I huff out a laugh. I wouldn’t mind having children.
The video shows a clip of racing sperm and an animation of a growing foetus. Kaito mutters, “fuck this shit” and takes out his phone and hides it behind his textbook. He taps on Instagram and starts liking photos of bikini-clad models. His girlfriend Tiana won’t like that. Weeks ago, they fought over whether Kaito was allowed to watch porn.Who does she think she is, granting me permission whether to watch porn?he’d raged. He didn’t say any of this to Tiana, though. Kaito’s macho but when he’s around Tiana, he turns into a puppy. He’d do anything for her — including give up porn, I bet. I suppose that’s what love does to you. Or lust, at least. It turns you into an absolute sucker.
I watch the scroll of Instagram models pass by, and from the other side of Kaito, Declan points and makes lewd comments.
The video finishes and Miss Firth stands up from behind her desk. “Alright, what we’re going to do now is answer the questions 1 to 7 on page 289 of your textbook. Fifteen minutes to work on it should be plenty of time.”
With a sigh, Henry and I open our books and I fiddle with my pen to procrastinate. Henry stretches and his muscles flex.
“Let’s do the first three questions at least,” I say.
“Fine.”
“Don’t copy my answers though,” I warn him.
Henry smirks. “Why not, Dr Rosselli?”
I pretend to frown at him. He chuckles, but my nickname is just sad. I could never be smart enough to be a doctor. I’d rather be a professional footballer anyway, and the boys and I all have the same dream — to get drafted into the AFL. I’m not sure how likely the dream is. Odds are, I’ll go to a mediocre university and get a mediocre degree and spend the rest of my days in a mediocre office job.
“I’m starting,” I announce and flick through the textbook pages.
“That’s rich that you’re telling me not to copy your answers when you were looking at that Eva chick’s maths test.”
“Shit. Was I that obvious?”
“Anyone else would think you were checking her out.”
“Shut up.” I complete two questions without caving in and meeting his eyes. I can feel Henry looking at me, and it’s painful. I glance at him. “At least I’ll pass the test.”
Henry raises his hands. “No judgement. I’m jealous.” With a jolt, I realise he’s completed more questions than me. So he wasn’t looking at me that entire time. I suppose I’m just a narcissist.
I force myself to go back to my questions, fighting the urge to talk to Henry. When I got my timetable this year and saw that all of my classes — apart from English — were with Henry, my heart leapt, then plummeted when I realised I would be more distracted than ever. Henry is the worst person to be in a class with.
“Finished,” Henry says three minutes later. “Look at that. I beat you.”
“It wasn’t a race,” I say, ignoring him nudging my knee with his own under the table.
He smiles before raising his voice. “Miss Firth, I’m finished. Can I fill up my drink bottle?”
“Of course,” she answers. “Alright everyone, five minutes to go—”
“Follow me in a minute,” Henry says in a low voice, mouth near my ear. Can he hear my heartbeat stuttering?
I’m too slow to open my mouth and protest, and he’s halfway across the classroom, walking as if he knows I’m watching.
I shouldn’t go. He can’t boss me around.
But I wait a minute before standing up and telling Miss Firth I’m going to the bathroom, and walk out of the classroom like Henry said I would.
I hate myself for being such an absolute sucker.
3
Eve: Swollen Lips
Through the window of my history classroom, the branches of gum trees hang low, swinging in the breeze. Magpies and honeyeaters swoop through leaves, khaki green against a cloudless sky.
“Hey Eve,” someone says from behind me, and I jump in my chair.
