as we know he may even be with his mother.’

I couldn’t figure out where he’d be. Whose house could he be at? Why wasn’t he answering his phone?

‘I’ve got a really bad feeling,’ I said.

‘I know it’s worrying, but we’ll find him,’ Dad said, squeezing my hand.

Revelations

I couldn’t sleep for fear. I sat up for hours worrying about Marshall and what the next day would bring. And I heard lots of movement in the house. I don’t think my parents got much sleep either.

Now I felt like an informant. I led the way across the school grounds, Mum and Dad a little way behind me. I kept checking out who was around me, watching what I was up to. It was enough to make me want to vomit. I kept hoping I’d see Marshall, but I didn’t. I didn’t see one person I knew. I went ahead and opened the door. Mum and Dad went to the counter. I sank down into a fat, padded chair, still nervously looking around.

‘I’m Mr Maloney,’ Dad said, ‘and this is Mrs Maloney. We need to speak to either the Principal or Deputy.’

‘Oh, you’ve come in,’ the secretary sounded surprised. ‘We’ve been trying to phone you.’

I watched Dad and Mum exchange a glance.

‘Yesterday there was an incident involving our daughter Avalon and we’d like to speak to someone urgently,’ Mum said politely, in her no-nonsense way.

The secretary looked confused, she was just visible to me over the counter. ‘So

you know what happened …’ She looked my way and her voice dropped. I strained to hear what she was saying. Mum and Dad were both leaning in closer to her. I felt myself going rigid and sitting up in my chair. Mum said, ‘Oh God,’ and put her hand over her mouth, turning to look at me in horror. I leapt out of my seat, but Dad started forward and put his arms around me.

‘Where can we go?’ he asked the secretary. She came out from behind the desk, a small bird-like woman with white hair, and pointed to the same conference room I was in yesterday.

‘What’s going on?’ I looked at Mum, who was grey, her eyes filling with tears.

‘I’ll get Miss Spader,’ the secretary said, running to the school psych’s office.

‘What do we need the psych for?’ I demanded, my voice louder. Something was horribly wrong. My skin was crawling with little rivers of chills and I thought I would throw up. ‘Dad, what’s happening?’

He made me sit in a chair and crouched down in front of me. He took hold of both my hands. Mum’s hand hadn’t left her mouth. Waves of chills were running up my body, one crashing onto another like breakers on the beach. He opened his mouth to speak and I saw the words in his eyes.

‘Oh honey,’ he began sadly, but I squeezed mine tightly shut. The shivers had crept over my face, cupping it like hands, freezing it in place.

NO!

I wanted to shout. I wanted to scream. I wanted to do something, anything, to stop those next words coming out of Dad’s mouth.

‘Marshall died last night,’ he said, so gently and so, so softly.

The Scream

I opened my mouth and screamed and screamed. I screamed until my voice broke and I was coughing loudly and violently. I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was coughing blood. My lungs were burning and my throat was a trail of fire. My heart was hammering in my ears. I wanted to break something. I wanted to smash something. I wanted everything real around me to shatter into a million pieces. The earth was off its axis and I couldn’t stand up any more. Dad was trying to restrain me but I didn’t want to be touched. I was completely cold. The chills kept pulsating on the surface of my skin — behind my ear, up my arms, on the backs of my legs. I wanted to cry but the tears were all gone. I’d used them all up on myself.

Marshall died last night. Marshall died last night. MARSHALL DIED LAST NIGHT.

It was all I could hear. Dad was talking and so was Mum. Ms Spader arrived and she was trying to speak to me too. But every time they opened their mouths the same words came out.

‘Marshall died last night.’

‘Stop it,’ I screamed, but with my cracked and broken voice it sounded like, ‘Op ee.’

And suddenly it was quiet. The words were gone.

I watched them as they twirled and twisted on the light breeze, out the window.

‘She’s in shock,’ said Ms Spader to my mum. I looked at her with interest. The words had gone now. It didn’t matter any more. ‘I’ll call a doctor, I think she might need medicating.’

Broken Down

I felt like I was floating. I couldn’t feel my body. It was sheer and wispy like gossamer. I drifted and hovered. Way below me was the distant murmur of people speaking, two-dimensional voices thudding against the sides of a padded box. I didn’t have to respond to them. They didn’t know I was here. I soared high into the air and wafted down again like a feather. Their words were wrapped in cotton wool, muffled and fluffy on the edges. I didn’t hear them and they couldn’t hurt me.

When I awoke I was in my bedroom. I rubbed at my eyes and in the stillness I heard someone move next to me. A cool hand rested gently on my forehead. There was a soft ‘Avalon?’ and the hand moved to my cheek. The with my flesh made me flinch. My cheek was a raging ball of fire against the cool gentleness of the hand. I shut my eyes against the touch. Lurid colours streaked behind my eyelids.

‘No,’ I screamed. The word echoed in the emptiness of my head. But out in the room my voice was tiny and weak. I’d broken it. The hand moved to my forehead again, pressing gently and insistently.

‘Doyle?’ the wool-coated voice said. ‘I think she’s waking.’

Another hand, not so cool, but larger and heavy, touched my face.

‘She’s hot,’ the deep muffled voice said. And then the two voices wrapped themselves in the sound of soft synthetic fabric and the colours inside my eyelids

blended into blackness.

I was very thirsty. Automatically I reached for the glass of water next to my bed. My hand hit little metallic blister packs of pills, jars of cream and several bottles of Dad’s natural remedies. I sat up stiffly and rested my back against the headboard of my bed. My body ached. Daylight was coming through the crack in the curtains and my room gave off a purple hue. Mum was asleep in the oversize lounge chair. They must have brought it to my room the day before. I ed back to how I cracked up at school and the doctor gave me a shot. My mouth was dry and I needed a drink. I wriggled to reach the bottle of water on the floor and Mum woke. She sat up with a crease mark from the bedspread zigzagging her face, and stretched painfully.

‘Hi,’ she said quickly, reaching over to touch my face. ‘You okay?’

And the minute I heard those words I ed the others.

Marshall died last night.

Oh God!

I looked at Mum in horror. My hand flew to my mouth. I didn’t want to speak when words were so damaging, but silence was deadlier. I nodded my head. My eyes filled with tears.

‘Marshall?’ I said his name, but my voice didn’t sound like my own. It was

scratchy and hoarse.

‘Shhhhh,’ she said, stroking my face. But I knew I had to say it. I had to know it was real.

‘He’s dead.’ I dropped my head and the tears dripped off my face. Mum was crying too. She was a mirror of my pain.

‘Oh Mum,’ I cried. And we sat on the bed, arms around each other, crying for my friend Marshall.

The Awakening

I’d slept for four days. When the doctor arrived at school they’d had to sedate me. Dad said I’d become quite demented, screaming about it all being my fault. I’d kept shouting, ‘It’s too late, too late.’ They’d considered putting me in hospital, but both Mum and Dad thought I’d be better at home. The doctor had come around each day. I fell in and out of consciousness, and became really sick, with a raging fever, chills and sweats. Dad said my nervous system had gone into complete shutdown with the shock of Marshall’s death.

‘What happened? How did he die?’ I whispered. I was curled up in the big lounge chair that had been shifted back into the living room. I was wearing a tracksuit and felt like an invalid, completely and utterly weak. Hollowed out and empty.

Dad crouched down next to me and held my hands. Tiny lines creased the sides of his face, he’d never looked so old to me before.

‘Honey, are you sure you want to know?’

‘Yeah,’ I nodded my head. I didn’t want to know, I needed to know. What had they done to him?

‘From what’s been pieced together, Marshall was beaten up on the way home from school.’ Dad spoke softly, but his words were like razor blades.

‘When he got home it looks like he took his dad’s rifle out to the garage and …’ Dad’s voice dropped lower, ‘shot himself.’

I just looked at him, the lump in my throat huge. Dad’s eyes were shiny; he squeezed my knee.

‘Who found him?’ I asked. I didn’t want to imagine him dead but my mind was merciless.

‘His mum.’ Dad wiped away his tears and I knew he was experiencing her horror. ‘Her shift at the hospital finished at two in the morning. When she couldn’t find him, she went out to the garage. And, well …’

‘Was it bad?’ I whispered.

Dad was silent, but his eyes were troubled. He knew more than he was telling. My dad would know all the tiny details.

‘Yeah,’ he mumbled, squeezing my leg harder. ‘Sometimes it’s best not to know, honey. At least then you don’t have to fight to forget the images.’

I shook my head. It was too late. I’d already seen what had happened. I’d been in their garage, it was after school one day when Marshall and I were bored and had nothing to do. The garage was freestanding, white brick with a mouldy, old orange-tiled roof. It was at the very back of their garden and it faced a narrow laneway that ran like a secret tunnel behind the houses. They didn’t use the

garage for their car; it was a crammed, junky storage room. I ed Marshall heaving the door open, an old, rusty, green roller door. Halfway up it jammed. We had to duck our heads and crouch to get under it. When he flicked on the light the windowless room was bright. Old wooden chairs stood piled in the corner, their turned legs crisscrossing each other, and there was the obligatory unused home gym. Marshall had effortlessly lifted sixty kilos on the bench press, like he was trying to impress me by being macho. I ed laughing and saying, ‘Oh you’re so fit!’

In another corner stood an old nursery chair, alone and dusty. It had a high back and low arms and its seat was only a few centimetres off the floor. It was covered in faded and torn yellow floral print. Marshall had sat on it that day we rummaged through the garage, me pulling out old books and pictures, dusting them off in the bright light. It was the chair his mother used to nurse him on as a baby.

