Lucy and Linh Read Online Free Page B

catwalk!”
    “Linh, you watch it, or one day you’ll have a harassment claim against your name,” he retorted, but then he did a mock sashay with one hand on his hip and wiggled his bum. Those teachers, they cracked us up.
    Tully sat quietly and miserably in our group, occasionally smiling like a moribund old lady who wanted relatives to think she was going to be okay. When we got our end-of-year science tests back, you could see that Tully had got near full marks again. “Wow, Tully, you’re the smartest person I know,” you told her.
    “Piss off, Linh. I don’t want to hear your bullshit!” She got up and left.
    On my last day, the teachers took us Year Nines to the botanical gardens for a picnic. Even Sister Clarke came along. It was one of those days when the sky was all one bright shade of blue and stretched high, as though you were living inside a balloon, warm and giddy. The sunshine slowed our heartbeats down bit by bit as we sat on the grass in our small satellite groups, but close to one another. Even the popular girls—Alessandra, Toula and their gang—were huddled nearby. Of course we had a hierarchy, but on days like this, when we shared all our food, and when Mr. Warren and four other girls were strumming soft classics like “Stand by Me” on guitars they’d lugged from the music house, I was reminded what a nice place this was. The only break in the mood was when Alessandra turned to Yvonne and said, “Hey, nice blouse, Yvonne. Is it from the eighties?”
    Yvonne just shrugged, but you replied, “I heard that the 1980s are coming back into fashion, Alessandra.”
    “Oh, I didn’t mean the 1980s,” Alessandra said. “I meant the
1880s.
”
    Before you could think of a comeback, there were five loud claps and we looked up to see Sister Clarke calling for Tully and me to stand up. Bewildered, we did. “I would like us all to congratulate these girls, your elected student representatives, for the superb job they have done this year.” People cheered. “Not only have they been tireless and enthusiastic in organizing the Red Cross door-knock appeal, the Tournament of Minds team and the Meet the Year Sevens barbecue, but they have successfully petitioned for the introduction of trousers as part of your uniform, so next year you’ll be warm during winter!”
    Loud cheers erupted. Tully smiled at me wanly.
    For years, we had been trying to get out of wearing ridiculous woolen skirts that kept our legs cold no matter how many pairs of tights we had on. Tully and I had argued that it was sexist and old-fashioned. The compromise we had reached with the school was that we would be allowed to wear woolen pants, but the school would also introduce blazers. Otherwise, in our all-gray woolen sweater-and-trousers combos, we’d look like a prison work gang.
    Until then, the entire school had only twelve black blazers of different sizes, which students borrowed whenever we had to do out-of-school presentations or debating. But every girl next year would have her own smart new jacket. With no trimmings on the sleeves or collar, and a detachable college logo on the pocket, the blazer could also double as a suit jacket for job interviews. For mothers who could sew, it could be made from Butterick pattern no. 6578. All you had to do was buy and attach the embroidered Christ Our Savior crest. My mother had made a mock-up of the jacket, and Tully and I had advocated for it in student-staff meetings.
    Sister Clarke brought out a surprise cake. It was only a Safeway mud cake, and she had six more in plastic bags on the barbecue bench for the whole of Year Nine, but this one had white lettering on it that someone had done with an icing pen. “FAREWELL,” it said, with my name below in cursive.
    “It has been a wonderful three years having you at our college,” Sister Clarke said. “You have contributed so much to the school, not only by being involved in so many activities, but also through your strong