Posse Read Online Free

friends. She’s an unofficial member of our posse, even though she’s only in Year Nine. I know I’m going to be wretchedly miserable without her this week. I only hope we can wreak enough havoc at this camp to take my mind off her. Thank God for the posse.

3
    T HE MESS HALL IS THE coolest building at Riveroak Recreation Ranch. Cool temperature-wise, I mean. There ain’t nothin’ cool about the Ranch. It’s daggier than my mother’s wardrobe.
    Singing for our supper is cracking us up something savage, though. All the posses are seated at long tables and Bevan and John are trying to make us sing in a round. The song is – can you believe it – ‘The Cock is Dead’. Clare and I, the musical ones, are singing an octave higher than everyoneelse, with great, passionate vibrato, like opera singers.
    Mrs Kerr gives me the evil eye and stalks over to our table. I ignore her. She taps me on the shoulder.
    â€˜You stand out like a sore thumb, Amy Gillespie.’ She jabs her finger into my shoulder with every syllable. ‘I’m watching you and your cronies. Remember that.’
    Kerr’s a redhead, but not a nice one like my darling Marina. She’s wizened and freckly and most unattractive. I lower my voice and sing just out of tune, coming in at the wrong time. Everyone on our side of the hall is completely thrown out and the round is a shambles. At least the instructors have a good sense of humour. They give up and we sing a god-awful cheesy prayer to the tune of ‘Rock Around the Clock’.
    I sing loudly and with far too much enthusiasm for an atheist. I raise my eyebrows to Mrs Kerr. I’m having a great time. Only on the last ‘amen’do I catch Clare batting her eyelashes at Bevan. I note with some concern that he’s smiling back. I suppose he is quite handsome. But he’s training to be a minister, for God’s sake, and at least thirty years old. What interest could he have in her? I point these things out to her as we’re lining up at the servery for our devon-and-salad sandwiches.
    â€˜I’m just not into little boys any more, Amy,’ she says. She can be so haughty and immature. ‘Look, I’m not planning to sleep with him or anything. I’ll just flirt.’
    â€˜Clare, you’re a virgin.’
    â€˜So are you.’
    â€˜Oh?’
    â€˜God, you don’t count all that muck, do you?’
    I feel like slapping her.
    â€˜You’re just jealous,’ she says.
    I roll my eyes and pretend to be above it. I turn around in the queue and talk to Patricia, who still looks like a bloated beetroot.
    â€˜I’m going to waste away on this slop they’refeeding us,’ I say. It’s true. I looked down at my stomach in the shower last night and it was completely flat. And that was after just one day of camp food.
    â€˜I’ve got some chips and lollies in my bag,’ says Patricia, ‘but I don’t know if they’re going to last me until the end of the week.’
    â€˜What kind of chips?’
    â€˜Twisties.’
    â€˜Cheese or chicken?’
    â€˜Cheese.’
    â€˜Let’s go.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Let’s go back to the hut and eat some chips.’
    â€˜We’re not allowed in the hut during the day.’
    Patricia’s a goody-two-shoes at heart.
    â€˜Think outside the square, Patricia,’ I say, hooking my arm through hers.
    Clare looks at us and mouths, ‘Where are you going?’
    â€˜Toilet,’ I mouth back.
    Clare’s pouting. Talk about jealousy. She can’t stand it when I’m one-on-one with another girl. I think she sees me as belonging to her exclusively. She’s not a dyke, but she knows I think she’s gorgeous and she likes my attention. When Marina Miller first arrived on the scene Clare started fluffing her feathers and we had some huge rows.
    Patricia is Clare’s second-best friend. It sounds so