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wouldn’t know me from a paddock of canola – but Nathaniel just stood there chewing and huffing.
    ‘Hi, Avril.’
    He’d used my name. My heart stopped beating for a full second.
    ‘Hi,’ I said. At least I got something out. And I didn’t die.
    Across the street, the ute door slammed. Nathaniel waved his hand around in confusion. ‘Sorry, got to go,’ he said.
    I nodded. I watched him walk across the street, noticed his jeans low on his hips and the black band at the top of his boxers.
    The best thing about the whole encounter was the fact that Katie hadn’t noticed. She was so wrapped in, like, trying to impress the boys at the table that she hadn’t even noticed me with my face on fire behind her.
    ‘I’m going, Katie,’ I said. ‘Nice to meet you guys. Might see you at the show, hey?’
    The boys waved at the same time, as if their brains were somehow linked, and Katie started stammering. ‘But . . . wwwait. Hang on! What . . . what about our hot chocolate? Where are you going?’
    ‘Back to the car. It’s okay, don’t get up. I’ll see you when you get there. Say midday at the latest?’ I walked off.
    ‘But . . .’ She jogged to catch up. ‘What’s the matter?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Then what’s the big hurry? It was supposed to be a lesson. See the master in action.’
    I laughed then, mostly at her joke but partly at the idea that she was, like, the master of picking up strange guys on the street. ‘I can’t just plonk down next to some stranger and start up a conversation with them as if I’d known them for years.’
    ‘Crap,’ she said. ‘We just need to work on your self-confidence.’
    I felt a flash of anger then, rising up like that ancestral hatred of the Carringtons. I wanted to shout that she was a cheap-arsed sleaze and that throwing yourself at a hundred guys doesn’t qualify you as a master of anything. Except maybe sexually transmitted diseases. Thankfully, the words never made it past my lips. The anger rose up and faded away again and in its wake was pity. I felt sorry for Katie and her desperate attempts to feel wanted.
    ‘Thanks, but self-confidence isn’t something you work on,’ I said. ‘You either have it or you don’t. You have it. Truckloads of it. I don’t.’
    She grabbed my hand. ‘No, cuz, it’s not like that. It’s not like that at all.’
    A loud air-horn blasted from the street. Katie and I jumped. The truck that made the racket had ‘L & M Stanton, Rockleigh’ painted on the door – our truck. I waved. The back of the truck looked empty, except for Rex’s shiny black nose sniffing between the boards.
    Time to go home. Time to forget the pricey useless shoes, the skater boys and that alien world. Time to find some space, get some air in my lungs and maybe pelt my cousin with sheep poo.

CHAPTER 06
    I got sick of Katie’s incessant chatter that night. She was rabbiting on about the same stuff – her – and I thought about rolling my swag out in the shearing shed. It was my bedroom and she was my guest, not the other way round. Eventually, I just lost it.
    ‘Katie?’
    ‘Yes, Av? What?’
    ‘Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I don’t want to hear another story.’
    ‘But . . .’
    ‘Enough! Stop. That’s it. Shoosh.’
    She was quiet for a second. Then I could hear her laughing.
    ‘What?’ I said. ‘I’m serious. Shut up.’
    ‘Whoo, big scary Avvie. Going to flip out. Fire up! Come on, dare you.’
    I threw my covers off and swung my feet to the floor between our beds. Katie backed away and I heard a dull thud.
    ‘Oww,’ she said. ‘That was my head.’
    I heard the bookshelf rattle. I thought it might topple and bury her. I held my breath but it didn’t fall and then I really lost it, only now I was laughing. My laughter got Katie going and we were sucked into one of those cackling whirlpools where you can’t stop until your eyes are shiny red with tears and your insides hurt.
    ‘I’m sorry, Avvie,’ she panted when we finally