On the way home, I talk about the experience with my friend Nat. He's not exactly one of the popular guys, but he's one of the sports boys, and he isn't a slouch in class so.... Yeah, okay, he's one of the popular guys. He's done stuff with girls, whilst my lips are virgin, so I figure that he'll give me some solid advice.

He's just about as useful as a box of wet matches in a snowstorm. He just listens to me and makes wise sounds as if he's pondering something profound. Then he asks a stupid question.

"So you like her, right?"

I parry like a pro. "I don't know, she's okay I guess."

"Just okay?"

"Uh huh, I mean she's hot, but you know how that is, right?"

"I do?"

"Yeah. She's not going to be into me. Plus, I think she's taller than I am."

"She's not. Does that matter?"

He throws me for a bit there, but I recover after I take a moment to pull myself up, "How do you know? and yes, it matters to girls."

"Okay."

Now he's not even pretending to pay attention. He's pulled out the rolled up jotter from his back pocket and is now proceeding to bat stones at trees, a stop sign and a couple of terrified agama lizards.

I change the topic to one of the usual ones.

"You know you could get suspended for taking a day out from the boarding house, right?"

The devil-may-care gleam is only in his eyes. His shrug is nonchalant, as if he's pushing the question off his back; a duck shaking off water.

"Maybe. But Ma is cooking palm nut soup today. Exceptions must be made."

I stifle the stab of envy. His mum cooks really well, and she's actually around most of time. My mum. Well, she's not so present. It's silly how often I let that get to me. And it's even sillier how he keeps using his mum's cooking as an excuse to break bounds.

He breaks my train of thought when he suddenly hooks an arm around my neck and pokes me just under my ribs.

"Stop overthinking things Mr. Potter. Headie no go suspend en star athlete*"

I choke out a laugh, I'm not too keen about him calling me that, because of the round-rimmed lenses I used to wear back in primary school. I'm sure he means well though. I punched his nose bloody once upon a time, and somehow that got us here.

"If you say so. Now let go, you're strangling me!"

"NEVARRRR!!"