I knew that’s where he’d done it. I pictured Mrs Tate lifting up their roller door, fear in her heart, crawling underneath it. I heard her piercing screams that would have had slumbering neighbours turning on lights and running to the street — something the single gunshot, five hours earlier, had failed to do. A car backfiring, they would have said. I saw her sitting with his head in her lap, as the police and coroner’s van arrived. Too numb with the discovery to speak.

‘It’s my fault,’ I said finally, through streaming tears.

‘No it’s not,’ Dad said, wearily wiping his hand over his face. ‘What happened to Marshall is the result of a vicious campaign against you and your friends. The people responsible are being investigated by the police.’

‘The police!’ I exclaimed.

‘The school has been in quite a state of turmoil, dealing with grieving students and a police inquiry,’ Dad said gently. ‘I’ve already spoken to the cops and when you’re stronger, they’re going to want to talk to you. Okay?’

I nodded. Someone had to be held responsible. It wasn’t fair. Whenever I thought of Marshall my head would fill with tears. My best friend dead. Why? I should have done something, maybe I could have stopped this happening. If only I’d told Miss Mac, but I’d promised him to keep quiet. To be loyal. And now look.

I couldn’t handle the thought of it. He’d been so strong for me. But hadn’t been able to be strong for himself.

‘The funeral?’ I asked, part of me hoping I’d missed it but also worried that I had.

‘It’s in two days time. Do you want to go?’ Mum asked.

‘I want to,’ my words cracked again, leaking more tears.

‘If you’re not up to it …’ Dad began.

‘I have to,’ I said, as firmly as I could.

Finality

The morning of Marshall’s funeral I stood looking at all my clothes. What would I wear? And then I laughed at the absurdity of it, worrying about what to wear to a funeral. And then I laughed more because Marshall would have thought it was funny.

‘As long as you look stylish,’ he would have lisped, deliberately sounding gay.

And I picked out a bright red top and some jeans, because Marshall would never, ever have wanted me to wear black.

I hadn’t seen any of my friends since the day Tamara attacked Brett on the netball courts. They had all rung, Dad said. They were all in a bad way, particularly Sukey, who’d been friends with Marshall the longest. A bunch of flowers came from my home room, and a card, with Ms McKenzie’s neat handwriting stating Get Well Soon, signed by everyone in the form group, including Alice and the Bitches. Dad and Mum were coming with me to Marshall’s funeral, which was at Pinnaroo Cemetery. Marshall’s body was going to be cremated.

We drove down the twisting bitumen driveway at Pinnaroo. It wound through beautiful native bush of grevilleas, grass trees and tall eucalypts set in amongst neatly landscaped gardens. Dad turned into the car park in front of the funeral service room. Already people from school had arrived. Marshall was proving a lot more popular in death than he had in life. I walked between Mum and Dad, holding each of their hands, feeling weak inside. I saw Sukey, Jemima and Tamara standing together next to the doorway. I let go of Mum and Dad and

walked over to them. Jemima’s arms were wrapped around her waist; Sukey was dabbing at her eyes with a flaking tissue and Tamara stood watching the crowd, stony faced.

‘Avalon,’ Jemima said, coming to meet me. Her face was streaked with tears. We hugged tightly, then I hugged Tamara. I felt tremors in Tamara’s body.

‘You okay?’ I asked, looking at her sad, loose face.

‘No,’ she said, and for the first time her voice was soft. ‘I’ll never be okay again.’

Sukey was grief-stricken. I squeezed her hand. ‘Come on, let’s go in.’

Her grip tightened in mine and she looked about to speak. ‘What?’ I asked.

‘Nothing,’ she said, looking away.

We sat in the front row. I went up to Marshall’s mum, a woman so damaged she looked like she might shatter into a thousand pieces. She hugged me tightly.

‘I know what you were going through,’ she said as a tear dripped down her nose. ‘He told me everything.’ She shook her head and the tear flicked through the air. ‘I knew he wasn’t happy. You’d think he’d have talked about feeling suicidal, but he didn’t. He bottled that up inside. I thought I knew everything he was

feeling, but I didn’t, you see.’ She wiped the tears away and offered me a fresh tissue from the packet in her hand. As I took one she clutched hold of my hand. ‘We’ll talk later.’

Marshall’s coffin was carried in by the pallbearers, all family . His dad and his brother Ellis were the first two. His brother, a bigger version of Marshall, made my heart lurch. They looked so alike. I looked at the wooden box and saw behind its golden rails and polished wooden walls my Marshall lying in there. Dead. Laid out stiffly and cold in a newly bought suit. We’d never talk together any more, I’d never see the corners of his eyes turn up as he laughed, or hear the softness of his voice as he comforted me or one of my friends. He was gone now. Gone forever. It was final.

Marshall’s mother stood at the podium. She cleared her throat and looked around the room. I was finding it difficult to control the wail that threatened to burst out of me. Around me I could hear sniffles and sobs. I looked towards the back of the room. The building was full and people were spilling out into the reception area outside. It looked like the whole of Year Ten had turned up, and heaps of teachers and staff sitting sombrely at the back.

‘I would give everything I own not to be standing here today,’ Marshall’s mother began. ‘Today I live every parent’s nightmare and bury my baby.’ She stopped and wiped at her eyes. I sniffed hard and swallowed deeply, trying to control my breathing. I didn’t want to break down again. Dad tightened his grip on my shoulders.

‘My son was a beautiful and happy boy,’ she continued, telling the story of Marshall as a child, a version of Marshall I would never know. ‘And then in high school things were different. He changed, and withdrew. He lost his excited, extroverted nature. He saw he was different to other kids, other boys his age.’ She looked directly at the group of twenty or so guys standing self-consciously at the back of the room. ‘He was made to feel different, to feel uncomfortable

with the person he was, and he struggled daily with this. You’ll never know the horror of watching someone you love die slowly in front of your eyes. Marshall started losing his love for life when the bullying began in Year Eight — and it continued mercilessly for the next two years. But he did find comfort in his group of friends,’ she looked at us and smiled through tears, her lip quivering, ‘who never judged him and accepted him for who he was.’

She paused and breathed deeply. I had to look away from her and stare out the window at the native bush outside, trying to block out her words. Her pain was overwhelming me. I was frightened of cracking.

‘He was so excited about today. Tonight he was going on a river cruise and he had a date. For the first time, he was going out with a girl.’

I looked back at her, the river cruise was tonight? She smiled at me again. I let out a small whimper. Dad’s hand tightened again on my shoulders.

‘But that wasn’t enough to keep him going. His spirit and hope were finally shattered.’

She paused and wiped her eyes again. Around me people moved uncomfortably in their seats, sniffling and with the occasional sob. My face was wet and I was still trying to control my breathing. The air was thick with emotion and tension.

She took a deep breath. ‘You people know who you are and the things you did to my son that drove him to this desperate act and you will have to live with that knowledge forever.’ Her voice cracked on the final word, and Ellis jumped up, put his arms around her and took her back to her seat.

We were given the opportunity to say goodbye before the casket was sent down to the crematorium. I followed the family up to the front. A framed picture of a smiling Marshall beamed down at me from the top of the coffin. I placed my yellow rose on the shiny surface next to it and whispered, ‘Goodbye.’

I touched the cool wood, the moist outline of my fingertips visible for a second before it evaporated. Behind me the line of mourners stretched out the doorway. They lined up with tears streaming down their faces to say goodbye to a boy they hadn’t even known. I watched the popular boys wipe tears — of regret, fear, maybe even shame — from their cheeks as they whispered their apologies to Marshall. And I wondered what Marshall would have thought.

A Person of Interest

I was completely numb when I returned to school. Mum and Dad weren’t convinced I was ready but I had to go back. It wasn’t even that I needed to face my foes: I had the distinct impression they had already been felled. Marshall’s death had certainly ended the cyber bullying campaign against us; I’m sure that not even the worst of them had predicted this outcome.

After Marshall’s funeral we’d gone back to his mum’s house for tea and biscuits. Not all the people from the funeral had turned up, but I was surprised by how many kids from school did. It was painful and surreal, being in his house without him. And worse was the knowledge that I’d never be in his house with him again. I sat on the couch, squished between Tamara and Sukey, watching people make their way up to Marshall’s mum and offer their condolences. She stood next to the buffet, a thin dark wisp of a woman squeezing hands and kissing cheeks, the handful of tissues never far from her reddening nose and weeping eyes.

‘If she knew what some of them had said, do you think she’d be so nice?’ Tamara growled, her voice breaking.

I shook my head. It was easy to hate them all.

Everything was familiar yet distorted as I viewed the school through changed eyes. When I walked across the grounds I didn’t feel fear any more. I’d seen the way the kids had changed at the funeral: their power and control had vanished. I didn’t want to move schools. We had that conversation the night before my return. Dad thought it might be better for me to go to another school, where the

wounds wouldn’t seem so raw, the memories so fresh. But the concept of starting over again filled me with a sense of dread. If I did that, then what was all this for? Why did I endure weeks of torture and the death of my friend, just to go somewhere else? No, I felt confident walking into the familiar surroundings, and strangely powerful, as if I had defeated the machine that had tried to bring me down.

When I walked into home room I was regarded warily by the other students. Most didn’t know what to say to me. When I looked up and caught someone watching me they’d give an apologetic smile and drop their eyes. They were being careful about me. It almost made me want to laugh out loud. These people who weeks ago couldn’t have given a shit about my feelings, who revelled in making me miserable, were now treating me gently and sympathetically.

I was sitting next to Jemima when Alice stopped in front of my desk. I’d seen her come in and looked away. Now I smelt her fragrance — the perfumed crocodile.

‘Avalon,’ she said softly. I looked up and her big, green eyes were shiny with tears. She looked pale and unwell. ‘I just wanted to say how sorry I am about what happened to Marshall.’

