The Great Between

In the Spinning of It

When I arrive at school on Thursday morning, it is an effort to swallow the feeling that the world is ending. It's like I can hear air hissing out of my spacesuit, but I can't find the source of the noise and I don't know how to patch the hole. Outside the school grounds, the Virus is creeping closer and the news is a blur of conflicting speculation. As I walk through the hallway, I try to shake off my dread.

Emerging into the courtyard, I force a smile at Max as I find her in our usual spot, lounging on top of a picnic table. She squints at me for a moment and sees right through my expression to the buzzing anxiety inside. Her eyes brighten like she has just the thing that will help.

'Anxious?'

'That's a stupid question.'

'You know what could help?'

'We're not ditching class,' I tell her, shrugging off my backpack.

She is already pulling on her jacket, ready to go. 'If we leave now, we can get the eight-fifty train and go to the art gallery. We can have gelato for lunch.'

She jumps up like it's a done deal and hauls her bag up from the gumnut-littered ground.

'I don't want to go on the train,' I say, thinking of the germ-riddled door handles and railings. 'Not with the Virus and everything.'

'Fine,' she huffs, drops her bag down with a thud, and slumps back onto the bench. There is a moment of quiet and she tries not to look disappointed. I'm just about to apologise when she says, 'Your hair's a real mess, by the way.'

'Wow, thanks. You're a delight this morning, Max. You really are.'

'Can I fix it?'

I roll my eyes and hand her the hair ties I keep around my wrist. I've never been good at hair things, and Max is always disappointed in my sloppy half-ponytails. She is one of those people who are blessed with the ability to wrangle hair into effortlessly elegant braids. As she tugs and twists my hair into place, I try to settle my tight anxiety by focusing on Max and the soft breeze against my face and the faraway traffic sounds. My breathing slows and the tension in my shoulders drops a little. It's almost a nice moment until I remember the spiralling disasters that are waiting outside the school gates as the Virus creeps ever closer.

Max flicks hair ties around the smooth braids that end in little tufts just under my ears and grabs my shoulders, leaning down like she's going to whisper a secret in my ear the way she did when we were little. Instead of a secret, she sparks another anxiety.

'Have you spoken to Leo yet?'

'Max.' I wriggle out of her grip and turn to glare at her. 'I thought you were going to drop this.'

'I refuse to drop it until something happens. You have to find out if he likes you back. You just have to.'

'Says who?'

She shrugs. 'Says everyone.'

'What, did you take a vote?'

She rolls her eyes at me and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jacket. 'I just think we should make a plan,' she says seriously.

Something jumps in my stomach. I knew telling Max about this was a bad idea. If Max were a trickster god, we'd all be in a lot of trouble.

'I think we should definitely not do that.'

'Don't worry,' Max says.

'Too late.'

'All we have to do is get the two of you alone together so you can have a conversation.'