1
Curtis: The End Of The World
I cross my arms over my chest, and my Easton Grammar blazer tightens around my shoulders and elbows. I should buy a new one because I've worn this blazer since Year 10 when my arms were an inch shorter and my shoulders were narrower. But I'm in my final year of high school, so buying a new blazer now would be an unnecessary expense.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter. "It's freezing in here."
Beside me, my girlfriend, Kennedy Harding, gives me a sympathetic smile. She's wearing a light layer of pink lip-tint and her signature winged eyeliner, and her chestnut brown hair frames her face, cut bluntly at her jaw.
A voice drifts from above. "Literally, Jesus Christ."
I'm not a religious person, but I send a prayer to whoever's up there. Not today. Please.
Liam Ford takes the seat on the pew next to Kennedy, and to my chagrin, Kennedy laughs at Liam's comment. I mentioned Jesus Christ and we're sitting in a church for our school's Easter service. Hardy-har-har. Liam's a comedic genius.
Liam and Kennedy talk about the service, looking around at the students that fill the pews. While Easton Grammar isn't a religious school, there are two church services every year. The Easter service, on the last day of term one, and the Christmas service, on the last day of term four.
I watch Liam and Kennedy talk. Kennedy's 160 centimetres and Liam is almost 185, which means I have a clear view of his stupid face. His eyes drift up and catch me looking at him, and though he's smiling at Kennedy, his eyes harden at the sight of me.
I look away and wrap my arms tighter around myself. As Year 12s, we're seated at the very back of the church, nearby the huge wooden doors that invite gusts of wheezing winds. Thankfully, by this time of year, the sweltering Australian summer has cooled down, but this autumn is uncomfortably frosty. Hopefully, when the service starts and the doors are closed, it will warm up, but this old church doesn't look as if it has the best insulation.
I wait, not for the first time today, for school to finish.
At the front of the church, the staff members and student speakers prepare to begin the service. I see the school captains, Jasper Harvey and Trinity Nguyen, compare their speeches and whisper to each other. I'm pretty good friends with Jasper, or at least, I used to be until we had that one sleepover last November. Guests are sitting in the first couple of pews — old alumni of the school who still like to attend the services, as well as a representative from a charity where the gold coin donations will go.
"… a significant number of students don't attend these days. This one and the last day of term four," Kennedy says to Liam.
Liam stretches out his long legs in front of him, sliding them under the pew in front of us. I swear he's always stretching his legs to get everybody to notice how tall he is. He's a full five centimetres taller than me, which I hate.
"That's probably because it's only a half-day of school," Liam says. "It's not like we do actual work in class, anyway."
Kennedy continues, talking about how while some students of different faiths attend the last day of school, a lot skip it probably because they don't want to go to a church service. Most students are bored out of their minds by the church services, anyway. Kennedy says she should write a letter to the school.
Liam asks her about the recent letter she wrote to the local MP. I don't bother attempting to join into the conversation, because I wouldn't know what to say or how to contribute, and if I tried, Liam would laugh nastily at me.
Finally, the service begins and the students go silent. Kennedy clamps her mouth closed, annoyed at her conversation being interrupted, but rests her head against my shoulder. Her hair, as always, smells of raspberry shampoo.
I smile down at her, and then, unable to help myself, check Liam's reaction. He's watching us, jaw tight, brown eyes narrowed.
I smile mildly back. I hope that drives him crazy.
We listen to speeches and readings. The school orchestra plays music as everyone sings hymns, the lyrics projected onto the screens that hang from the wooden ceiling. Afterwards, straw baskets are passed through the rows as every student puts in a gold coin donation, and as always, several students drop their coins which clatter loudly on the floor. Teachers shoot them disapproving looks.
Throughout the whole service, I keep one eye on the front of the church and one eye on Liam. He keeps his head forward but blinks slowly with boredom. Sometimes he'll subconsciously run a hand through his unruly black hair. Liam looks the way you'd expect someone who listens to alternative music and falls asleep in class to look. Messy hair that's longer than the school rules allow, but he gets away with it somehow. Pale skin, because he spends all his time indoors. High cheekbones — and yeah, they're attractive on male runway models, but on a random person in your maths class, they look ghoulish.
Liam nudges Kennedy with his knee. Something funny — or rather, not funny, because this is his sense of humour we're talking about — must have happened in the service that I didn't notice because I was thinking about Liam. Kennedy smothers a laugh and I clench my jaw.
My issue with Liam Ford isn't that he's Kennedy's friend, even though he's her oldest and closest. They were born days apart, and their mothers were in the same mother's club, and ever since then, their lives have been intertwined. They've been to the same kindergartens and schools all their lives. As long as I can remember, since the first day of Year 7 at Easton Grammar, they've been joined at the hip, but I never really thought about it until I met Kennedy at the Green Easton talk.
My parents have always encouraged me to get involved in local political events. One event I attended last year was the Green Easton talk, where experts discussed environmental sustainability within the city. I have a little interest in environmentalism, but honestly, I wouldn't have gone if my parents didn't tell me to go. I knew I'd get bored.
Then I saw Kennedy there, sitting in the middle row. When she saw me staring, she waved, so I walked over and sat down next to her. While we waited for the talk to begin, we got to talking.
Even though I didn't know Kennedy well — she was in my year level, but we'd only had a few classes together over the years — I knew she was pretty. Short brown hair and big eyes, and of course, that body. And after talking to her, I learned she was funny and confident and I nodded at what she said like an eager puppy.
After the talk finished, I asked if she wanted to get something to eat. We went to a cafe and got lunch. I outright asked her if she had a boyfriend. Usually, I wouldn't say such blatant things, but Kennedy was being so friendly, so I felt strangely confident.
She said no, why?
