getting stronger. Basic training starts in nine days and if you don’t make it, it’s three months until the next course starts.’
‘I’ll have three months to learn to swim. That’s not bad.’
They’ll put you in a red T-shirt,’ Amy said.
‘I’m twelve. Red is for little kids.’
‘No, James. Red shirts are for kids who are not qualified for training. Mostly that’s because they’re too young. But in your case it will be because you can’t swim.’
‘I’ll be two years older than anyone else in a red shirt. I’ll be slaughtered.’
‘James, I’m not trying to pressure you, but if you have to spend three months in a red shirt, your life won’t be a lot of fun.’
‘You are trying to pressure me,’ James said.
‘On the bright side, James, red shirt kids are allowed to keep a gerbil or a hamster in their rooms.’
‘Well funny, Amy.’ James laughed, but he knew this was serious. Kyle, Bruce and everyone else would wet themselves laughing if they put him in a red T-shirt. James started walking through the water towards the steps, determined to swim further than before.
He managed. Amy gave him a hug.
‘You’ll be OK, James.’
James wasn’t so confident.
*
Amy’s door was wedged open and you could hear her stereo as you stepped out of the lift. The room was crammed with people and more lined the corridor outside. Everyone was dressed in normal clothes. After two weeks on campus seeing people in olive trousers and boots, James had almost forgotten skirts existed.
Amy had on bright pink lipstick that matched her mini skirt. James felt self-conscious because everyone was older and he didn’t know anyone. Amy spun around when she saw James. She had a cigarette in one hand and a can of beer in the other. She gave James a kiss on the cheek, leaving a blur of lipstick.
‘Hey James,’ Amy said. ‘I don’t think I’ll be in any state for a swimming lesson tomorrow morning.’
‘Is this the kid who can’t swim?’ a guy sitting on the floor asked loudly.
Everyone heard. James thought people were looking at him thinking he was a wimp.
‘You want a beer, kid?’ a guy sitting by Amy’s fridge asked.
James didn’t know what to say. If he said yes everyone might laugh because they thought he was too young. If he said no he’d look soft. James picked yes. Nobody laughed at him. James caught the can and pulled the tab. Amy grabbed it out of his hand.
‘Don’t give him beer, Charles. He’s only twelve.’
‘Come on, Amy,’ Charles said. ‘Let’s get the little kid drunk. It’s always a laugh.’
Amy smiled and handed James the can.
‘One can, James,’ Amy said. ‘No more. And don’t tell anyone we let you have it.’
*
Once James had sneaked two of Uncle Ron’s beers and got a bit drunk, but this was way beyond that. Amy’s girlfriends all loved James. They kept giving him more beer. James blushed when one of them kissed him. So they all kissed him until his face was a mass of lipstick smears. As they got drunker one of the girls decided it would be funny to give him a love bite. They tickled James until he gave in. He knew he wasn’t much more than their drunken pet, but it was fun being the centre of attention.
Some of the kids on Amy’s floor complained about the racket, so the party had to move outside. It was midnight now and pitch dark. James followed the noise from Amy’s portable CD player.
‘Wait for me,’ James shouted. ‘Busting to piss.’
James wandered into a bunch of trees. Suddenly there wasn’t any ground under his trainers. His heart shot into his mouth as he lost his balance. He slid two metres down an embankment and crashed into a muddy ditch.
James dragged himself up, spitting nasty tasting water out of his mouth. His sweatshirt was ripped. He shouted for help, but the others couldn’t hear over Amy’s music. By the time James scrambled back up the embankment there was no sign of anyone.
Campus was bigger than James
‘I’ll have three months to learn to swim. That’s not bad.’
They’ll put you in a red T-shirt,’ Amy said.
‘I’m twelve. Red is for little kids.’
‘No, James. Red shirts are for kids who are not qualified for training. Mostly that’s because they’re too young. But in your case it will be because you can’t swim.’
‘I’ll be two years older than anyone else in a red shirt. I’ll be slaughtered.’
‘James, I’m not trying to pressure you, but if you have to spend three months in a red shirt, your life won’t be a lot of fun.’
‘You are trying to pressure me,’ James said.
‘On the bright side, James, red shirt kids are allowed to keep a gerbil or a hamster in their rooms.’
‘Well funny, Amy.’ James laughed, but he knew this was serious. Kyle, Bruce and everyone else would wet themselves laughing if they put him in a red T-shirt. James started walking through the water towards the steps, determined to swim further than before.
He managed. Amy gave him a hug.
‘You’ll be OK, James.’
James wasn’t so confident.
*
Amy’s door was wedged open and you could hear her stereo as you stepped out of the lift. The room was crammed with people and more lined the corridor outside. Everyone was dressed in normal clothes. After two weeks on campus seeing people in olive trousers and boots, James had almost forgotten skirts existed.
Amy had on bright pink lipstick that matched her mini skirt. James felt self-conscious because everyone was older and he didn’t know anyone. Amy spun around when she saw James. She had a cigarette in one hand and a can of beer in the other. She gave James a kiss on the cheek, leaving a blur of lipstick.
‘Hey James,’ Amy said. ‘I don’t think I’ll be in any state for a swimming lesson tomorrow morning.’
‘Is this the kid who can’t swim?’ a guy sitting on the floor asked loudly.
Everyone heard. James thought people were looking at him thinking he was a wimp.
‘You want a beer, kid?’ a guy sitting by Amy’s fridge asked.
James didn’t know what to say. If he said yes everyone might laugh because they thought he was too young. If he said no he’d look soft. James picked yes. Nobody laughed at him. James caught the can and pulled the tab. Amy grabbed it out of his hand.
‘Don’t give him beer, Charles. He’s only twelve.’
‘Come on, Amy,’ Charles said. ‘Let’s get the little kid drunk. It’s always a laugh.’
Amy smiled and handed James the can.
‘One can, James,’ Amy said. ‘No more. And don’t tell anyone we let you have it.’
*
Once James had sneaked two of Uncle Ron’s beers and got a bit drunk, but this was way beyond that. Amy’s girlfriends all loved James. They kept giving him more beer. James blushed when one of them kissed him. So they all kissed him until his face was a mass of lipstick smears. As they got drunker one of the girls decided it would be funny to give him a love bite. They tickled James until he gave in. He knew he wasn’t much more than their drunken pet, but it was fun being the centre of attention.
Some of the kids on Amy’s floor complained about the racket, so the party had to move outside. It was midnight now and pitch dark. James followed the noise from Amy’s portable CD player.
‘Wait for me,’ James shouted. ‘Busting to piss.’
James wandered into a bunch of trees. Suddenly there wasn’t any ground under his trainers. His heart shot into his mouth as he lost his balance. He slid two metres down an embankment and crashed into a muddy ditch.
James dragged himself up, spitting nasty tasting water out of his mouth. His sweatshirt was ripped. He shouted for help, but the others couldn’t hear over Amy’s music. By the time James scrambled back up the embankment there was no sign of anyone.
Campus was bigger than James
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