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  She sat up and drew her knees to her chin. She looked very small, suddenly, and young. I wondered who she was hanging out with at school now I wasn’t there. I didn’t really think about that when I decided to leave. Chloe always seemed so self-sufficient, so in control. I’d never even considered that she might be lonely.

  I closed my Maths book with a snap, and clambered onto the bed with her, wrapping my arms around her and resting my head on her shoulder. She tensed up for a moment, and I thought about the way Alexis just impulsively hugged me on my first day at Billy Hughes. Then Chloe relaxed into me with a sigh. She smelled like cigarette smoke and her musky vanilla perfume and cherry-flavoured lip gloss.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m really struggling with the workload. It’s much harder and I don’t want to get any further behind. I’m sure it won’t always be like this. I just need to catch up.’

  ‘I don’t know why you care,’ said Chloe with a pout. ‘It’s just school.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘But I figure if I’m there I may as well make the most of it.’

  Chloe made a humphing noise. She reached out and wrapped her finger around a strand of my hair and tugged gently.

  ‘Why does everything have to change?’ she asked.

  ‘It doesn’t,’ I said, amazed at how easily the lie came out. ‘Nothing has to change.’

  Chloe smiled a private, happy smile. It stabbed into me like a knife. I didn’t want to lie to her. I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers, so I didn’t have to see the smile anymore.

  On Sunday, Alexis IM’d and asked if I wanted to go into the city with her. I was supposed to be hanging out with Chloe, but I’d spent all Friday night and all day Saturday with her, so I told Alexis yes, and sent Chloe a text saying I had to stay home and study.

  I washed my hair and applied minimal make-up. My jeans, a simple pink top and a cropped jacket, and I was ready to go. I went into the living room to say goodbye to Pat and David.

  David looked up from his book and frowned. ‘Ava? Is that you?’

  I’d been changing into normal clothes when I got home from school – both to save washing and to postpone the conversation that I was about to have with my parents over my, ahem, new look.

  ‘I’m going into the city to meet a friend,’ I told them.

  ‘Chloe?’ said David.

  I shook my head. ‘A new friend. From Billy Hughes.’

  Pat raised her eyebrows, but said nothing.

  ‘So it’s going okay?’ asked David. ‘With the new school?’

  I nodded. ‘It’s great. I really like it there.’

  Pat wrinkled her nose. They’d been horrified when I’d said I wanted to go to such a posh school. I’d endured a long lecture on the values of the public education system. The only argument that had really convinced them was that I might not be able to get into Melbourne Uni unless I went to a school that pushed me more academically.

  ‘It’s really progressive,’ I offered. ‘We share the teachers’ common room, and call them all by their first names.’

  Pat brightened a bit. ‘That sounds interesting.’

  David looked like he was formulating another question. I had a feeling it’d be a bit harder to answer, so I skipped out the door, citing a train I might miss if I didn’t hurry.

  Alexis and I trawled through Melbourne Central. She bought a flirty silky top from Review, and I just watched wistfully. I wasn’t ready to shop with other people yet. Not till I knew what kind of undies to wear with jeans.

  Alexis talked non-stop. She gossiped about the other students at Billy Hughes (and the teachers!); told me about Mocha, her chocolate schnoodle (I thought she was talking about a dessert until she mentioned puppy school); and nattered about Cameron, and about how nice Ethan was. She also talked a lot about the musical.

  ‘I really want to be Faith,’ she said. ‘I think I’m good enough, or at least I hope I am.’ She laughed. ‘I guess I just have to have faith in my singing ability!’

  I laughed too, and reminded myself that Alexis was actually very intelligent. Sometimes it was difficult to believe she was smart enough to be at Billy Hughes.

  I was terrified we were going to run into Chloe. We stopped at a café, and I hunched down behind my mocha. Every time I saw a flash of black or burgundy out of the corner of my eye, my heart accelerated to a million beats per second.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Alexis, stirring her decaf soy latte.

  Great. Now she thought I was a freak. ‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Just thinking about all my homework.’

  Alexis cocked her head to one side. ‘It’s hard at first, isn’t it?’

  I nodded.

