Ethan kissed me. He kissed me at a party, and he smiled and called me sugar. That meant something. It wasn’t as if he kissed everyone at that party. No. He kissed me. He chose me. He liked me.

  I just wasn’t a hundred per cent certain I liked him back. I mean, I thought I did. But how could I be sure? I had to kiss him again. Then I’d know.

  Stupid Sam. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? He should have been grateful. I was helping him. He wasn’t failing Maths anymore and it was all thanks to me.

  I hated him.

  My phone rang, bouncing around on my bedside table and skittering off onto the floor with a thunk. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  The caller ID said it was Sam. For a second I considered not answering it. Who called this late? Typical for a Screw to not understand basic social etiquette.

  Against all my better judgement I pressed Answer and held the phone to my ear.

  ‘Newton,’ said Sam. ‘Get dressed and meet us at Flinders Street Station in half an hour.’

  For a moment I had … Absolutely. No. Words. Was he serious?

  ‘What?’ I said at last.

  ‘Flinders Street,’ he said. ‘Thirty minutes.’

  I shook my head at the phone. ‘It’s ten o’clock!’

  ‘I don’t have time to convince you. You just need to come.’

  ‘Why? So you can yell at me again? So you can remind me what a boring Pastel I am?’

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone. ‘Dennis died this morning,’ Sam said quietly. ‘Heart attack. And there’s something we’ve got to do.’

  I crawled out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans, a jumper and some shoes, then grabbed my bag and wandered out into the living room where Pat and David were watching a documentary on SBS.

  ‘Ava?’ said Pat. ‘I thought you’d gone to bed.’

  I stared at them. There was no way they were going to let me go out this late.

  David looked at my bag. ‘Are you going somewhere?’

  I bit my lip. ‘Um,’ I said. ‘Yes. I have to go to Flinders Street. I don’t really know why. But a – a friend of mine asked me to meet him there, and he wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.’

  Pat raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re going to have to give us a bit more than that, I’m afraid.’

  For some reason, I was trembling. ‘Someone died today,’ I said. ‘A teacher.’

  David looked into my eyes for a moment, frowning. Then he stood up. ‘I’ll drive you,’ he said.

  Flinders Street Station was not a fun place to be at ten-thirty on a Thursday night. It was full of skeezy-looking people clutching paper-bagged bottles, asking for loose change. A Jesus-freak with far more hair than seemed necessary for the current evolutionary stage of humanity was bawling into a megaphone.

  ‘Jesus Christ, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, his voice tinny and verging on hysterical. ‘He’s our king of kings, and our Lord of the Rings.’

  For a moment I considered explaining to him exactly what was wrong with his metaphor, but I saw Jacob come through the ticket barrier, and hurried over to him.

  ‘Hey,’ I said.

  To my surprise, Jacob didn’t say anything. He just spread his arms, and gathered me into a warm embrace. It’s what I imagined being hugged by a bear might feel like, giant and soft and utterly comforting, and smelling strangely of marshmallows.

  My face was squashed against Jacob’s chest, and I felt him tremble as he started to cry.

  ‘He was a good man,’ he rumbled. ‘A good man.’

  No, he wasn’t. He was a grumpy old misogynist who would have been much happier in the 1950s. There was nothing good about him. He was rude and ugly, both inside and out.

  But caught up in Jacob’s hug, feeling him quiver with sorrow, my eyes welled up too. I patted Jacob’s back hesitantly.

  ‘Hey.’

  I pulled away to see Sam and Kobe. Sam slapped Jacob on the back in a manly, comforting way, pursing his lips and nodding.

  I wasn’t really sure if Sam and I were still fighting. He caught my eye and ducked his head and his lips twitched in an almost-smile.

  ‘Good to see you, Newton,’ he said, and I felt myself relax.

  ‘So what’s going on?’ I asked.

  Sam shook his head, his ginger ringlets swinging. ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘We have to wait for Jules and Jen.’

  We waited. The Jesus-freak squawked out a song about the rapture. If he was right and there was a heaven, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t get into the angel choir.

