𝙾𝚌𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝚃𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟽𝚝𝚑

"You look nice today," Cooper says.

I look up from my phone. The one Mick has not sent a message to.

I push my phone back into my pocket, totally unsure of what Cooper is complimenting. I tied my hair into a bun, finishing it with a ribbon bow – as I always do for school. Although, in Callie's Kombi, I aggressively applied concealer – as well as other makeup. Because the pimple on my chin is a growing volcano. I don't want Mick seeing me ugly.

"I know we agreed to meet here earlier," I say, motioning my hand around my face, "But I was too busy becoming nice."

"All good," Cooper replies, "I was just practising in the meantime."

I drop my bag by the court's fence and Cooper passes me the basketball.

"Stand here," Cooper says, motioning for me to stand by him.

And so I stand not too far from the net, off to the side. Cooper stands behind me, guiding my hands. I raise the ball and hold it how I've been learning in P.E.

"Like this," Cooper says into my ear as he adjusts my hand directly beneath the ball, "Your other hand guides the shot."

Cooper smells of salted cologne. His voice is husky in a musical way. Cooper removes his hand from mine but the heat still lingers. Boys run so warm.

"Aim for the square's left corner," Cooper tells me.

Standing on the left edge of the keyway, I release the basketball. But instead of scoring, I've made the ball bounce off the square's centre and fall to the other side of the hoop. But before the basketball can finish its fall, two large hands rise and meet the ball, flicking it at the backboard and finishing through the hoop.

"You come here often?" Gabriel asks, grabbing the ball again and passing it back to me. Gabriel's still wearing his backpack, hair damp. He's just arrived from the surf.

"Yeah, as of recently," I reply, "Because we're playing basketball in P.E. this term and I want good marks."

Gabriel nods his head at me then greets Cooper. "Hey, man," Gabriel says, locking hands and knocking shoulders with my make-do coach.

I flick the basketball up again in an attempt to make a shot. I manage to do so. But I'm buying time. What question can I ask back?

"Do you play? I mean, out of school?" I ask. He knows you mean out of school!

"Yeah!" Gabriel exclaims, his smile wide, "Second best sport to surfing. And anyway, I can't surf all the time – it gets dark." And he winks. Winks. At me!

"There doesn't seem to be too many sports you don't play," I comment.

"True," Gabriel says, shrugging his shoulders. Then Gabriel shoots – he's all net. "How come I didn't see you down at the wind up?"

"Yeah?" Cooper pipes in.

"I'm surprised you noticed I wasn't there," I say, my eyes locking on Gabriel.

"Of course I noticed you weren't there," Gabriel responds, his eyes lingering on my own, "I would've liked to have seen you."

Breaking eye-contact, I shoot the ball. Buying time, you know. But it doesn't even hit the backboard. Just the ground several times over on its way to embarrassing me.

Cooper runs off to collect the ball and I begin my ramble, "I decided to study instead. But then Callie called because I'd won some awards. I then put on sunscreen before coming down... I arrived when the coaches and committee were packing up."

"Well," Gabriel says, "I wouldn't want that pretty face of yours getting burnt."

I have to break eye contact.

I again pull my phone from my pocket to see if Mick has messaged, despite the fact my phone has made no sound.

At that, the bell rings for the start of school and the three of us pick up our backpacks. The weight of mine reminds me.

"I'm just going to the toilet," I say, "I'll catch up with you guys at the library."

"I'll wait for you here," Cooper says, smiling with his dimples indenting his cheeks.

"Me, too," Gabriel agrees, waking ahead to lean onto the court's external fence, "The less I have to sit and study, the better."

I enter the neighbouring toilet block and soon have a toilet cubicle door locked behind me.

At mealtimes, a finished plate is all that has ever been accepted. If there was food to scrape, the action was expected. Mum would give back the plate otherwise. The thought of simply throwing away food is against my ingrained values.

I read sanitary items only before lifting the lid.

In my other hand, I hold my sandwich; between the bread slices a veggie patty and last night's salad.

Drop it in the bin.

Mum spent money and time on this sandwich.

Drop it.

This is wasteful.

You want to be pretty —

Disrespectful.

This is the only way.

I release my grip above the bin and close the lid.

And to ensure those internal to the restroom know me as hygienic, I press my finger upon the toilet's flush button. And wash my hands before leaving.

I push open the restroom door to see not only Cooper and Gabriel beside the court fence, but Seraphina approaching them. She wears her hair in two french braids and only being early in the week, her tan is glowing. A grin beams across Seraphina's face as she meets Gabriel with a hug, her arms wrapping around his neck. Seraphina holds him there for a moment, her cheek on his shoulder. Gabriel's arms circle around her, behind her backpack. It's a fact: Only the prettiest girls get the hottest guys.

Even Seraphina's uniform fits properly. She clearly doesn't have a mother who insisted upon buying the school uniform several sizes too big because – you'll grow.

Dear Mother, I'm in my final year of high school and my uniform is still too big.

Seraphina probably has a cool mum. A mother who's there for her to talk to. A mother who's enthusiastic about her life's achievements and events. A mother who lets her make her own lunchbox so she can stay skinny.

Cooper removes his gaze from the entangled pair and raises his hand in hello, a smile lifting at one corner of his mouth. Seraphina removes herself from Gabriel and waves to greet me. Her face is airbrushed with light makeup. Not that she would need foundation if it weren't for her fake tan. I've never seen a concealer-covered-pimple-volcano on her skin.

Urgh.

I think that at least. I do actually say hello to Seraphina.

The four of us walk towards the library, our study period location.

A figure walks up behind the group and then past us. Mick. It's his stocky frame and green backpack also heading towards our shared study period.

He didn't acknowledge us. He didn't acknowledge me. Surely he saw us. Maybe he's not on good terms with the boys...

Cooper's eyes reach my own; wide and ochre and dark, long lashes.

His eyes communicate before Gabriel does, "Isn't Mick your Ball date?"