  ‘You’ll get used to it,’ she said. ‘Once you get into the zone, it all becomes much easier.’

  ‘So you don’t struggle?’ I asked. ‘With all the work?’

  Alexis shrugged. ‘Not really. Although I did have a bad first semester last year.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I got a B in Chemistry.’

  I almost choked on my hot chocolate. A B? I’d be lucky if I passed. How was it possible that Alexis was so ditzy, but so smart?

  ‘Let me know if you need any help,’ she said. ‘Notes or anything.’

  We hit the GPO. The soaring ceiling and ornate white balconies made me feel totally grown up and sophisticated. Alexis was right at home, and greeted each sales assistant like they were old friends. I hovered wistfully over some red Camper boots, and Alexis convinced me to buy a pale-blue shirt from Jigsaw. I was riding high on a wave of sugar, caffeine and shopping, and the world was my oyster.

  I’d never really done this before, been girly and gossipy and silly. It was fun. There was actually something quite appealing about Alexis’s ditziness, something open and honest and friendly.

  We stumbled out onto Bourke Street Mall, into masses of people clutching shopping bags and children. A tram clattered past, ringing its bell. I could smell frying garlic in the air. Everything felt right.

  A shabby-looking busker was playing ‘How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?’ on a harmonica, while his dog chimed in for the ‘woof! woof!’ chorus. Alexis and I dissolved into hysterical giggles and plunged into the Royal Arcade.

  Alexis linked her arm through mine and bent her head close as we passed a shop that seemed only to sell Russian babushka dolls.

  ‘So,’ she said, her voice low. ‘Have you done it?’

  ‘Done what?’

  All the little dolls stared straight at me, their painted smiles knowing.

  Alexis tittered. ‘It,’ she said. ‘Are you a virgin?’

  Ah. This question. ‘Er,’ I said. ‘Sort of. It’s complicated.’

  She nodded. ‘I totally understand,’ she said. ‘Technically you are, but you’ve done everything but, right?’

  I wondered what she’d say if I told her I’d lost my girl-virginity. ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Well, don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I hear Ethan is very skilled in that area.’

  I hadn’t really thought about that side of things. I mean, I wanted a boyfriend. I did. I wanted to be normal and go to the school formal and wear a dress and for him to wear a tux and give me a corsage. But I hadn’t actually considered that I would kiss a boy, let alone have sex with one. I mean, Chloe and I had done plenty of … stuff, but it seemed different with a boy. Dangerous. Fooling around with boys led to scary things like STDs and babies.

  Alexis must have noticed I was shaken, because she grabbed my hand. ‘I don’t mean he’s skilled in that way,’ she said. ‘He’s not a man-whore. He’s lovely and is always faithful to his girlfriends. I just meant that he has a reputation for making those girlfriends very happy.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Of course.’

  We headed back to Flinders Street Station. Most of the shops were closing now, and it was starting to get dark. Alexis’s train went from Platform 4, and I was on Platform 1, so we hugged and said goodbye on the concourse.

  ‘Thanks for today,’ I s
aid. ‘I had fun.’

  Alexis laughed at my formality. ‘You’re welcome,’ she said with a little bow. ‘See you tomorrow.’

  I got onto the escalator down to the platform, hugging my shopping bag to my chest and ticking a mental box. A good day. A successful day.

  I was wondering what pants I’d wear with my new blue shirt, and whether I felt brave enough to try a skirt yet, when I saw her. Standing on my platform, surrounded by a white-blue haze of cigarette smoke.

  Chloe.

  I felt like I’d had an electric shock. I turned around and considered running the wrong way up the escalator, but I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself.

  She was reading a battered paperback. If she looked up, she’d see me. She’d see me in my jeans and pink top and swooshy ponytail. She’d see me, and everything would change. And I wasn’t ready for that.

  She didn’t look up. I spun around and scrambled back up the escalator, nearly knocking over a mother with a pram.

  ‘Hey!’ she said. ‘Watch it!’

  Don’t look up. Don’t look up. I didn’t turn around, because there was a chance that Chloe wouldn’t recognise me from behind with my Billy Hughes outfit and ponytail.