  Jen arrived at ten-thirty-five, with a bulging backpack and a large tupperware container, and Jules jogged up a few minutes later.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Ran into my mum and had some ’splaining to do.’

  ‘Right,’ said Sam. ‘Dennis is dead. I know that some of us didn’t always get along with him—’ his eyes flicked towards me, ‘—but he was one of us. And we need to honour him with a mission.’

  A what? The others all nodded and looked serious.

  ‘What kind of mission?’ I asked, feeling a bit nervous.

  Sam looked at Jacob, who sniffed back a sob and nodded fiercely. ‘Dennis,’ he said. ‘We need to go to Dennis.’

  What was going on? Were we going to go and dig up Dennis’s body? No. He’d only died that morning, they wouldn’t have buried him yet. Then what? Break into a morgue?

  For a moment I thought about leaving and going home, but my curiosity got the better of me.

  ‘What line is it on?’ asked Sam.

  ‘Hurstbridge,’ said Kobe. ‘My line.’

  The train wasn’t very crowded. A few weary people in suits snoozed under copies of mX, and up the far end of the carriage, a group of boys a bit older than us silently watched an empty beer bottle roll from side to side in the aisle, in time to the rocking of the train.

  Outside, dark suburbs rushed by. Every now and then I caught a glimpse of a living room through a window, people bathed in the flickering blue light of the television.

  The Screws were pretty subdued. Jacob looked like he was about to burst into tears again, and Jules was talking quietly to him. Kobe was doing the mX crossword, and Jen had her nose buried in a novel called Lioness Rampant. Sam stared out the window, his shoulders hunched and his face impossible to read.

  I nudged Jen. ‘What’s going on?’

  She looked up from her book. ‘You’ll see when we get there.’

  ‘When we get where?’ I asked. ‘Where are we going?’

  She smiled. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It’ll be awesome.

  Our missions always are.’

  I wasn’t feeling good about this. Not good at all. ‘What are these missions?’

  Kobe grinned without looking up. ‘The first one was in Year Nine,’ he said, pencilling in a crossword answer. ‘One of the scenes in House Chorals needed a bus stop.’

  ‘So we stole one,’ said Jacob with a watery smile.

  ‘A whole bus stop?’

  ‘Just the sign,’ said Jacob.

  ‘And the pole,’ added Jen.

  I frowned. ‘But isn’t that illegal? What about the buses? And the people?’

  The Screws laughed. ‘It was pretty funny watching people arrive at the bus stop and look totally confused,’ said Kobe.

  I had fallen in with a bunch of criminals. And the weirdest thing? I kind of liked it. ‘All right,’ I said. ‘What else?’

  They exchanged glances.

  ‘In Year Ten we broke into the tower on top of the school,’ said Jacob. ‘We borrowed a case of champagne from the principal’s office and shook up the bottles so they made big spraying fountains.’

  ‘And I sang “Cockeyed Optimist” from South Pacific,’ added Jules.

  Jen giggled. ‘Did we mention that the whole school was assembled below us for House Athletics?’

  ‘Didn’t you get into trouble?’ I asked.

  Jacob shrugged. ‘It was worth it,’ he said. ‘And we didn’t drink any of the champagne, so they couldn’t be too harsh on us.’

  Sam was still staring out the window at the darkness.

  ‘What else?’ I asked him, nudging him with my foot. ‘What other missions?’

  He looked over at me, and for a moment I saw how sad he was. I remembered his stark, empty bedroom. That wasn’t his home. The undercroft was his home, which meant Dennis was his family. Then he smiled at me and everything seemed normal again.

  ‘Last summer we found an old couch left out for hard rubbish. We reinforced it with timber and added some floaty things we nicked from the Rowing Club at school.’ Sam paused, and his smile grew more genuine with the memory. ‘Then we sailed it down the Yarra.’

  ‘You sailed it?’ I said.

  ‘Well,’ said Sam, ‘punted it is probably a more accurate description.’

  ‘How far did you get?’

  ‘We started near school, and floated downstream from there. We got to Docklands before it finally fell apart.’

