Out of curiosity, I look through the other products sold by the Etsy seller. There's a pink handmade mug covered in tiny words and the description tells me it's Julia Gillard's misogyny speech. Sure enough, as soon as I read the writing, I recognise it. I remember a few years ago Kennedy memorised the whole speech and recited it. Not for school or anything, but just for fun. Because she's Kennedy.
I reckon she'd love this mug. And it's a good deal, and I'm supporting a small business. And I know Kennedy's address so I can send it to her.
If Kennedy saw me right now, I know what she'd say. Are you trying to buy my forgiveness? But whatever. I need to feel like I'm doing something about the situation.
*
"… split into pairs and present a short PowerPoint presentation on a theme Hippolytus. You must use textual evidence. This means quotes, but also literary techniques…"
Ms Lipson drones on about the activity, and while I usually pay attention to English — it's my best subject, and the most interesting along with Media — I keep getting distracted.
In this classroom, the tables are arranged into a U with Ms Teacher at the front. The point, Ms Lipson claims, is that we can have better classroom discussions because everyone can see each other. The problem is that everyone can see each other, and since I have this class with Curtis and Kennedy, we're all locked in a battle of avoiding each other's gaze.
I sit at one leg of the U, and Curtis sits at the other, which means I have a perfect view of him. Which makes it very difficult not to stare at him, spinning his pen with his fingers. Kennedy sits at the line of tables at the bottom of the U, between Curtis and me. She's scribbling something in her notebook, but I know she's not writing notes, but drawing either daisies or waves.
"… so let's get started. Time for the random name generator," Ms Lipson announces, turning to her computer.
I groan, and I'm not the only one. Ms Lipson has a sadistic tendency to use an online random name pairing program rather than let us choose our own partners because if we're paired with someone random, we're more likely to do the work. Her laptop screen is cast on the whiteboard behind her, and everyone watches warily as she presses the generate button.
I hope I'm not with someone stupid. Or boring —
The screen loads and my eyes scan the screen to find my name. When I see who I'm with, a spark of ecstatic energy bursts through me, before immediate dread.
I look across the classroom, and Curtis meets my gaze. My eyes move from his to Kennedy's, because for the first time today, I feel her eyes on mine. She looks at me for a beat, wearing no smile, no frown, then turns away.
Ms Lipson writes out the pairs on a second whiteboard and assigns each pair a theme before turning to us. "What are you all waiting for?" Ms Lipson asks, clapping her hands together. "Come on, get going! I want everyone to be finished in, say… twenty-five minutes. Let's go!"
No one else in the classroom shares her enthusiasm and everyone slowly gets up and moves around to join their partner. I stand up and grab a pen from my pencil case, but Curtis is already coming over to me. Okay then, we'll work here.
"Hi," he says when he arrives. He takes the now empty seat at the table beside me.
"Hi," I say.
He spreads his notebook out on the table and clears his throat.
"We're working on the theme of desire and continence. Do you want to make the PowerPoint on your computer, or mine?"
"I'll do it on mine." I take my laptop out of its case and turning it on. "We've already shared notes, so this shouldn't take us that long," I say, thinking of the day during the holidays when we studied on the attic bedroom floor.
I start a new PowerPoint and read off Curtis's notebook as I type, while Curtis flicks through his copy of the play to find quotes. After a few minutes, I lean closer to read a dot point down the bottom of the page. "Your writing is so tiny." I accidentally nudge him with my elbow.
Curtis leans back. "Oh. Yeah."
The back of my neck goes warm. "Are you okay?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Because you jerked away from my touch like I was contagious. Which is sort of understandable, because we're at school and Kennedy is in this classroom and I don't know where we stand, but it's still embarrassing.
"No reason," I say, and focus on the computer.
I finish making the presentation soon after that and glance at the time. We still have fifteen minutes to go. I decide to fiddle with the colours to make the PowerPoint more pretty. In my periphery, Curtis flips through the play. I would have thought working on a class activity with Curtis would be more exciting, but we waste the rest of the time making minuscule changes and avoiding looking at each other too much. If Curtis was anyone else, I'd make small talk, but I don't even say something as simple as "how has your day been?" And neither does he.
Ms Lipson announces that it's time to start presenting. I don't pay attention to the presentations, instead wondering if Curtis and I are going to avoid talking for the rest of high school. I don't want it to. I want things to go back to normal, and by normal, I mean the way we were at Lonsdale Bay after we stopped hating each other.
Ms Lipson calls on us, interrupting my thoughts, and I muster up a smile as I walk to the front of the classroom with my laptop and Curtis behind me with his notebook. After I share my screen on the whiteboard, we read out the slides and explain them.
Most of my classmates look bored as we present, and a pair of girls are gossiping under their breath. Kennedy's face is expressionless.