  At the top of the escalator I ducked into the station toilets. They stank of urine and had creepy ultraviolet lights to stop people from shooting up. I found a cubicle and sat down on the toilet. I was shaking all over.

  I waited in there for half an hour, to make sure the train had left. A cleaner came in and smeared some kind of disgusting pine-scented detergent on the floor. She banged on the door and asked if I was okay. She probably thought I was a junkie.

  When I finally emerged, the train had gone and so had Chloe.

  I’d been practising for my musical audition all week, singing in the shower and listening to my audition song on repeat.

  I’d picked ‘All by Myself’, because I knew it pretty well and thought it would show off my voice. The high bits were a bit tricky, but after listening to Celine’s version over and over, I could do it exactly the way she did, complete with the faint tinge of a French-Canadian accent.

  I was going to nail the audition.

  Alexis said she’d meet me at my locker ten minutes into lunch. I scarfed my peanut butter sandwich and half a Snickers, and ran to the loo to check my make-up and hair.

  Alexis came bouncing up to me, full of excitement.

  ‘Are you all warmed up and ready?’ she asked.

  I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant, because it was already quite a warm day. But I nodded and she grabbed my arm and we wove our way through the corridors and across the lavender-scented courtyard.

  ‘Now,’ said Alexis. ‘My advice to you is this: look them in the eye when you’re singing.’

  ‘Who?’ I asked.

  ‘Mr Henderson and whoever else is running the auditions,’ she said. ‘It’ll give you a sense of confidence and character.’

  Look them in the eye. Easy.

  For some reason I’d imagined the auditions would be private. I thought we would all line up outside some cosy little room containing a piano and a kindly director with a clipboard, and I’d walk in, knock his socks off, and come out all smiles and rainbows.

  But this was fine too. All the more people to impress. Although was I supposed to look everyone in the eye?

  The auditions were in the school auditorium. It was enormous, and as far as I could tell, every single kid from Billy Hughes was there, as well as every teacher. The director seemed to have escaped from some kind of army base. He looked like he’d much rather be somewhere else. Alexis whispered that he was Mr Henderson, and he was the only teacher at Billy Hughes who didn’t let the students call him by his first name.

  ‘He’s a genius, though,’ she said with breathy reverence.

  As we slipped into our seats, a fat girl with glasses was onstage singing something warbly and operatic.

  Alexis made a face. ‘“I Don’t Know How to Love Him”,’ she muttered. ‘How predictable.’

  Halfway through the song, Mr Henderson groaned.

  ‘Get off!’ he yelled. ‘You’re like a singing dinosaur. Out! Out! Go and make yourself extinct already.’

  The girl burst into noisy tears, and stomped off. I smiled a secret smile to myself. I would be better than that.

  Ella-Grace was next. For such a tiny girl, she sure had a voice on her, all brassy and full-throated. She purred and prowled around the stage like she was born on one. I started to feel the first twinges of nerves, deep down in my stomach.

  ‘She’ll totally get Fritzi Malone,’ whispered Alexis. ‘She’s got such a great chest-voice belt.’

  I had no idea what she was talking about, but I nodded. Alexis continued to tell me about Bang! Bang!. It was a gangster musical written in the 1930s by some famous composer’s nephew.

  ‘It’s got some great numbers,’ she said. ‘Fritzi Malone is the head gangster moll, and she’s all brash and sexy on the outside, but very fragile on the inside. She sings this song called “The Green-eyed Mobster” that is just awesome, and has this great raunchy tap routine that goes with it.’

  I raised my eyebrows and wondered how a tap routine could be raunchy, but said nothing.

  ‘The character I want to play is Faith DeRose,’ Alexis continued. ‘She’s the head gangster’s girlfriend, except she doesn’t love him one bit. She’s all innocent and very frightened by all the illegal activity going on.’

  Her eyes were wide and shiny. I wondered what she’d do if she didn’t get the part. What would she do if I got her part? Would we still be friends? Would Alexis hate me forever?

  Maybe I shouldn’t audition, just in case. But if I didn’t, I couldn’t be in Bang! Bang!, and Ethan wouldn’t notice me and I wouldn’t get to hang out with Alexis and the girls at rehearsal, and maybe they wouldn’t like me anymore.