I could feel my lip curling into a sneer. I wanted to punish her and make her cry. I wanted to smash her face in. I wanted her to feel what it was like.

‘I bet you are, you bitch,’ I spat. ‘It must be difficult to sleep at night with what you’ve done,’ and I turned away. Out the corner of my eye I saw her sit with her group of friends. Julie leaned across the desk to whisper to her, but Alice put her hand up to stop her and turned to the window. She was trying not to cry. It should have made me happy — score one for us Marshall — but it didn’t. It

actually made me feel strangely empty.

Ms McKenzie entered the room in her usual buoyant way. She knew I was back and her eyes searched for me immediately. She smiled when she saw me and came over.

‘Glad to see you back,’ she said, putting her arms round me. In the warmth of her embrace I felt remorse. If only I’d confided in her, this might never have happened. Sadness welled up again.

‘We’ve got an assembly this morning. It might be a bit tough; if you want to wait it out in the library you can.’

‘No that’s okay, I’ll come.’ I had to know what was going on.

As we left our room to go to the gym for the assembly Caleb was next to me. He grabbed hold of my arm.

‘You okay?’ he asked, his washed-out blue eyes searching mine for the truth.

I shook my head.

‘If you want to talk, or you want someone to sit next to, that’s okay,’ he nodded.

‘Thanks,’ I said gratefully.

As it was I sat next to Jemima and Sukey. Tamara hadn’t been excluded, but she was suspended during the investigation. We sat huddled together near the back, in case any of us needed to leave. I wasn’t sure what the assembly was about but I was starting to feel anxious as the principal walked in. There was complete silence as he went to the microphone.

‘As you are aware, we have suffered the loss of a Year Ten student who took his own life. The school has made psychologists and counsellors available to students who need to talk about their feelings of loss and all staff are aware of the importance of keeping these communication lines open. Over the next few weeks our school focus is on bullying, and in classrooms we will be workshopping strategies and techniques we can use to promote a policy of zero tolerance on bullying.

‘To this end, we have a criminal matter that needs investigating. I am now going to hand the mike over to Senior Constable Adams.’

The principal stepped backwards and sat on a vacant seat next to the deputies. I listened to the nervous shuffling of the students and saw looks being ed around. Three police officers entered the room and stood in front of the assembly. Senior Constable Adams was a huge man, about six foot four, with a deep baritone voice. One of the student councillors ran to the microphone stand and extended it as far as it could go.

‘Good morning,’ Adams thundered, and several students automatically returned the greeting. There was a light spattering of nervous laughter. When it was silent he spoke again.

‘I have the sad task of leading an investigation into the death of Marshall Tate, your fellow student. Our investigation has led us to believe Marshall’s suicide was a direct result of the cyber stalking he was subjected to.’

There was a murmur in the room. There actually were students for whom this was news, who hadn’t been part of the hate campaign.

‘New legislation has amended the Crime Act’s definition of stalking to include digital means, namely,’ and he pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket, ‘emails, manipulating another’s operating system and the publishing of offensive material.’

He stopped reading and looked around the hall, threatening with his authority. ‘Posting false information about a person, impersonating another person in chat sites, tracing a person’s steps through the internet, ing offensive or doctored images of a person to websites or providing personal information online are all covered in the new legislation. People found guilty of these offences can face penalties of $5000 in fines and imprisonment of up to ten years.’

The silence was uncomfortable, and people exchanged looks again.

‘We have Marshall’s personal computer and have found information relevant to our inquiry. At the moment we have a person of interest who we will be asking to assist us in our inquiries. We hope any student with relevant information will come forward and speak to one of the officers assisting the investigation.’ He took a step backwards and Deputy Principal Mrs Studman took the microphone.

‘Immediately following this assembly classes will be as normal,’ she said, holding her hand up to quieten the stirring crowd, ‘but Periods Five and Six will be an in-class workshop.’

The three of us stood to leave with everyone else when Miss Mac walked over. ‘Avalon, Mrs Studman wants to see you next period. And then you two,’ she nodded to Jemima and Sukey. I looked at Jemima, she was white.

‘It’s okay Jem,’ I said, squeezing her hand. ‘We’re not in any trouble, they just want our help.’

Jemima shook her head nervously. ‘I know, I know, I just can’t —’ she sucked back a sob, ‘I can’t stop thinking he’s dead.’

I sat with Senior Constable Adams, Ms Spader and Mum, who’d taken short leave from her school to me through this. I’d already run through the history of the campaign against me, ing as best I could the names of the websites and s.

‘Did you keep any of the emails or text messages?’ Senior Constable Adams asked.

‘Some of them, not from the beginning, I deleted those.’ I looked at Mum. ‘I was kind of hoping it’d stop. But the latest ones I did keep. Yeah.’

‘Is there anyone you suspect of being instrumental in the campaign against you?’ he asked, writing in his notebook.

‘Alice Davenport, definitely,’ I stated strongly. ‘She’s never made any secret of her dislike for me. And that would include her whole circle of friends too.’

The police officer nodded his head. ‘Alice,’ he murmured, writing her name in his notebook. ‘We’d like to go through your computer files to see if there’s anything useful there.’

I looked at Mum. She was nodding her head. ‘That’s fine,’ she said, taking his card.

When the interview was over Mum walked to the door with me. ‘Do you want to come home with me?’ she asked.

I looked around the conference room. I was exhausted. Lying on the couch watching re-runs of Friends seemed like a good option. But I still needed to find out what was happening here. I owed it to Marshall not to run away and hide.

‘No Mum, I’ll stay. See you later?’

She bent to kiss me goodbye, but obviously thought better of it. I reached over and kissed her, I didn’t care any more what anyone thought of me.

Marshall’s absence was most painful at lunchtime. We sat in our group and talked about him and the events leading up to his death. None of us was prepared for the enormity of the emptiness. He had been so full of life, cheering us up, making stupid jokes, imparting the latest gossip, always harmless, never nasty. We hadn’t been aware of his depression. He’d kept it well hidden from all of us. In fact he always appeared the opposite, up-beat and happy, conveying to us the idea that nothing would bring him down.

‘I had no idea,’ Sukey said. ‘He was always so strong and positive.’

‘Stuff the lot of them, he’d say,’ I said quietly. Even while we were talking about him, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t get my head around what had happened. We were quiet for a while.

‘He knew who the ringleader was,’ I told Sukey and Jemima. ‘He was planning something — I don’t know what — but he was going to expose them.’

‘Who was it?’ Jemima asked, her eyes wide.

‘I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me. He wanted to do something first.’ I shook my head, uselessly wishing I’d pushed him more on it. ‘But if the cops have got his laptop there’ll probably be something on it to give them a clue.’

‘I hope so,’ said Sukey, wiping her tears. ‘He didn’t deserve this.’

I kept thinking about the funeral, and Mrs Tate — what had she meant about the

river cruise? She’d made it sound like a date, but Marshall and I were going as mates, weren’t we?

‘He asked me to go on the cruise with him,’ I told Jemima and Sukey. I was frowning, thinking it through, ‘but he wouldn’t have meant it like a boyfriend thing, would he?’

Jemima was shaking her head, but Sukey wouldn’t look at me.

‘Sukey?’ I was confused. I hadn’t got it so wrong, had I?

‘I don’t know,’ she said, wiping tears away with the back of her hand. It kept hitting me in waves, the reality of it all. Marshall was dead. I wouldn’t ever speak to him again, or ask him how he felt. I couldn’t believe it. Their meanness had killed him.

‘I hate that bitch,’ I said angrily. ‘It’s all her fault. If she hadn’t started this, none of it would have happened.’

‘Alice,’ Jemima spat, nodding her head.

‘I can’t wait till the cops trace her to Dragon Girl,’ I rubbed at the tears in my eyes. ‘Then she’ll suffer for what she did to Marshall.’

I looked at them both, we were in so much pain. It wasn’t fair. Tears streamed

down Sukey’s face and she was inconsolable, her skinny body heaving. I fought back my own tears and it suddenly hit me. Maybe she’d fancied Marshall.

‘Sukey,’ I reached over and touched her hand, ‘did you like him?’

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, but she couldn’t even speak. She just sobbed and sobbed.

That afternoon during English period we had a workshop on identifying different types of bullying, as well as strategies to stop it and those involved. We were in groups of four, and Sukey and I were seated with Alice and Todd. Weeks ago, having to work with those two would have given me heart palpitations. But today it was different. They were nervous. I looked at Sukey; she felt it too, the power balance had shifted.

We were brainstorming ideas on a large piece of paper. I had the texta and as the self-appointed scribe I was also leading the discussion. I wrote BULLYING in large letters and circled it, then I looked at the group .

‘What do you think constitutes bullying?’ I said, like the teacher my parents had been moulding from day one. Banishing the painful memories, I stared at them stonily.

The other two were silent but Sukey volunteered, ‘Name calling.’ She glared at Alice.

‘Spreading lies and rumours,’ Alice said softly without making eye . I couldn’t comment, I just wrote her words down. Todd looked visibly confused.

‘That isn’t bullying. Bullying is when you beat someone up — like they did to Marshall,’ he said.

I looked up at him from under my eyebrows. Was he really a complete moron? ‘It’s both physical and verbal,’ I snapped.

‘Really?’ he said stupidly, and for a second I thought he was having me on. Then I realised he was serious.

‘It’s harassment, Todd,’ Alice said, ‘whether it’s violent or psychological, it’s designed to make the person feel bad.’

I looked at her pointedly, and she dropped her eyes. Todd was silent and then he looked at me.

‘I don’t agree. I don’t think that’s bullying. Sometimes you do stuff, mucking around,’ he looked at the others for , ‘just for a joke, you know, because you think it’s funny.’

