supportive).
âEverybody dies,â Nathan helpfully offers. âI donât want Dad to die. Or you. Or Michael. Or me, although Iâd rather you die first because youâve lived longer and itâs only fair. But you will die, you know. You could kiss me goodnight tonight and die in your sleep and Dad could be alive and okay in Baghdad as bombs detonate around him.â He shrugs as though Mum is an idiot for not working out something so logical.
âThank you, Nathan,â Mum says wearily.
âAny time, Mum. Can I have more juice please?â
Mina
Paulaâs coming over for dinner tonight. Iâve been buzzing all day, like a kid waiting for her birthday party to start. The house is sparkling and smells of lemon bleach, frangipani and lamb biryani. Mum and I have been cleaning and cooking for hours because according to my mumâs logic, adolescent friendships are made or broken by the orderliness of oneâs linen closet.
Iâm putting the last touches to the table for two that Iâve set on the verandah, and Mum is checking the stove.
âSo her parents are both lawyers?â Mum asks.
âYep.â
âAnd they go on holidays overseas every year?â
âWell thatâs what Iâve picked up from our conversations.â
âAnd she has a car?â
âWell, not exactly. Sheâs only sixteen, Mum, I told you that.â
âBut you mentioned she has a car.â
âItâs her sisterâs car. But sheâs overseas so sheâs left her car here and Paulaâs taking driving lessons in the car.â
âAnd the car is a Saab?â
âMum, quit it will you? I know what youâre thinking and sheâs not like that, and no, sheâs not going to judge us because weâre living in a shoebox.â
Mum pauses, then draws a breath. âI just want to make a good impression. For your sake.â
Mercifully, the front buzzer rings. I leap from the couch and run to answer and let Paula in. Within seconds sheâs at the front door. She sees Mum and launches at her, giving her a big hug and a lopsided, utterly endearing grin.
It doesnât take long for Paula to be inducted into the Hall of Acceptable Friends.
Mum insists on leaving the two of us alone to eat dinner and hang out. Because the apartment is so small, she retreats to her bedroom with a cup of tea, bowl of salted pumpkin seeds and the second half of a Bollywood movie.
âIâve always wanted to watch a Bollywood movie,â Paula says as we eat dinner.
âIf you ever end up watching one, just expect to watch it over a few days because who has three straight hours free?â
After weâve eaten and washed up, we balance a junk food stash between us and go to my room. We settle onto my bed, spread the food around us, take out my laptop, and start watching funny YouTube clips of models tripping on runways, people falling off bikes and other Fail compilations that send us into fits of hysteria.
âSo you think my Lord of the Rings movie marathon is a good idea?â I ask Paula after we finally catch our breath.
âDefinitely! Morelloâs a big fan by the way. So, you know, we have Middle Earth in common. Bet you his wife doesnât even know the difference between an orc and troll.â
âEasy. Just think of the difference between Terrence and Fred.â
She laughs.
âSo where will we hold the marathon?â I ask. âIf we get enough people we could all chip in and hire the strata community hall here.â
âHow about we do it at my place? Weâve got a cinema room.â
âA cinema room?â
Paula looks momentarily embarrassed. âYeah, yeah. I know.â
Despite my misgivings, Paula insists that her parents wonât mind an invasion of teenagers.
She waves a hand dismissively. âItâs called emotional blackmail. Let me demonstrate.â She sits up, grins at me. âPay
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