Shift by Em Bailey Page B

No chatting. No getting dazzled by his pretend flirting.
    ‘Oh. Hi,’ I said. ‘I was just …’
    But for some reason I forgot all my pre-planned excuses and felt this weird little quiver in my stomach – probably because I hadn’t eaten much dinner. Groping around for something to
say I noticed Lachlan’s outfit - an old-fashioned suit, in pristine condition, and the funniest shirt I’d ever seen.
    ‘Where did your shirt came from? It’s so lush.’
    Lachlan eyed me cautiously. ‘Does lush mean “something a wonk would wear?”’
    ‘No. I really like it,’ I said. ‘It’s so … ruffly!’
    ‘It was the ruffliest in the entire formal-hire shop,’ he reported proudly.
    ‘I like your jacket too,’ I said.
    Lachlan stroked one of the lapels. ‘This belonged to my Grandpa.’
    ‘So you decided to skip the whole beach theme huh?’
    ‘No, I’ve got this.’ Lachlan fished out something hanging around his neck – a large, hooked tooth, threaded onto a piece of leather. ‘This was my Pa’s too. He
told me he’d pulled it from the mouth of a live shark.’
    I laughed. ‘How long did you believe that?’
    ‘Way too long,’ Lachlan admitted. ‘Especially as it’s got this on it.’ He turned the shark’s tooth over and pointed out the writing on the back. Made in
China. ‘By the time I realised it wasn’t true it didn’t matter.’
    ‘He sounds interesting,’ I heard myself say, even though I was breaking my own rules. It doesn’t hurt to be nice to the new guy, Olive , I imagined Ami saying.
    ‘He was … someone who didn’t like to swim between the flags, I guess.’ Lachlan squinted at me. ‘You remind me of him, actually.’
    My instinct was to crack a gag. I remind you of an old man? Maybe I should use a better moisturiser. But even I could see that he hadn’t meant it that way. My mouth was dry. I
imagined again what Ami would say. Get it together, Olive.
    ‘The trouble with avoiding the flags is you end up like this,’ I managed to croak, pointing to the shark bite in my dress. The way Lachlan’s gaze brushed over me made my
exposed skin turn to goose-pimples, despite the blazing heat of the hall.
    ‘I guess that’s why it’s good to have your own personal lifesaver around,’ he said. ‘Watching out for you.’
    A new song started playing. Lachlan tilted his head. ‘Come and dance?’ he said. Casually. Like it was possible I’d say yes.
    ‘It’s such a wonkish song,’ I said weakly.
    ‘I’m a wonkish dancer.’ There was something very determined about him. ‘Come on.’
    So hopefully that explains how I ended up dancing at my school formal – or at least as much as it’s possible to explain something so unexpected. But here’s the really strange
part. Once I’d calmed down a bit, I started to enjoy myself. Lachlan wasn’t such a bad dancer after all. He lost himself in the music – moving about in this cute, happy way, his
long limbs flopping around. And he didn’t do that other thing that some people do, where they spend the whole time checking if there’s someone better they should be dancing with.
Lachlan looked at me. Only at me.
    When the song finished he took hold of my hand and held it like it was something very precious. His eyes were soft. ‘Stay for another song?’ he said.
    That’s when I heard it. People nearby, snickering. I knew what it meant. I wrenched my hand away, angry with myself for being so stupid.
    ‘Hey,’ said Lachlan. ‘What’s wrong?’
    I glared at him, my throat aching. ‘Have you won your bet yet?’ I said, my voice hard and fierce. ‘The one you made about dancing with the ugliest girl at the
formal?’
    ‘What are you talking about?’ he said, looking horrified. ‘I –’
    I cut him off. ‘Isn’t it embarrassing, being seen with me? Even as a joke.’
    ‘Olive. Stop. ’ There was something in Lachlan’s voice that made me pause, just for a moment. He looked so serious. ‘Why would I be embarrassed