I didn’t know what to say to him. If that was an apology it was pretty pathetic.

A Mother’s Son

I knocked on Marshall’s front door. I stood nervously, clutching the flowers I was holding so tightly the water dripped down the side of my hand. I wasn’t sure what Mrs Tate wanted. She’d rung yesterday and Mum had taken the message.

‘She wants to talk to you,’ Mum said.

‘Did she say what about?’ I asked anxiously. I was frightened she might have come round to blaming me for what had happened to Marshall. I couldn’t stop thinking that it had been my fault Marshall had been targeted, and my fault I hadn’t insisted on telling.

‘She needs to talk, I think,’ Mum said. ‘She has to deal with her loss. I’ll come with you if you like.’

I shook my head. ‘No, she wants to see me. I’ll go alone.’

‘She’s got something to give you,’ Mum said.

What was it? I wondered as I stood on the doorstep and looked around. The verandah was covered in leaves and a pile of rolled, plastic-wrapped newspapers formed a tee-pee, like a stack of kindling waiting for a match.

There was the sound of slow footsteps and then the front door opened. Mrs Tate looked a hundred years older than she had at the funeral. Nervously I thrust the bunch of yellow roses in her face.

‘Hi,’ I said, as brightly as I could.

‘Avalon.’ She took the flowers from me. ‘Come in, darling girl.’

She hugged me and I felt her bony shoulders through her cardigan. Tears were in her eyes but no blame. I walked through the house with her; it had a pent up smell of musty, stale cigarette smoke and moist dog hair. It was dark and untidy. My shoe caught on a pile of magazines, scattering them down the hallway.

‘Oops, sorry,’ I said, bending to straighten them.

‘Leave it sweetie,’ she said, and her voice sounded gravelly from cigarette smoke. ‘Sit down. Cup of tea?’

I nodded and she went into the kitchen to make it. I stood in the centre of their tiny lounge room, looking around like I’d never been there before. Things appeared so differently and it was because Marshall’s absence was palpable. The room was dark, the heavy green velvet curtains shut, even though it was late afternoon. I went up to the wall unit. It was cheap timber veneer, the corners cracked and revealing the chipboard beneath. There were photos of Marshall crammed into every visible space, wedged between paperbacks and dying plants, on top of the TV and DVD player. By the weak overhead light I looked at Marshall aged five, and ten and more recently, this year’s school photo. How handsome he was with his perfect smile and white teeth.

‘They broke his front tooth you know,’ she said, looking at the picture I was holding.

I shook my head, frightened of hearing any more details. I sat in the worn armchair opposite her. She pulled her knees up to her chest, her feet in greying pink towelling slippers, and sipped her tea, watching me. We sat quietly in the darkness. I didn’t know what to say.

‘He really liked you,’ she said kindly. ‘I the day he came home from school and told me what a special girl you were. Someone he’d like to go out with one day.’

‘Marshall said that?’ I blurted out. ‘I never thought he was interested in … girls.’ Then I ed what Dad said — he fancies you — and suddenly I felt guilty of making assumptions.

‘He was confused,’ she said sipping her tea, ‘he didn’t know what he wanted. And he thought about it, questioned it; that’s part of what made him so different. He just didn’t know. He didn’t understand himself.’

I sat silently, realising how little I knew about Marshall. I thought we knew each other so well. But beyond his humour and advice, he never revealed much about himself.

‘I had no idea,’ I said sadly. Maybe he wasn’t gay. They had hated him so much and driven him to his death for what? For his differences? His confusion? Did

any of it even matter now? He was dead.

‘He didn’t like to discuss his feelings much,’ she said, trying to make me feel better. ‘You might not know this but he was seeing a counsellor. I’d asked him to, not to change him, or make him one way or the other but just to accept himself. I didn’t know how to make him happy.’

She was silent, I watched her grappling with her memories.

‘He had a difficult time dealing with his father and brother leaving. And when the harassment started, he easily believed he was worthless.’ She reached for a tissue and wiped her red eyes. It was all quite shocking, her revelations. He’d never expressed any of this. He always reassured me I didn’t deserve any of the stuff they were doing to me. He always told me it was their problem, not mine. My pain rose up in my chest but I knew it would be selfish to cry in front of Marshall’s mother.

‘I made a huge mistake not getting more involved. But sometimes you don’t know the right thing to do.’ She tipped her head back and looked at the ceiling. Her mouth was quivering and she was trying to keep her composure. ‘I blame myself for his death. If I had gone to the school and forced them to deal with it maybe he wouldn’t have felt so tormented.’ She cupped her face in one hand and stared into her tea. We both sat tortured by past silence.

‘You’ve just described the way I feel,’ I said finally, allowing the tears to spring in my eyes. ‘If I had done something, Marshall might never have been targeted next.’

‘He was so mad when they started picking on you,’ she said, fiercely defending me. ‘He knew what you were going through and he hated watching you struggle.’

I nodded, I knew that.

‘I begged him to make you go to your parents, and he said you would when the time was right. He knew how frightening it can be, the kids at school, being labelled a dobber. He was starting his own campaign, to expose the bullies.’

I nodded again, this much I did know. What I didn’t understand is why, on the verge of exposing them, he’d killed himself. What had they done to him? But it was no good to think this way.

‘Did he tell you who they were?’ I asked.

‘No,’ she said, and I felt that glimmer of hope die. ‘But I found this yesterday and I think it will tell you who is who.’ She handed me a thick exercise book.

Sticks and Stones May Break Your Bones …

I sat on my bed holding his journal. I opened the first page. Marshall had unusually neat handwriting. I looked at the letters, once formed by his hand, and felt tears on my face. Mrs Tate was going to give it to the police, but she wanted me to see it first.

‘You read it,’ she said, holding me tightly, the book crushed between our bodies. ‘He wouldn’t mind. I believe one day he would have told you all these things.’

I nodded and held his journal against my chest. My last piece of Marshall. The entries began two years before, when he was in Year Eight.

January 15

Last year was crappy with Dad leaving I felt like I was going crazy. Don’t tell your friends, or you’re labeled faggot & pussy. I can’t talk to Mum she’s so upset about Dad. It makes me so angry.

He says he didn’t leave me – just Mum – but how stupid is he? He doesn’t LIVE HERE ANYMORE!!!! Mum says he stopped loving her years ago. Only stayed for us kids. Go figure! I’m still a kid!! I know why Ellis has gone, he can drink beer & work in the mines, while I stay with mummy! The house feels so weird. But I’m looking forward to high school. At least it’s new & different & hopefully I’ll make heaps of friends.

And life won’t seem so shit.

I skimmed over the next few entries. He sounded happy and excited, wrote in detail about school and his classes, how new and different everything was. Then suddenly the tone changed.

February 25

I feel sick. Something real bad’s happened. Todd turned on me in Phys Ed. I don’t know why. I think he’s trying to impress the popular guys. He’s like that showing off & being a try-hard when tough guys are around. In front of everyone he pulled my pants down. I was so embarrassed. The other guys laughed – said I’m queer & reckoned I had an erection.

March 6

It’s getting worse. Todd & his mates call me queer, faggot, & woman. They reckon I stink & play with myself in class. It’s Pick on Marshall every day. Everyone s in. I sit alone – I think ignore it, pretend you can’t hear it. But I can. I want to smash their heads in. But I know what would happen. They’d beat me up. I hate my life. I want to leave school.

My eyes raced over the next entry and the one after. They were so painful to read. He was dumped by all his friends because they were frightened of being picked on too. He started getting death threats even then. He was terrified of school. He pretended to be sick and took weeks off at a time. As the months ed his feelings got blacker.

May 13

I hate myself. I’m sick & disgusting.

I want to die.

I want blackness to take me. End it all. I’m so hated.

I hate everyone.

I WISH THEY’D ALL DIE!

May 24

I took the razor & dug it into my arm. The blade sunk into the skin & it was so painful. Blood shot out like an explosion. I felt relief. Silver blade turned red & blood dripped onto the floor. Now I feel weird & disgusted. What is wrong with me?

There was a long break in his writing after that. About two months ed without a comment and then he wrote about Tamara and Sukey. I imagined them all together on the netball courts and tears stung my eyes. It was so unfair.

The next entry made me sit up straight. It was about Alice coming to the school.

Alice came with Sukey to the netball courts. She’s real pretty but majorly shy & grateful to have some friends. Sook really likes her.

August 11

Alice has gone with the popular girls. They came at lunchtime & asked her to go to the oval with them. It’s where they smoke. Alice seemed unsure, but went anyway. Sukey said Alice didn’t smoke – she was just trying to fit in. No guys want to our group, but I don’t care. I like the girls, we have a good time. Keep to ourselves & don’t attract any attention. So far so good.

It seemed unreal that Alice had started out as their friend and ended up as a mega bitch. How differently things might have gone. It was exhausting to read and I skimmed the next few pages. I felt sick as I read about incidents where he was beaten up by guys during Phys Ed.

October 14

I can’t believe it’s happening again. After all this time. Chris thought I was staring at him in the shower.

What you lookin at faggot? he screamed before he punched me. My head hit the tiled wall & Brett & Tyson kicked me in the guts. I vomited & was almost

unconscious with pain when Mr Halliday came in.

Mum wants me to press charges. But I can’t. I don’t want anymore shit. They’ve threatened to kill me. Why won’t they leave me alone?

October 22

I’ve told Mum everything. She wants me to go to a teacher. Yeah right!

If I tell, the guys will get into trouble, everyone will know it’s me & then I’ll

be dead. No way! Best to keep quiet. Pretend it doesn’t hurt.

