Mothers and Daughters by Kylie Ladd

for it.’ Janey lay back, hands behind her head. The mattress was a bit lumpy, she thought. Tomorrow night she was going to sleep in her own room in a proper bed, or maybe she’d talk Tess into giving her hers and Tess could sleep on the floor. That was only fair, after all. Janey was the guest.
    ‘But don’t you need your parents’ permission if you’re under sixteen?’
    Janey sighed. ‘Mum’ll give it to me,’ she said, speaking with far more confidence than she felt. ‘Anyway, I can easily pass for sixteen. You know Ro, from the year above us? She got into Chasers on the Saturday night before we left. I heard her group talking about it in the dunnies at school. She used her sister’s ID, but still—I look heaps older than she does, especially if I wear make-up.’
    ‘Who’s the lucky guy?’ Tess asked. ‘Anyone I know? Someone in year eight?’
    Janey sniffed. ‘As if—those babies. All they know how to do with their dicks is tug them.’ She paused, letting the suspense build, then admitted, ‘No one in particular. I just want to be prepared. I’ll be fifteen next year.’
    ‘Not until July,’ Tess said, then quickly added, ‘But that’s still incredible. Mum’s pretty cool, but I don’t think she’d let me do it.’
    Bronte spoke up out of the darkness, surprising them. It was so easy to forget she was there. ‘I’ve heard that some girls get the pill by saying that they need it for their skin, or to control their periods.’
    ‘Yeah, well, clearly I don’t need it for my skin, do I? And my periods have been fine ever since I got them, apart from the first few months. Still, I was only eleven then, remember?’ Janey smirked at the memory. Eleven, and the first in grade six. She’d acted horrified, but secretly she’d been thrilled. Beat you all.
    ‘You could say you needed it for swimming. The pill, I mean. To skip your period when you have a big meet. You can do that, you know.’
    ‘Duh, Bronte,’ Janey said, rolling her eyes even though no one could see her. But she hadn’t known. Could you really? she wondered. That would be so convenient. She hated racing at that time of the month. She felt so crampy, and she was always worried that the string would slip out of her bathers and hang down her leg like it had that time for one of the older girls, Jo. She’d been bent over on the blocks for the start of a practice relay and half the team were pointing at it and laughing, or at least that’s what it felt like. Janey shuddered.
    ‘Bloody hell, Bronte,’ Tess said, sounding impressed. ‘How do you know so much? Anything you’d like to share with us?’
    ‘We learned it in sex ed. It’s part of biology. We just did it this year.’ Bronte’s voice was low and Janey knew she was blushing. She was so uptight. Sex ed at year eight, though. That was impressive. At Janey’s school they didn’t get it till year ten. Too late for some by then.
    ‘So is it your stroke coach?’ Tess went on, unwilling to let the subject drop. ‘The one you told me about last year. What was his name—Alan?’
    ‘Adam,’ Janey replied automatically. She rolled over onto her stomach. ‘I can’t believe you remember that.’
    ‘I can’t believe you think I’d forget.’ Tess giggled. ‘Janey had this coach,’ she explained to Bronte, ‘not her main one, a younger guy who helped out, and one day when he was teaching her butterfly he made her get out of the pool and he put his arms around her to show her what to do.’
    ‘Breaststroke,’ Janey corrected. ‘And he wasn’t teaching me, he was helping to refine my technique.’
    Tess continued unfazed, her voice rising with excitement. ‘Anyway, to get his arms all the way around he had to press right up against her, and Janey could feel his . . . his . . . you know, his erection!’ she exploded, delighted at her own daring in using the term.
    ‘Shh!’ said Bronte. ‘You’ll wake Amira.’
    ‘Fat chance of that,’ said Tess, falling