In the mirror’s reflection, Hudson catches me watching. I look down and rinse the soap off my hands. Just as I’m drying my hands, the third guy comes out of the cubicles. Fin, I think his name was.
When he sees me, his brows jump up in surprise and he cocks his head.
My neck prickles. I’d get out of here, but my hands are still wet, and I won’t leave because of three kids my age. I’m not a pussy.
Fin studies me. “It’s the new kid,” he says.
3
Jasper: On The Floor
Trinity Nguyen’s bra is dark blue. Or purple. It’s hard to see the exact colour through her shirt. When Juliet was at Easton Grammar, she complained that the school shirts were too sheer, so all the girls had to wear white or beige bras. But today, Trinity’s bra is dark enough to be visible. And I think I can see lace —
“What do you think, Jasper?” Mrs Abbott asks.
I jolt, my eyes shooting from Trinity’s chest to the deputy principal. If Mrs Abbott knew what I was doing, she doesn’t let it show on her face. “Er, yes,” I say. “Sounds fine.” What are we talking about? I look down at my school diary in front of me, but I haven’t taken any notes because I was too busy perving on my co-school captain.
“And you, Imogen?” Mrs Abbott says, turning to the female vice school captain.
Imogen taps her pen against her diary. “I think it would be efficient if we could receive copies of the posters used last year as inspiration for this year’s advertisements for Sustainability Day.”
Imogen and Trinity continue discussing Sustainability Day, which is in a month’s time. I should talk too to demonstrate that I’m a valuable school captain but I’m still reeling from getting distracted by Trinity’s bra.
See, I have a problem. It’s the humiliating kind of problem that plagues thirteen-year-old boys, not eighteen-year-olds who are supposed to be halfway mature.
It’s a…how should I describe it? A…sex related problem —
“So Jasper, Trinity,” Mrs Abbot says, making me jump for the second time in two minutes. “You’ll make an announcement at assembly in a fortnight’s time. I’ll send you a copy of the speech used last year so you have an idea of what to say. Imogen, I’ll send you the list of stalls and events from the last couple of years, too. You can look over that with Dorian…”
Mrs Abbot glances at the empty chair next to Imogen, where the male vice-captain is meant to sit. None of us were surprised when Fin — full name Dorian Finley-Cavendish — didn’t show up. We all know why he got vice-captain, and it wasn’t to do with his merit.
Mrs Abbot continues talking and I jot down notes. “What was the amount of money fundraised last year?” I ask. “We’ll have to beat it.”
Mrs Abbot searches up the figure on her computer and Trinity shoots me a smile, which makes my body go warm. Yeah, that’s right. I say smart things. I’m a good school captain.
The meeting wraps up and the three of us leave Mrs Abbot’s office. Imogen leaves for the canteen, so I’m left with Trinity.
“Good job today,” I tell her.
She glances at me and her lips twitch. “Thanks.”
I’ll say it — Trinity is pretty. Her black hair falls down to her waist like an ink spill, and she’s got pillowy lips. She looks adorable until she opens her mouth and starts bossing people around. Honestly, she’s a bittoobossy, but that kind of makes her hotter.
I spend our walk trying to think of a good conversation topic — ideally something that shows off how awesome I am — but I’m too slow and then we’re at the lockers, putting our diaries and pens away, and then she’s waving, and then I’m watching her leave.
I kill the remaining fifteen minutes of lunchtime looking around the school for my friends. At the start of high school, I was part of a big group of boys that only grew smaller and smaller throughout the years as people broke away into their own groups. Last year, I used to be close with Curtis Claridge, but these days we don’t talk as much, since things got weird at a sleepover last year. So I hang out with Aiden, Hudson and Fin. Yes, Fin. I’ve been friends with him for a long time, even if he does things that annoy me, like shirking his responsibilities.
When I can’t find the boys at the oval or in the library, I text Aiden.
Jasper: Where are you?
Aiden: Bathroom.
I put my phone back into my pants pocket and head towards the boys’ bathroom closest to the Year 12 lockers. I hope they’re not bullying the little kids who dare enter their bathroom. The last time that happened, a teacher caught wind of it and told me as school captain, I have to be a better influence on my friends.
“Shit!” I hear a deep voice crow — Hudson — as I push the bathroom door open.
“Fin…” Aiden warns.