  I imagined them splashing around in the river as the couch disintegrated around them, laughing and gurgling as all the yuppies drinking chardonnay on the riverbank stared, openmouthed. If it had been me, swimming fully clothed in the river, I would have been mortified – not to mention terrified of catching some kind of disease from the water. To have so many people watching me, disapproving of me, shaking their heads.

  But there was no way the Screws would have been embarrassed. They wouldn’t have cared if the whole world was watching. Because that’s the kind of people they were. Totally geeky, unashamed, yet somehow kind of awesome.

  How was it possible that, even with a bunch of misfit freaks, I still didn’t fit in?

  The train slowed as the fake woman’s voice announced that we were now arriving at Dennis.

  Sam stood up. ‘We’re here.’

  We were the only people to get off at Dennis. It was a tiny station, not important enough to have a guard or even any security cameras. It was set in a sort of strip of parkland, with streets and houses about twenty metres away on either side.

  We stood on the platform for a moment. I shivered; I wasn’t really dressed for an outdoor excursion, and the night was cold.

  ‘Now what?’ I whispered.

  ‘Now we picnic,’ Sam said, at a completely normal volume. He dug into his pocket and produced a white Posca.

  Kobe opened his backpack, and pulled out a plastic shopping bag full of party decorations. He tossed me a packet of balloons.

  ‘Here,’ he said with a wink. ‘Blow me.’

  I looked down at the balloons, uncomprehending.

  Jules opened a folder and removed some laminated sheets of paper, and a pair of scissors.

  Jen unzipped her backpack and pulled out a blanket.

  ‘Blow, baby, blow!’ said Jules, nudging me.

  These people were insane. But I was there with them, so obviously I was a little insane too.

  I ripped open the packet, and pulled out a limp red balloon. The others had spread out along the platform, working busily.

  I raised the balloon to my lips and took a deep breath.

  After half an hour of furious work, we were done. The whole Dennis platform was festooned with balloons and streamers. Jacob had done something extraordinary with the station’s fuse box in order to light up six strings of fairy lights, which twinkled charmingly and made the balloons glow with warm, bright colours.

  Twelve heritage-green Dennis signs had been decorated with a laminated photo of Dennis’s wrinkly, weathered face, the words May He Rest in Awesome written on each in white Posca.

  Jen had spread the blanket across the middle of the platform, and set out plastic plates of cucumber sandwiches and scones, and plastic cups containing ginger beer and lemonade.

  I raised my eyebrows as I sat down next to her, and she grinned.

  ‘It’s what he would have wanted,’ she said.

  I wasn’t sure about that. I reckon Dennis would’ve preferred a slug of single-malt Scotch, but I grabbed my ginger beer and copied the others, holding it high in the air.

  ‘To Dennis,’ said Sam. ‘A complete and utter bastard, and our fearless leader. May he rest in Awesome.’

  ‘To Dennis,’ said everyone, and we drank.

  As I took my first mouthful of ginger beer, I felt a lump rise in my throat. Before I knew it, I was crying.

  I didn’t know why. I hated Dennis. The world was almost certainly a more enlightened place without him. He was a curmudgeonly, sexist old bastard who treated me with the utmost contempt. He had no respect for personal hygiene, or the smallest conventions of politeness. But there I was, gulping in air and reaching for a serviette to blow my nose on.

  I couldn’t imagine crew without him.

  A train rushed past – an express. A few lone faces inside peered out at the festive platform at six kids sitting eating scones with cream and jam. Some of the faces looked confused, but a few lit up with wondering smiles. And then I knew what it would have been like, to be splashing around in the river. That feeling of being a part of something. Something wild and beautiful and a tiny bit wrong.

  It made me cry even harder, because I knew it wouldn’t last. This belonging feeling. Tomorrow morning I’d wake up and go to school and pretend to be a Pastel with Alexis and Ethan, and then I’d come home and pretend to be a lesbian with Chloe. If she was still speaking to me.

  Jacob put a bear-arm around me and squeezed tight.

  ‘Let it out,’ he said. ‘Just let it out.’

  Jen patted me on the knee, and the others made sympathetic faces. Except for Sam, who stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. He hesitated, then turned and started to walk away, then stopped. Then he turned again and came back to the picnic blanket.

  ‘Come with me,’ he said, offering me his hand.

