𝙾𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎

𝚂𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙵𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝟸𝟻𝚝𝚑

The Cubby Bus, the one vehicle Mr Collard failed to fix. Parked at the back of the property, painted in teal, it became the beloved meeting place of best friends. Many times here, our child-selves were led to sleep by the trickling of the adjacent creek. Callie, Cooper and I would cosy into the mattress and bury all but the tops of our heads beneath the doona. Then maybe put a torch to the ceiling and make puppet shadows with our hands. Nowadays, the trees point their shadows to the east and we walk back to the house. To insulated ceilings and walls that don't creak.

Sleepovers in the Cubby Bus, the ultimate novelty of our childhoods.

The Cubby Bus still serves as our place. And as tradition honours, we all meet here after Saturday's Little Athletics comp. Although, today is bittersweet. It was the last district competition any of us will ever compete in. Alas, no one prepares you for the fickleness of teenagehood.

"Where are Callie and Reef with the food?" Cooper asks, slumped in the beanbag with his guitar on his thighs. Impatience is rarely heard from Cooper – except when it comes to food.

Just eat a handful of whatever they bring. There's no need to eat much.

"They've probably discovered a tree they haven't made out by," I state, leaning on the mattress and its gazillion pillows of which Callie has collected for it.

The Cubby Bus used to host just three but Reef has joined the gang. Reef is Callie's boyfriend as well as Cooper's best mate. I adore Reef. He's our fourth table leg. We were okay without, but we're better with.

"I know the middle distance races are your strength," Cooper says, sitting up some as he tunes his guitar, "But I reckon you could have placed third in discus."

"I only wanted gold medals," I reply, thinking of the three I've won over the last two weeks, "I only like to compete in the event finals I know I'll win."

Cooper hangs his head back over his guitar, his shoulder-length curls falling forward to enclose his focus. He fiddles with the tuning a few seconds more then begins to play.

My head lulls into the sea of pillows as Cooper's fingers dance across the strings. His soft voice, raspy in tone, drifts out the open windows. In the breeze, the paperbark trees rustle to the tune and send one of their leaves fluttering in. It lands upon the mattress, its edges golden brown in age. Bright green are the leaves that permanently reside in The Cubby Bus. The indoor plants hang from above and line the walls. No one can deny that these walls, decorated with the stained scent of frankincense and painted brushstrokes of Callie's design, are fully personalised.

"You're still going to the Ball with Mick?" Cooper asks.

"Yep," I reply, my brows furrow and I lift my eyelids to meet Cooper's gaze, "Nothing's changed."

"I thought maybe the date went really bad," Cooper says, continuing to play his guitar.

"Why would you say that?" I ask, elevating my head.

"I didn't think you guys had anything in common."

"Opposites attract," I state.

"Hmm, nah," Cooper responds, "Compatibility in commonality."

I try to perceive Cooper's words as anything but jarring. Mick and I get along. I don't expect men to be perfect...

"The mediator is here," Callie announces as she steps through the doorframe, parting the macrame curtain, "You're both right, quit arguing."

Changed from her athletics uniform, Callie wears her cropped singlet, ripped-in-the-knee mum jeans and woven slides. Callie's wrists, fingers, ankles and toes have been redecorated with gold and braided strings. Once again, from her neck, do beaded necklaces hang. Free-spirited surfer girl – that's Callie.

"And Cooper," she addresses directly, "What crawled up your ass and died?"

Cooper flicks his hands out in an are-you-serious gesture. "So much for being a neutral third party," Cooper comments.

Reef walks in behind Callie, a grin across his face. Too apparent he finds the situation amusing. Between his hands, a platter of salad wraps and chopped fruit. He places it on the centre floor. Callie and Reef sit upon beanbags and I move onto one myself.

"So are you going in the limo with Mick?" Cooper asks, resuming his interview.

"Yeah, are you?" I ask back.

"Nah, I'll be driving myself," Copper says before his brow furrows, "How are you getting to Gabriel's place for the limo? Aren't you getting ready with Callie?"

I reply, "I was just going to walk."

"No!" Callie, Cooper and Reef call out in unison.

"Mum or Dad would be happy to drive you over," Callie says.

"I could even drive you there," Reef offers.

"I'll drive you, absolutely," Cooper insists.

"Are you sure?" I ask Cooper. I'd hate to be an inconvenience to him.

"It's really no trouble," Cooper says, his voice shrinked softer.

My mouth motions okay and Cooper smiles at me; lips together but with his dimples on show.

Callie, Cooper and Reef reach for the platter, each grabbing one of the wraps.

The most calorie dense. Do you really need one?

Callie reaches for a slice of mango with her free hand.

"Guys," I announce, removing my eyes from the platter, "I'm a loser."

"How?" Callie asks, pulling a confused face. The mango slice lodged between her teeth.

"When Mick and I were on our date, these awkward pauses kept happening," I explain, "This time I reckon I'll write a list of conversation starters. Memorise them for the second date."

"If you need a list of conversation starters, that's probably not a good sign," Reef comments, removing his chosen wrap from his mouth.

"No, it's me," I affirm, "I'm socially awkward."

"Never," Cooper states with a grin so wide it almost translates into a laugh.

You don't need to eat a wrap.

"Why haven't you asked someone to go with you to the Ball?" I ask Cooper, changing the subject now I feel dumb, "I heard Jade's still available."

Cooper replies, "I would've gone to the Ball with someone but they were taken."

"Who?!" I demand, knowing I'm entering into territory that's probably out of bounds.

"He won't tell you," Reef pipes in.

"Is she tall?" I begin guessing, "Has blonde hair?"

Cooper's mouth loses all expression. But his wide eyes are full of it.

"You like Seraphina!" I exclaim.

Cooper's jaw drops, just slightly.

I knew it! What y-chromosome wouldn't like Seraphina? She looks like an angel, one that could grace a certain runway. God designed her to break the hearts of men.

"Awkward that your mate is taking her to the Ball," I comment, my teeth bared.

Cooper looks away from me. "Yes," he admits.