  I looked around. Someone was missing.

  ‘Where’s Vivian?’ I asked. Vivian wasn’t auditioning. Vivian wasn’t going to be in the musical. Therefore Alexis and I could still be friends if I bolted.

  ‘She’s in the orchestra,’ Alexis whispered. ‘First violin.’

  Crap.

  Alexis dug me in the ribs. ‘It’s Ethan! Look!’

  He was very good-looking. He walked onto the stage with the most confident stride I’d ever seen. He’d look great in a tuxedo, taking me to the school formal. I wanted this. I wanted him to be my boyfriend. I wanted to stand on a pier and look out over the ocean at sunset, while he embraced me from behind, all tall and warm and strong.

  He wasn’t a bad singer, either. Not brilliant, but he could definitely have made the Top 100 on Idol. Mr Henderson nodded. ‘Thanks, Ethan,’ he said, and Ethan grinned and sauntered off.

  I was going to be in the musical. I was going to steal the show. I wanted Ethan to see my audition and think she’s the girl for me. I wanted Alexis to feel like she made the right decision in adopting me as her friend. And it was all going to happen. I looked down at the sheet music in my hand. I couldn’t really read music, but it had the words on it, which would help in case I forgot them.

  But I wouldn’t. Because I was going to be brilliant.

  I turned to Alexis to tell her how excited I was about the whole thing, but she wasn’t there.

  The piano tinkled something unfamiliar, and I looked up to see Alexis onstage, a spotlight transforming her blonde hair into a golden halo. She looked slender and elfin and beautiful. She opened her mouth and sang.

  She’d told me earlier that she was singing a song called ‘Do You Know Where You’re Going To’ from some musical called Mahogany. I’d never heard of it before, but Alexis’s audition made me want to immediately rush out and buy the soundtrack.

  Her voice was pure and sweet and sad and beautiful. It was delicate and fluttery, but totally in control. It soared and dipped and sparkled and shone. It made me think of crystal and bluebirds and bubbling streams. It made me want to cry and wrap Alexis in cotton w
ool and protect her like she was a fragile china doll. It was magic.

  She got a round of applause when she finished. I clapped heartily, so proud to have such a talented friend. Now she would definitely get the part she wanted, and I would get some other part.

  We were going to be in a musical together. Me and Alexis. We would practise singing on the tram and total strangers would applaud. I’d sleep over at her house and we’d memorise our lines together, sitting cross-legged on her bed wearing cute Peter Alexander pyjamas. We’d be fitted for costumes and wear loads of make-up onstage and we would be fabulous and every night we’d take our curtain call under a hail of roses and standing ovations. And the very biggest applause would come from Ethan, who’d be watching me with his eyes full of adoration and admiration.

  ‘Ava Simpson?’

  I smiled and stood up. This was it. My moment. The first of many.

  The stage was the size of a football field. It seemed to take me about an hour to walk across it and stand in the spotlight. It was so bright I couldn’t see a thing. I started to sweat.

  Somewhere, a really, really long way away, I heard the tinkling of a piano. It sounded tinny and muffled, like it was playing on someone else’s iPod. But it was kind of familiar. Was it ‘All by Myself ’? It stopped. I felt myself blush, confused.

  ‘Ava?’ asked a sharp, cranky voice. ‘Are you Ava Simpson?’

  It could only be Mr Henderson, but he sounded like he was miles away.

  I nodded. My mouth was suddenly very dry.

  Singing on trams. Sleepovers in fancy pyjamas. Ethan throwing roses.

  ‘Shall we try that again?’ I dimly heard Mr Henderson say.

  I nodded again, and took a deep breath. I heard the faint plinking and plonking of the piano. I looked at the page of music in front of me and opened my mouth.

  Once I started singing it was okay. My voice sounded a bit shaky, but Celine’s was all wobbly and vulnerable in the first verse too, so I figured that could only be a good thing. Was there something else I was supposed to be doing?

  Look them in the eye! That’s right. I’d reached the chorus, so I looked up from the page of music and blinked. White light blinded me. Did it have to be so bright? I squinted and peered into the darkness outside the ring of the spotlight. Couldn’t see anything.