  I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. I followed him to the end of the platform, where there was one undecorated Dennis sign, bolted to the cyclone fence.

  We stood for a moment, looking at it. I wondered why anyone would have named a train station Dennis. Sam didn’t say anything, just gazed speculatively at the sign.

  ‘You’re going to steal it, aren’t you?’ I said.

  Sam looked into my eyes for a long moment. His lips curled slowly into a broad smile. ‘No,’ he said at last, producing a shifter from his pocket. ‘You are, Newton.’

  Saturday was bump-in day.

  All the flats and doors and bits of set had been moved up to the theatre, and we were setting them up and adding the finishing touches. Jules and Jacob were attaching a brass rail to the nightclub’s bar, which doubled as the Brooklyn Bridge, and Kobe was arranging microphones in the orchestra pit.

  Sam was up in the grid above the stage, repositioning lights, while Jen stood up the back of the auditorium in front of the lighting desk. My extra-special job was to pretend to be an actor and stand in the light so they could check that it was focussed properly.

  ‘So there’s this gorilla,’ said Jacob.

  Jules caught my eye and raised his eyebrows at me. ‘A relative?’

  Jacob shot him a withering look. ‘Of yours? Yeah, now that you mention it, there is quite a strong family resemblance.’

  ‘Actually,’ reconsidered Jules, ‘it’s probably related to the ranga.’ He jerked his head upwards to indicate Sam.

  ‘A little to the left,’ called Jen. ‘And do you think it could use a warmer gel?’

  There was a distant clanking above, and I felt the warm light on my face intensify and become a bit more orange.

  ‘How’s that?’ Sam’s voice drifted from above.

  Jen gave a thumbs up.

  ‘You know I can’t see you,’ Sam said.

  ‘Sorry!’ she called. ‘Yes, it’s great.’

  ‘Her name is Koko,’ said Jacob. ‘The gorilla. And she can use sign language.’

  ‘Cool,’ said Jen. ‘Talking gorilla. Sam, can you reach the blue fresnel near the proscenium?’

  Blue light washed over me. I heard Sam grunt overhead.

  ‘Sort of,’ he said. ‘Depends on how closely you want me to adhere to the health and safety rules.’

  ‘I just need you to bring in that bottom barn door a bit.’

  ‘Can do.’

  ‘Barn doors?’ I asked. ‘On lights? Sounds a bit rustic.’

  Jen laughed. ‘Little gates,’ she said. ‘To stop the light spilling.’

  ‘Nah,’ Jules snorted. ‘They’re to keep the actors in with the rest of the sheep every night.’

  ‘Koko knows over one thousand signs, and has made up new ones,’ Jacob continued. ‘Like, she didn’t know the sign for “ring”, so she signed “finger-bracelet”.’

  ‘Does someone have a crush on Koko?’ said Jules.

  ‘You’re the only one here who has a thing for hairy backs,’ said Jacob. ‘You tell me.’

  ‘Just don’t tell Sam,’ said Jules. ‘He’ll get all fired up with ranga jealousy.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ said Sam’s voice. ‘You can have the gorilla. I’m saving myself for Mrs Feggans.’

  I snorted and looked up to see Sam’s grinning face peering down at me.

  ‘Ours is a wondrous and boundless love,’ he informed me with a wink.

  Jen fiddled around at the lighting board for another moment, and the lights went pale green.

  ‘One of the parcans has a blown bubble,’ said Sam. ‘Hang on, there’s a spare up here somewhere.’

  I heard a clanking from above, and we were all silent as Sam worked on the lights.

  ‘That’s full-on,’ he said, eventually. ‘I mean, a gorilla who understands human language. That’s like this far away from riding a horse, wearing pants and locking Charlton Heston in a cage.’

  ‘Who?’ said Jacob with a frown.

  ‘It’s Mark Wahlberg in the new version,’ I told him.

  Jen shook her head. ‘Philistines.’

  ‘Anyway,’ said Jacob. ‘She used to have a kitten, but it got run over by a car.’

  ‘Oh!’ I said. ‘Poor kitten! Poor Koko! Was she upset?’

 

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