I’ve told Mum I’ll see a counsellor. I told her about being called a faggot. She was real cool. Said not to worry. But I am worried.

November 14

I don’t know if I should write this down. I’m real worried. I got a job delivering papers. I was putting one in a mailbox & a guy opened the front door. I don’t know him – he looked older than me. Maybe he goes to a private school? He kept looking at me & I watched him out the corner of my eye. He didn’t have a shirt on & he made me feel real weird. We made eye & when he smiled I felt nervous & excited. He asked me to come out to the pool & I felt really frightened. I don’t want to be a fag. I wouldn’t look at him. I left quickly. He was

still watching me.

Shit. I feel really frightened.

What’s happening to me???

December 13

I quit my job. I couldn’t deal with it. I felt sick when I went near that guy’s house. He must be a faggot. All guys check out other guys, don’t they? It doesn’t make you gay. Does it?

I shut the book for a second, my hand automatically smoothing the cover down. God, he was so confused. He sounded like a wreck. There were a few blank pages and then the writing started again.

February 1

Tomorrow is the start of Year 10. I feel anxious. Last year was pretty good. No major fights or dramas. I didn’t have one person threaten me & I didn’t get beaten up or stalked like in Year 8. I’m doing something right!!!!

I think if you act like you don’t give a shit, you can almost believe it!! They still call me queer & fag but it doesn’t faze me. Maybe I am one!! Sometimes I look at girls & I like them & sometimes guys make me feel like that. Maybe I’m bi-

sexual. I need to ask Katie about that. I’ve never had sex with anyone, girl or guy – so how would I know???

February 2

Well Marshall – you may have your answer!! Today a new girl ed our group. She’s funny & smart – I really like her!! I think I must have been going through a phase! I’m sure I’m not gay!!! I wish she’d like me too – but I know she thinks I’m Marshall the gay – okay. But one day maybe I’ll ask her out!!

My face burned as I read about me. It wasn’t okay, me assuming he was gay. I wished I’d been able to see past the stereotyping. I was ashamed by my lack of insight. Oh Marshall. I flicked over the next few entries. Now I was back in familiar territory, the first five weeks of school documented in day-by-day s. My heart raced as I was suddenly engulfed in that old feeling of anxiety again.

I scanned the lines, only stopping when I saw something unusual. The end of the entry for February 3 he wrote:

I think I’m in love with Avalon!

I actually thought about kissing her!!

That must mean I’m not gay.

She’s so beautiful & has these amazing deep eyes, she laughs & they sparkle. I can’t stop thinking about her. All the time! A gay guy can’t love a girl.

I had to stop again and put the book down. I got up off the bed and walked across the room. This was so hard. It was such a waste. I felt so angry and I didn’t want to be angry with him. But it was all wrong. And so unfair.

It was like listening to Marshall talk. But instead of the positive, self-confident Marshall this one was full of self-doubt and loathing. He mentioned Todd’s attack on us and wrote:

He thinks he’s tough but when Caleb told him to piss off he nearly crapped himself. I wish I’d done something. But no-one’s scared of me. They think I’m a faggot & weak.

I skimmed over the pages until I came to the entries where he was starting to piece together the identities of the cyber bullies. Based on information they’d given out on different websites Marshall had managed to identify which Bitch was which. Hope, Faith & Charity was Julie Reynolds, Angel Baby was Lisa Angel, Good Girl was Fiona Grey and All Out of Love was Courtney Smith. I glanced over the next few pages, but he had nothing to identify Dragon Girl. It was disappointing, but I knew it was Alice, and I held on to the hope that later in the journal he’d have proof.

And then all of a sudden Marshall’s voice changed, it became angry and hateful.

February 26

It’s all stopped against Avalon. Thank God. She’s so much happier.

I can’t tell her it’s back on me.

It started after Todd attacked us.

Concerned for my safety is posting shit about me on Teen G Spot. Same old crap about being a faggot.

Why don’t they get a life?

I don’t want Avalon to know. She’ll think it’s her fault. And it’s not. She’s strong – wouldn’t let it get to her. I have to as well. Be strong Marshall.

February 28

Got a death threat today – by email.

MARSHALL THE FAG, YOU ARE DISGUSTING & ABNORMAL. ME & MY MATES ARE GONNA GET YOU.

AND KILL YOU! YOU PERVERT QUEER.

It was from Metallica Guy. I can’t believe it’s happening again.

March 1

I know what to do. Make a website – Bullies Exposed. I’m going to put nude bodies engaged in disgusting sex acts with photos of the heads of all the kids at school who are spreading rumours . I’ll call that section BITS of people – Boring Insignificant Time Wasting Stupid people.

Then I’ll put their names against their real names & list their crimes. Then I’m going to text all of Year 10 & go online. How will they feel then? I want them to be embarrassed & humiliated. And everyone will know.

March 2

I’m being sledged on every website & chat room kids at school use. I can’t keep up with it. It’s so fast. I can’t escape it.

March 7

What was I thinking? Why would any of those shits at school care who the

bullies are? Everyone knows anyway. Marshall – you’re pathetic & weak.

Sticks & stones may break your bones but names will never hurt you – bullshit – they do hurt.

It’s like a total nightmare.

The only good thing is Avalon. She’s going on the cruise with me. Then those dickheads will see I like girls not boys.

March 9

Today was the worst day of my life. They took my clothes & towel when I was in the shower. They all laughed & pointed at me when I came out cold & wet.

Look at his pin dick, Jeremy shouted.

I still can’t believe it was him. Jeremy – someone so completely normal!! And then a couple of them grabbed me & held me down & Jeremy shaved my pubes off, saying, ‘Dirty little faggot thinks he can go out with girls too?’ And they all start chanting, Dirty little faggot, dirty little faggot.

They think I’m queer – but I’ve never touched a guy’s dick. How come Jeremy can do that & no-one thinks he’s gay? I was so embarrassed. Mitch came in & made them let me go. He didn’t say anything to Jeremy – who’s his best mate –

but he looked disgusted.

I HATE THEM ALL.

I WISH THEY’D DIE.

I WISH I WAS DEAD.

Oh my God!

I felt a tear run around the edge of my nose and I wiped it away with my sleeve. I was trembling. How could they have done that to him? No wonder he wouldn’t tell me. He was so humiliated. Jeremy! It was unbelievable. I couldn’t believe he’d do such things. He seemed so normal. How could someone appear to be so nice to your face but secretly be so vile and hostile? My stomach twisted. Did this mean Jeremy was Metallica Guy as well?

March 10

I have to go back to school tomorrow. I’ve been home all day – I felt like I’d died. I emailed Av – I want her to know what’s going on. I told her everything would be okay when it was happening to her – seems like bullshit if I can’t pretend too. She never wagged a day. But it’s been so bad, I thought it was over but it’s worse than ever.

I can’t believe Jeremy. Why him? He as good as told me he was concerned for my safety. He had that razor in his hand & he said, Marshall, you wanna be grateful this is a safety razor, not a cut throat, because it’d be more than just your hair we’d remove. Because I’m concerned for my safety.

And then he laughed & laughed. They all did. Like I’m some sick animal.

FUCK THEM!

I don’t want Av to think I’m a pussy. I’ll teach them a lesson.

I’ll do that website.

I will stand up to them. Show everyone who they are – using their own weapon against them.

Let’s see how they like it! Bunch of dickheads. I can do it. And I will.

I flipped the pages of the next entry quickly, bracing myself. It was spread out over several pages. After that there was just blank paper. It was undated, but I knew he must have written it when he got home from school that last day. His writing was scrawled and heavy, like the pen was trying to penetrate the paper. There was so much anger in the formation of the letters. I breathed deeply and then read it slowly.

It’s over. I didn’t even hear them coming. I was thinking about SHIT. About whether I am gay. Are they right? I wouldn’t choose this. They’re so totally STUPID!

I don’t know who punched me first. But it was a coward’s punch. I fell face first onto the concrete. My front tooth cracked. It kills. I can’t see properly. My breathing’s stuffed.

I watched them kick me again & again. I felt like I’d left my body – like watching a movie. All I smell is vomit. All I taste is blood.

Chris spat in my face. I couldn’t move. They lifted me up & held me so Jeremy could punch me in the face.

DIRTY FAGGOT, THIS ONE’S FOR BRETT!

My nose is shattered.

I can’t breathe.

Tyson held me up.

They used me like a punching bag.

Jeremy spat on me.

DISGUSTING FAG, DISGUSTING FAG

I don’t know what to do.

GOD WHAT THE FUCK SHOULD I DO??

No-one stopped to help me. I would’ve looked drunk or wasted.

No-one cares.

It’s all too much.

I look disgusting.

What’s happened to me?

It’s not worth it.

Why do I want revenge?

THEY don’t care. It won’t do any good.

WHAT’S THE FUCKING POINT????

I can’t take it anymore.

This is never going to end.

A World With No Borders

I focused on his last words. He made it end. He took the gun and finished it. I wiped the tears from my face. My breathing was ragged. There was so much pain and anger.

I squeezed the book shut tightly.

Why hadn’t he told me? If only he’d shared some of this with me maybe he’d never have felt so desperate and alone. It was hard to hear that voice in his journal and know it was Marshall’s. It was so angry and depressed. The Marshall I knew wasn’t like that at all. I couldn’t believe how he felt about me. If only he’d told me.

I looked at the cover, white lines like veins running across the frequently creased places. This was Marshall’s story, the secret history even his closest friends hadn’t known. Why, Marshall? Why didn’t you tell me how bad you felt? Why did you keep it all to yourself ?

Alice had to pay. I needed to prove she was Dragon Girl. She was the instigator of the whole hate campaign against me and therefore ultimately responsible for Marshall’s death. She had to pay.

