The Protected by Claire Zorn

Shakespeare?’
    â€˜Let’s get this straight. Ha, sorry––’
    â€˜That’s not even funny.’
    â€˜Yeah, it is. Did you or did you not give Amy whatserface a bit of a, you know, bit of a touch up?’
    â€˜Katie! I just told you.’
    â€˜Okay. So no girlie love going on there. I mean, of all people I’d be surprised if you went for her.’
    â€˜Just tell me what I should do.’
    â€˜You mean aside from publicly making out with some guy?’
    â€˜Preferably.’
    She pulled her hair forwards over her shoulder, twisted it around and around. ‘Because that would help.’
    â€˜Katie. Come on.’
    â€˜Although, then they’ll just call you a slut, so it’s lose lose.’
    â€˜Thanks.’
    â€˜Spanner, I don’t know. You care too much. You care too much what people think of you. It’s obvious and it makes it easy for them, you know?’
    â€˜I make it too obvious that I don’t like having food pelted at me?’
    â€˜You just …’ She sighed. ‘You just want them to like you so much, you need to stop trying so hard.’
    â€˜Stop trying not to get called a lesbian? It’s easy for you to say all this when everyone thinks you’re a goddess.’
    She released her hair and it fell loose, untwisting. ‘Yeah? And where’s that going to get me exactly, Hannah? Jeez, you’re naive. Leave it. Just leave it. Stop taking everything so seriously. They’ll get bored. They’ll move on. Can you go now? I’m busy. I’ve got an English essay.’
    â€˜Yeah? What on? Gatsby?’
    â€˜Seriously, Hannah, leave. Now.’
    â€˜I can, you know, look at it if you want.’
    â€˜Out.’
    ***
    I sit at the ag plot during lunchbreak with my legs stretched out in the sun, back against the fibro-clad wall and listen to Katie’s iPod. I am up to number one hundred and fifty nine: ‘ Heart-Shaped Box’ by Nirvana. Up until the last few days I knew very little about Nirvana other than the fact that Kurt Cobain shot himself in the head. After listening to ‘ Lithium’ , ‘ Drain You’ , ‘ Come as You Are’ , ‘ Jesus Doesn’t Want Me For A Sunbeam’ and now ‘ Heart-Shaped Box’ I feel I know Kurt Cobain quite well.
    The goats pick their way through the long grass, chewing their feed with little corn-teeth, bleating occasionally. Then suddenly they startle, heads bobbing up, before turning and skittering down the far side of the paddock. I look around, tug my earphones from my ears. If a teacher finds me it will be interesting to see if they give me a detention for being out of bounds. But it’s not a teacher. It’s Josh Chamberlain.
    He dumps his backpack a few metres from me, leans against the wall like he is waiting for a bus.
    â€˜Hey,’ he says, super casual.
    â€˜Hey.’ I wait. He doesn’t say anything more, but takes a small folded piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. He unfolds the paper and squints at it.
    â€˜Noxious weed. Seven letters, fourth letter “t”?’
    â€˜I beg your pardon?’
    â€˜Noxious weed. Seven letters, fourth letter “t”, oh wait. Last letter “a”.’
    â€˜Lantana?’
    â€˜Bingo. Well played, Jane. Animal dance, seven letters, third letter “x”?’
    â€˜That’s easy: foxtrot.’
    â€˜Easy for some, Jane.’
    â€˜Are you doing the crossword?’
    â€˜No. I’m just asking you random questions. Yes, I’m doing the crossword. What are you doing round here?’
    â€˜Just having lunch.’
    â€˜In secret. Very mysterious. Chicken, seven letters? Wait. Poultry.’ He writes on the piece of paper. ‘Nice shoes by the way.’
    â€˜Excuse me?’
    â€˜Your shoes, they’re new, yeah?’
    â€˜Oh, yeah.’
    â€˜You’re gonna get busted if you’re caught