Footprints in Your Heart

Remy: Zugzwang

You only care about yourself.

It's absolutely satirical that this is what distracts me from Hazel clicking her fingers in front of my face, but it's all I can think of at the moment. Nah, moment is pushing it, maybe try week.

'Hello? Rem, please! I was just getting to the best bit.'

I start and blink at her. 'Oh. Continue.' When Hazel raises an eyebrow, I concede with an after-you flourish, succeeding only in banging my elbow against my closed locker door.

'It's that,' she says, multitasking with her simultaneous pause for dramatic effect and consoling pat of my hand as I clutch my arm in agony, 'Myra and Kirby broke up, but –'

'What? Didn't we know that already?' I'm still holding my elbow. 'Dude, Hazel, it hurts.'

She takes my elbow and gives it a playful punch. 'That should be better. By comparison.' I punch her back, but only because I'm a firm believer in egalitarianism.

'Anyway, it turns out that they were only pretending to be together because they're both gay, but they're actually best friends and I heard from my deskie that Myra's dating Evie, now, but it turned into this huge fight with Kirby cause Evie's little brother bullies Kirby's. So.' She finally stops for air.

'Glad you got that out of your system,' I deadpan, as Hazel checks her reflection in the little mirror she's glued to the inside of her locker and stops to touch up the mascara under her glasses, flipping one of her curly dark braids over her shoulder. If I could magically swallow a don't-give-a-duck pill for a day, one of the first things I'd do is tell Hazel she's gorgeous without makeup and that wearing even a tiny bit is dangerously pushing the physical limits of beauty, but I have feminist inner conflict. As with most things in life.

'Why do you never get involved in orchestra drama?' Hazel asks before I can zone out again, clicking the lid back onto her mascara pen and turning back to me. 'Saanvi's your desk partner, and come on, she's Saanvi. Popular clarinettist TM and a target for all things juice and gossip. She has to have heard something about the whole Evie saga.'

'Haze, you know I don't....' I trail off, because I remember something. 'No, wait. I did hear something about Evie, but not about her, about her sister. Remember Leylani?'

'Not really.' Hazel picks her laptop bag up off the ground and heads in the direction of the library, books bouncing inside with each step. 'What about her? Come on, we'll miss the good spots.'

'Well, after she graduated last year,' I say, taking a breath to catch up – essential when walking with Hazel and her unjustly long legs, 'she got chosen by the government relocation program to go to Rottnest Island. As an engineer.'

'Mhm.' I have a feeling Hazel has responded to her inclination to tune out when the conversation steers towards anything other than first-class gossip, but I keep going anyway because she probably doesn't know how important this particular bit of news is to me yet.

'And I heard,' I continue as we round the corner and the cheery lights of the school library come into view, framed by a mishmash of colourful welcome posters the Year Sevens have put up around the huge central window, 'that she's having the time of her life. Saanvi said that Evie said she's never seen her sister so happy.'

I wait expectantly for Hazel to connect the dots, but she still looks confused. 'Is there another "and" coming?'

'No,' I say, resisting the urge to punch her in the shoulder again because I can sense Mrs Barlowe, our librarian, staring at us from behind the window. 'It's only that the program which my mum has been pushing for and developing nearly her whole career as a politician here is making people happy, Hazel. That's all. No biggie.'