I opened my laptop and returned to the web pages that had hosted hideous lies about me. On an office pad I jotted down the names of the websites and names, then cross-referenced the emails and texts.

I opened up a saved copy of the transcript at Teen G Spot. I the day I saved it, I’d thought to myself that Julie and Lisa had pretty much revealed their identities. Marshall had confirmed that suspicion.

***hope, faith & charity has entered the room ***thug_mentality has left the room anyone there know Avalon? yeh she’s got her eye on the footy team no way ***concerned for my safety has entered the room I’m the footy team really? want a gf? like what? 165cm, brown hair, green eyes cup size? C after someone who’ll do it got the girl — Avalon tried her, she won’t reply to email text me. I will

anyone no Alice Davenport? shes my bf got her email? shes interested in another guy

Reading it back now, and putting the identities to the names made me feel sick all over again. Concerned For My Safety was Jeremy, and here he itted to emailing me, so that confirmed he was also Metallica Guy. I shook my head in disbelief. We had all thought he was such a top guy. My God, Sukey was so in love with him. Why would someone as popular as Jeremy bully people so mercilessly? I’d always thought bullies were people with low self-esteem.

I went back to the email from Metallica Guy and right clicked on the sender’s properties:

[email protected]

— I had his address! I had something real for the police to trace. He had been chatting online with Dragon Girl, maybe he knew her identity.

Also in the Teen G Spot’s chat room, Fiona and Courtney used the same aliases as on the blog site. Fiona was Good Girl and Courtney was All Out of Love, just as Marshall had figured. On this site they actually listed their real names, ages and interests in their profiles. They weren’t very imaginative. You’d think they’d have tried to think up some other aliases, so as not to be linked to other sites. I had to laugh when I read their profiles and saved them to my hard drive.

I had evidence to Marshall’s findings, but like him I had absolutely nothing on Dragon Girl. She was so cunning. In all the chat rooms she never revealed anything identifiable. And all her emails came from a web-based email , which makes them virtually impossible to trace, as anyone can sign up using an alias.

The only thing left was the blog site. After studying all Dragon Girl’s entries for clues and finding nothing, I finally clicked on the Us button. I figured someone must control the site, surely someone would know who the s really were.

I continued to trawl through pages and go back through my history button. I made notes on anything Dragon Girl had said. I was looking for particular phrases or words she used that would prove she was Alice. The weird thing was that none of it sounded like Alice. She was so smart and Dragon Girl was almost illiterate. Alice’s face-to-face bullying was nasty but Dragon Girl’s was vile and obscene. But I guess that’s the nature of the internet — it allows you to act in any way you want, without fear of the consequences. According to the school workshops, cyber bullies are supposed to get off on the power that comes from the combination of anonymity and publicity. That was its attraction. It allows people who might not normally bully an opportunity to do it secretly, to say things they wouldn’t say face-to-face. Alice did both — I guess she was just a special breed of mega bitch.

An email notification came up on my screen.

I clicked on it; it was a very prompt reply from the of the blog site.

From: [email protected] Sent: 29 March 11:24 am To: [email protected] Subject: Monitoring s

Dear Avalon, Thank you for your inquiry regarding the registration of s on our site. Our site will only host journals for people over the age of thirteen. If we find any belonging to people under that age we are required under the COPPA Act (Children’s Online Privacy Protection Rule) to delete them immediately. This is because we require an email address and participants are able to create an interests page, which contravenes the COPPA Act if the person is under 13. To with our site we require a id, first name and surname, gender, DOB, email address and . If you have any concerns regarding the content of a journal please send an email to abuse@ rublogging.com and we will address that problem. We hope you enjoy the site. Get blogging, staff

It was scary. They had no way of tracing true identities. To , people were using false names and unidentifiable email addresses, hiding in cyber land and doing what they liked.

My phone didn’t help me either; anyone can buy a cheap phone card and they can be impossible to track. In a land of no borders, I was running into brick walls everywhere I turned.

Senior Constable Adams looked up from my office pad, his eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve tied up some loose ends for our investigation, between your research and Marshall’s journal,’ he said. ‘We have enough now to move in on a few people and lay charges.’

My stomach twisted when I heard those words, he was so serious. But this was serious. Marshall was dead and the police now had evidence to show the involvement of other people in his death.

‘Our person of interest has been quite helpful, but now we have grounds for a warrant to access his computer and other evidence, that should squeeze a confession. We can easily link the physical attack on Marshall with the cyber stalking and secure a conviction — the operators of several websites are having their records subpoenaed. Then we’ll be laying charges.’

I knew not to ask him who they had, I knew he wouldn’t tell me before an arrest. But it didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure it out: Jeremy was going down.

Even Problem Solvers Don’t Know all the Answers

My own investigations had taken my mind off Marshall’s death during the daytime. But at night I was haunted by his journal.

I flicked on my bedroom light and sat quietly looking at the moonlight through the gap in the curtains. Outside all was still. Poor Marshall. Poor Marshall. I hadn’t known him at all, and it was killing me. How could I have thought we were best friends and not known how deeply unhappy he was? Surely I could have done something.

I couldn’t stop the what ifs. What if he’d told me he liked me? What if I’d told Dad about the bullying? What if I’d spoken to Miss Mac? What if Alice had liked me on that first day? What if, what if ?

Alice. She pervaded my thoughts. I wanted her to be punished for what she’d done. I couldn’t stop thinking about how she had acted in one of the workshops on cyber bullying. When the facilitator said it was a particularly cowardly form of bullying because of the anonymity I looked at Alice.

You coward, I wanted to scream.

It made my skin crawl to see the complete lack of regret on her face. I kept watching her. Everything the facilitator said was about her, the instigator, but she wasn’t displaying any signs of guilt. How could she be so heartless? How could she sit there and make notes like this was an experiment? How could she not care at all?

One thing was strange — girls who cyber bully were supposed to be physically weaker than others in their class. And that really confused me — Alice definitely wasn’t one of the weak ones, she’d never been afraid to say anything to my face. So I didn’t get it. Why the cyber bullying as well?

The whole thing was sending me crazy. I was never going to understand her. I couldn’t sleep, so I crept downstairs.

In the darkness, the tiny light inside the fridge illuminated the kitchen. I pulled out the carton of milk.

‘One for me too?’ It was Mum. Her dressing gown was loosely tied and her hair was sticking up. I nodded and poured two glasses, then sat at the table.

‘Can’t sleep?’ she asked.

I shook my head. ‘All I can think about is him. All the time.’ I was crying again. Mum grabbed my hand.

‘Nothing’s going to make this easy,’ she said. ‘There is no solution to fix what’s happened.’

I rubbed my eyes. I wanted her to have the answer. But she didn’t.

‘I think, if you want to, we could organise for you to talk to someone.’

‘Like a shrink?’ I said.

‘A psych — something. Someone outside the school. It might help if you talk about your feelings to someone not involved.’

I nodded my head. I was prepared to try anything.

Being Held able

I was at hockey practice, my eyes fixed on the little white ball in front of me, my thoughts in another place, when I saw them walking across the oval. There were two of them, broad shouldered and blue suited. They went up to Mr Halliday. One pulled a notebook out of his pocket and read from it. Mr Halliday looked shocked and pointed to Jeremy who was doing push-ups on the concrete stands. One of the police officers walked over to him. Jeremy got up, wiping his hands against his shorts, his laughter evaporating on his face. He went with the officer to the change room and they came back with his sports bag and walked back to the police car, the officer holding Jeremy’s elbow.

Around me others on the team had stopped playing, the little white ball frozen against the grass; we were all watching.

‘Shit,’ Lisa said, ‘has he just been arrested?’

I didn’t know if she was talking to me or just thinking aloud. But I thought it was pretty obvious. I was glad. I looked toward the stand where Marshall used to sit, cheering me on, knowing he was marking himself as a target for those guys, and I felt the pain swelling within me.

‘I think they’ve got him,’ Alice said to Lisa, but making eye with me.

‘But nothing will bring Marshall back,’ I snapped, squinting against the sun and the tears.

‘I know,’ she said, and she wasn’t being mean. She actually looked really sad.

I was changing my shoes when my phone vibrated on the wooden bench. It sounded like a fly trapped against a glass window. Once that sound was enough to have me hyperventilating, now the only effect it had on me was curiosity. I looked at the screen. Message from Sukey.

jeremy arrested for stalking & chris & tyson

I stared at the words for the longest time, sitting on the bench where Marshall ed me, and was glad that someone would be held responsible. I knew it was all really over.

Bullies Exposed

The arrest of Jeremy, Tyson and Chris sent shock waves through the school. I heard people saying they couldn’t believe someone would be charged with bullying. But as Miss Mac pointed out in one of our constant workshops, digital technology had taken bullying to a completely new level.

Senior Constable Adams had traced Metallica Guy’s email address to a remailer. A remailer is a service that hides the identity of the sender by giving them a false name and address and often encrypting the messages. They are a legal service, often used by people involved in illegal activities. The remailer was ordered by the court to reveal their records. The evidence proved beyond reasonable doubt that Jeremy was both Concerned For My Safety and Metallica Guy.

The police had questioned Mitch over the incident in the change rooms when Jeremy attacked Marshall with the razor, and Mitch had ed Marshall’s journal entry. I was quite impressed with him: he was Jeremy’s best friend but he became the prosecution’s strongest witness.

Julie, Lisa, Fiona and Courtney were all interviewed and cautioned by the police. They had broken the law by giving out personal information about me on the internet, but it only warranted a slapped wrist. The school was tougher on them and put them through a monitored student behaviour program. I think their worst punishment was the embarrassment they suffered as a result of being exposed to the entire school as the biggest bitches and greatest cowards of the century!

Julie’s parents were even tougher. They were so horrified by her involvement in the bullying that she didn’t even get to finish the monitored student behaviour

program. Two weeks after Marshall’s death they took her out of school. Rumour has it they sent her to a very strict, private girls’ school. I couldn’t help feeling smug about it. She got what she deserved, day after day with no boys around!

But Alice was getting away with it scot-free. The cops were no closer to finding Dragon Girl than I’d been. Jeremy claimed he had no idea who he’d been chatting to on the internet. He couldn’t provide the cops with Dragon Girl’s identity because he didn’t know it. But if I never proved Alice was behind the start of it all I wasn’t going to lose any more sleep. My psych was making me work on that. Alice, of course, was too gutless to come forward and own up. A true coward to the very end. She was happy to let her mates go down for something she started, hiding forever behind her nom de cyber.

Things began to settle down. People were acting nicer to each other; whether that was the result of the strategies we were being taught or the aftermath of Marshall’s death I guess we’ll never know. The school psych and the facilitators of the anti-bullying policy were happy to accept the praise for the results.

It took months for Jeremy, Tyson and Chris to be tried for cyber stalking and assault. When they stood before the judge in the children’s court I imagine they must have had a small taste of the terror and intimidation they had dished out.

The judge had dragged out their suffering as she ran through the crimes they’d committed.

‘You have been found guilty of cyber stalking, assault and criminal complicity resulting in the death of Marshall Tate,’ she said. ‘Your harassment both physical and mental was to such an extent Marshall Tate felt no other recourse than to end his own life. You have displayed the extremes of cowardice and bullying that should result in jail sentences. However, having viewed your character

references, your lack of criminal convictions, your remorse and young age I believe you will not benefit from incarceration. It is my judgement that you shall receive a suspended sentence, community service and have a five thousand dollar fine imposed.’

The school excluded them.

Winter arrived suddenly. One day we were experiencing warm days with a slight bite in the wind, the next day torrential downpours lashed the windows. Across the school grounds students wrapped in shiny blue plastic raincoats ran for cover, heads down against the wind and rain. The sky was a thick weaving of grey tones. From the gloom of the verandahs the classrooms appeared brightly lit; it was like watching people going about their business late in the evening. At recess and lunchtime the students from the oval crowded under the verandahs and the canteen area was like a social hub, full of noise and laughter, shouting and pushing. Kids jumped on empty milk cartons and the air cracked with deafening bangs as the cartons exploded under foot.

The library and common areas were full, students’ hot breath fogging up the windows as people crammed together to avoid the weather. There was the smell of damp polyester and wool in the air. Where the summer days had served to divide the school into its small groups scattered across the grounds, winter now brought them bleating and shuddering together in close proximity.

My friends had found another isolated spot, around the back of the English department, near the girls’ toilets. I hated it there. Not only did it stink, but it always reminded me of my first day at school: that incident, I’d come to believe, where things had gone horribly wrong for me. I’d often sit there and look at the door marked Female Students and see Alice leading the way, pushing open the door and the untouched me following her in. I’d see the door close behind me, and wonder what I would be saying in there, this time, with Alice. Would I be doing it differently?

Our group had changed so much. Without Marshall, whatever had held us together seemed to be weakening. Tamara was back, but she spoke about leaving school at the end of the year. Sukey and Jemima were both even more uncommunicative. In fact I struggled to have a conversation with either one of them. It was awkward and often painful and I gradually stopped spending time with them. I threw myself into my schoolwork. Classes were better for me, and the counselling I was having was starting to settle the anger and pain in my head. I didn’t feel so guarded and paranoid any more. And that in itself was a huge relief.

A couple of months after Marshall’s death the school began a peer program. Years Seven, Eight and Nine were being buddied with Years Ten and Eleven. The idea was to give them an older person to trust and them. We met our buddies during one of the workshops that had become a regular part of school curriculum. I sat cross-legged on the floor with some people from my Science class and some Year Elevens, as the younger students were brought in to meet us.

They all appeared very shy and intimidated, but it only took moments to reassure them and then we sat and talked about school and subjects and life in general.

‘Did you know the guy who killed himself?’ Holly reverently asked me, as if questioning whether I’d seen the face of God.

‘His name was Marshall and he was my best friend,’ I said, able now to say those words without choking.

‘Was it really because he was bullied that he killed himself?’ She sounded

sceptical.

I met her questioning gaze and thought about what they’d done to him. ‘There were other problems too, but yeah,’ I said, breathing deeply to ease the pain, ‘definitely, it was the bullying.’

‘Oh,’ she looked surprised. ‘That’s real sad.’

I realised a lot of things as a result of my first six months at school, and the most important was not to keep stuff to yourself. I wanted to make sure there was something in place so that no-one ever had to feel the loneliness and isolation that Marshall and I had experienced. And so I hoped to finish something Marshall had started. It wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but it was the basis of the idea. I owed it to Marshall. But I needed help to do it.

‘So what do you think?’ I asked Caleb after Science. It had taken every ounce of courage I had to ask him his opinion. But from the moment I’d started speaking he’d listened with interest, nodding his head and making the odd comment. By the end of my presentation, I felt pretty confident of his response.

‘I can help you set it up,’ he offered. ‘I’m not too bad at IT — better than I am at Science anyway.’

‘That’d be great, but are you sure you want to give up so much time?’ I didn’t want him to agree to something now that would piss him off later.

‘Nah, no prob,’ he said, ‘though I have to warn you — when the surf’s up, I’m clocking off.’

Caleb enlisted the help of several of his mates, and at lunchtimes we sat down and worked out how we were going to pitch it to the istration. On the day of our meeting with the principal, Caleb turned up to school with his shirt ironed and matching shoelaces. Before I could comment he said two words to me, ‘Ms McKenzie.’

The staff went for the idea and gave us the space and a small budget to set up our online chat room. It was called Bullying Exposed: Don’t Ignore It! We didn’t do the nude photos, but we did create different forums to allow kids to talk about their feelings as a result of the bullying they experienced.

It started getting hits from around the world. Teenagers from Canada, and the US talked openly with Australian teenagers about the effects bullying had on them. It developed rapidly with full school — the istration staff posted fact sheets and links to Kids Helpline, the counsellors recommended it, and the student body in general accessed the site.

It was Caleb’s idea to start the section For Bullies.

‘Who would want to it to it?’ I asked him as we sat in the IT room, working on our site.

‘You never know the shit some of them are going through too,’ he said.

And amazingly, some of them anonymously posted their stories and contributed to discussions. After they were sledged by the regular s, mostly victims, they were able to get information and resources to help them understand why they did it. And maybe help them stop.

My lunchtimes were now taken up by the website. Caleb and his mates would meet me in there for lunch and then we’d hit the website. Most days we’d get a few people drop by to see what was going on, and the IT room became a pretty social place, music cranking and people sitting around on desk tops eating lunch while the rain thundered against the tin roof. Sukey and Jemima came sometimes, but mostly they’d only stay a few minutes. At first I felt like I was letting them down, being more interested in the project than I was in them. But in my mind it was about Marshall, and doing something that he had planned. Tamara stayed with me. We’d developed a strong friendship, and though we didn’t go shopping and that sort of stuff I knew if I needed her she’d be there.

Caleb was the site ; he made sure anything offensive or illegal was removed immediately. s that broke our and conditions were banned.

Then one day Caleb came up to me at the desk where I sat working through some spreadsheets for the principal.

‘We’ve got something interesting come up in the chat room,’ he said.

‘What is it?’ I could tell by his voice it was important. ‘We’ve got a bully exposing it all,’ he said, minimising my spreadsheet and opening our site.

I sat staring at the graphics of our home page. I thinking how good

they looked. Caleb reached over my shoulder and gently brushed my hair out of the way. I watched the forum open. Caleb clicked on the For Bullies section. It was Dragon Girl. I felt a ripple run up my bare legs.

Forum: For Bullies Topic: help me!!!

Author

Topic

Dragongirl Ive been a bully for a long time. I guess it started with mum. She always screame

I know what its like to be bullied. I supose people would say why do it then. I dun

‘Has she got a profile?’ I asked, turning to look at Caleb. My heart was thundering.

Without answering, he reached over and clicked on Profile. I gave a sharp intake of breath. I couldn’t believe it. She had completely revealed her identity.

That’s What You Do

I sat at the table opposite Alice. We hadn’t spoken for such a long time it was weird facing her again. Apart from ing , I hadn’t had anything to do with her at all. I found it difficult to look her in the eye. I’d blamed her and hated her so much. In class I’d often look up and see her watching me, but I’d look away quickly. She’d kept such a low profile after Marshall’s death that it had been easy to pretend she didn’t exist. With the other Bitches in disgrace and Julie gone, Alice’s power had diminished. She wasn’t so tough and brave any more. I’d see her at lunchtimes walking with some of her mates to the library, but that swing had really gone out of her step. She was still as immaculate as ever but there was something different about her now. It was like she’d lost her confidence.

‘It wasn’t you,’ I said, and the tears filled my throat. It was the closest I could get to an apology. She looked grateful.

‘I thought it was,’ I said simply. There wasn’t much else I could say. ‘You’d been such a bitch to me and my friends. It didn’t seem like it could be anyone else.’

‘I know,’ she smiled. She seemed relieved the truth was out there and let a tear roll down her cheek. ‘In a lot of ways it might as well have been me. If I had been nicer to you on that first day it might never have happened. So I guess it was my fault.’

In a way it was true. I’d so badly wanted to be part of their group and they’d known it. They’d had the power to accept or reject me and they’d used it. In a lot of ways it was her fault. But she wasn’t Dragon Girl. She hadn’t started the

cyber bullying.

‘I think I could’ve handled what you did to me, if that was all I’d had to deal with,’ I said. ‘It was the texts and websites that were killing me. I guess at least you were up front about the way you felt about me.’ It was true. When I thought back to that nightmare at least when I saw Alice I knew it was coming. But the anonymous stuff — it made you paranoid about everyone, and suspicious of all the wrong people.

‘I did in,’ she said softly, looking embarrassed. ‘I sent you some pretty awful texts, but it made me feel …’ she shrugged, ‘I don’t know, cowardly. And I sent you an email.’

‘An email?’ I said, quickly thinking back to the ones I ed.

‘At the very beginning,’ her voice dropped and she wouldn’t make eye with me.

‘You were a friend?’ I asked incredulously.

She bit her lip and nodded her head.

‘The thing is, I could easily have liked you. But you were so pretty and confident and smart, I thought you’d be more popular than me. I thought guys like Mitch and Jeremy would like you more.’ She shook her head, as if at the stupidity of it all. ‘So when Dragon Girl started the blog, I sent that text and email. There was

no point in all the cyber stuff if you didn’t know about it.’

‘God, you all hated me so much.’ It still hurt, even now.

‘But you know what?’ she added. ‘Dragon Girl kept feeding us all that info, but we had no idea who she was. And then things got really ugly and I didn’t want to be involved. But it seemed bigger than any of us, and my friends were all so into it. It was all we talked about. And so I kept it up whenever I saw you because that’s what you do. I sat back and watched them torment you.’ Her face was full of remorse and regret. ‘I’m really sorry.’

I didn’t know what to say.

‘I guess we’ve all done things we’re not proud of,’ I finally said.

She nodded. ‘When Marshall killed himself, I’d never thought how badly it could get to someone. I knew we were being bitchy, but it was just what we did. I never really thought it would make you feel that way.’

I never thought it could make you kill yourself either. Even when I felt so hated. I was so unhappy. I thought I wish I was dead, but the idea of actually doing it never entered my head.

‘I guess you don’t know how things affect other people,’ I said, thinking about Marshall and how secretive he’d been about his feelings, even to me.

‘I know that now,’ she said. ‘This is probably the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. And I can’t ever make up to him for it.’

And I knew what she meant.

Dragon Girl

Dragon Girl broke down when I confronted her after school that day, before the police arrived to charge her with cyber stalking. I found her down on the netball courts, where we all used to hang out before Marshall died. She was sitting in the corner, her back against the mesh fence, watching me arrive. She was waiting for me. I was shaking, I felt like vomiting but I had to speak to her. I knew that’s why she’d posted her message: it was meant for me.

I dropped my bag and crouched down next to her. She was crying. I expected to feel anger. I thought I’d want to punch her. But when Caleb had opened her profile and shown me who it was all I felt was ill. And totally betrayed.

‘Why?’ I asked.

She wouldn’t look at me, and she was talking so softly I had to lean closer to hear her.

‘Because I was jealous. I really wanted you to like me. I really wanted to have a best friend and be popular, like they were,’ she sniffed and looked up. But she couldn’t hold my gaze. Her eyes darted to the fence where Brett had been knocked out.

‘I thought we were friends,’ I said, suddenly feeling tears in my eyes. ‘I trusted you. I thought you liked me.’

‘I did.’ She made eye for a second and then looked away. ‘But I saw the way you and Alice got on together. You’re both smart and pretty, it was only a matter of time before she accepted you. Once she did, they would. And then you’d move into the popular group and leave us all behind. We would never have made it like you. We would have looked like even bigger rejects because they always took our friends from us.’

I sat watching her. My friend who’d done all of this to me. Even now, it still didn’t make sense.

‘But you liked Jeremy,’ I said, thinking about her chat room conversations with him. ‘Did you know he was Metallica Guy?’

‘No, I had no idea.’ She shook her head and sort of laughed. ‘When I was giving him and his friends information about you I was just trying to turn everyone against you. I didn’t ever consider it might be Jeremy. I thought he was a nice guy.’ She stopped suddenly, realising what her words also meant. ‘I didn’t know he meant those threats. I thought it was pretty innocent, I never thought it would go the way it did.’

‘So why didn’t you stop?’ I said through my tears. ‘Why were you so vicious, even after everyone was sledging me?’

‘Because when I sat at my laptop typing all that stuff, I wasn’t me any more. You have no idea what my life is like.’ She looked at me accusingly. ‘How would you know? Everything is perfect for you. I could escape Mum and her drunken fits and hide behind my keyboard. I was like them; I wasn’t the skinny chick who got picked on too. I didn’t have to be a reject, I could be powerful. I started something and it became huge. I was the leader. And noone could catch me. I was smarter than everyone. Even you.’ She looked at me defiantly.

‘But I still don’t understand,’ I clutched at the pain in my forehead. ‘You emailed me, after all that time, after everything against me had died down.’ I stared at her in disbelief. ‘And then Marshall was attacked by Jeremy in the change rooms. You knew.’

She shook her head, she was crying. But I couldn’t feel sympathy for her. I couldn’t believe it.

‘No, I only found out later what they’d done to him. And it was your fault.’ She stared at me angrily, tears drying on her cheeks. ‘I knew about you going with him on the river cruise, he’d told me. He seemed so happy… so pleased about it all. But it made me angry … I’d always liked him. I didn’t care that he was gay. Why would he ask you?’ She said it like it was the most unimaginable scenario ever, her voice loud and strident. ‘So I let them know in a chat room what a …’ she hesitated, her voice dropping, ‘what a slut you were, going out with a fa— with him. And they didn’t like it. I only wanted to put the attention back on you. I didn’t want him to get it. He never deserved it. I didn’t mean for it to go so far out of control.’

I couldn’t stomach her any more. My rage was threatening to explode. ‘How could you?’ I asked angrily, the pain of her betrayal too much to bear. ‘Marshall was your friend, Sukey.’

‘I know,’ she whispered, suddenly deflated, ‘and his death will be my punishment forever.’

After the Moment

When I was on that roller coaster I thought it would never end. Day after day of fear and misery followed by night after night of anxiety attacks and loneliness. When I sat in front of my laptop alone, gnawing away at my fingers and watching the cruel lies in bold type being sent across the world, I felt such desperation. The machine transmitted information much faster than I could deny it. It seemed endless. It was stronger than me and would outlast me.

But Marshall had put his arms around me and hugged me tightly. I felt the warmth of his body, his realness so comforting in my alienation. Once he said, ‘One day this will all be a faint memory. And you’ll sit with your friends ing back to that awful time when you were bullied at school. But you’ll belong and you will be happy. This won’t go on forever.’

I looking at him in disbelief. Not seeing any way out of it all, feeling so caught up in the moment, sure that this would be my future.

But he was right.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my family and friends for their , particularly Savannah and Willow who have to constantly update me on the technology, by friending me on Facebook and Snapchat. This version of the novel wouldn’t exist without the input of my students at Sacred Heart College, who allow me to run ideas past them. I would like to thank my girl band: Tess Dorrington, Kate Hearn, Olivia Fernandes and particularly Dani Lyon and Eva Male who annotated and corrected my 80s speak and dragged me kicking and screaming into 2015. This novel wouldn’t exist without the Fremantle Press, who ten years ago decided to take a punt on this story and this wannabe author. Thank you Cate Sutherland for being my publisher all these years and Janet Blagg for editing the 2006 version. And also, thank you reader, for allowing me to continue to write.

Song Lyrics

The lyrics from ‘Scar’ reproduced on pages 143–144, written by Kevin Griffin and Missy Higgins, are used with kind permission. Copyright lyrics pages 143– 144 © Missy Higgins and Tentative Music Inc. All print rights on behalf of Missy Higgins istered by Allans Publishing Pty Ltd (ABN 28 975 216 332) PO Box 4072 Richmond East Victoria 3121. All rights on behalf of Tentative Music Inc istered by Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp; for Australia and New Zealand, Alfred Publishing (Australia) Pty Ltd (ABN 15 003 954 247) PO Box 2355 Taren Point NSW 2229. International copyright secured. All rights reserved. Unauthorised reproduction is illegal.

Need help?

Bullying can happen to anyone, and it’s never okay. There are many people who may be able to help including parents, friends, older siblings, teachers and counsellors.

Some helpful websites:

www.kidshelp.com.au www.bullyingnoway.gov.au au.reachout.com www.esafety.gov.au www.eheadspace.org.au

Kate McCaffrey

Kate lives in Western Australia with her two daughters and an adopted cat. She teaches English to high school kids in between writing novels.

Also by Kate McCaffrey: In Ecstasy Beautiful Monster Crashing Down Saving Jazz

For more information about Kate and her work go to: katemccaffrey.wordpress.com

First published 2006 by FREMANTLE PRESS 25 Quarry Street, Fremantle, Western Australia 6160 www.fremantlepress.com.au Reprinted twelve times. This edition first published 2015.

Copyright © Kate McCaffrey, 2006.

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purpose of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

Edited by Janet Blagg. Front cover image Emma by Dale Neill, Facez Photography. Printed by Everbest Printing Company, China.

National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-publication data

McCaffrey, Kate, 1970– . Destroying Avalon.

ISBN: 978 1925163 414 (pbk.) also available as an ebook 1. Bullying - Juvenile fiction. 2. Peer pressure in adolescence - Juvenile fiction. 3. Teenagers - suicidal behaviour - Juvenile fiction. I. Title.

A823.4

Publication of this title was assisted by the Commonwealth Government through the Australia Council, its arts funding and advisory body.

Fremantle Press is ed by the State Government through the Department of Culture and the Arts.