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awkward silence.
    â€˜You just need to sign here,’ she pointed, and then stapled the till docket to the paper. ‘Your dad will sort it out with me later on.’
    â€˜Thanks,’ I mumbled.
    My shoulders are red where the backpack straps cut in and my legs are like jelly. The joke is, I’m too buggered to cook myself any of the food I lugged back. That walk is too far to do both ways in one day! One way, maybe, okay, you can do that, but both—with a load to haul on the way back? It’s too much. I can just hear Dad giving me heaps about being young and fit, blah blah blah. Shove it up your datehole, Dad, is all I can say. You need training to be able to do this sort of stuff. You don’t just stand up one day and crank out a marathon, do you? Jesus fucking Christ, he has no idea. I’d like to see him do what I’ve just done. I need a bit of humour in my day.
    One good thing, though. One good thing. That shitty town does have a post office. Well, kind of. The shitty little shop is a shitty little postal agent, so they collect shitty mail. The woman explained it to me when I asked her if there was a postbox anywhere—there wasn’t even one of them, can you believe that? She just collects it all in an old Australia Post canvas bag. Talk about a two-bit town. There’s a phone box out the front of the shop. How very high-tech. Bet the phone doesn’t work. So, anyway, I could send my old man his stupid letter, and there was some mail waiting for me. I’ve got it in my bag, saved it for when I got home as a sort of reward, seeing as there’s jack shit else to do and I feel like I just survived the Kokoda Track. I got three things: one from the old man, one from Craggs, and one from—joy!—Bella. All that should provide hours of entertainment once I’ve slept off this pain. I’ve never been so tired or sore in all my life. My legs feel like they’ve been invaded by small men with hammers.
    I might not even make it to bed. This old couch is actually quite comfortable, even if it does smell of twenty-year-old mushrooms...

11
    A small package falls out as I open her letter. It’s wrapped in soft purple paper and for Joel is written on the outside. I look at it and my heart expands stupidly for a minute. I put it over to one side. Calm down, Joel. Calm. I straighten out the pages.

    Joel,

    How goes it out there, you crazy forest hippie?

    Won’t tell you I’m missing you. Cool news first: the girls soccer team is cranking! We seriously rock! Razed Willetton to the ground like daisies under a lawnmower on Saturday. My old man was so impressed he could barely keep his gob shut ... he’s been calling us the Hammy High Hitwomen ever since.

    I’m gunna go for the school play this year. This new drama teacher has actually managed to incite a bit of enthusiasm. He’s in his mid-twenties and is almost normal, as opposed to, say, being a fifty-year-old gay, washed-up, Shakespearean actor who prances around in silk scarves and talks about ‘metaphor’ and ‘when I was in acting school’. This guy ... you’d really like him. Auditions are in a few weeks.

    I hope you’re okay down there. Squeeze it for everything it’s worth, you know?

    I’ve got a warm spot in here for you, when all this is over.

    â€˜I tell you the past is a bucket of ashes.’—Carl Sandburg

    Write to me.

    Bella
    Oh I am gunna curl up with this and go to sleep with a sunbeam smile on my face. I wanna be in that warm place of hers. She is one gorgeous, smart, amazing girl. She’s right, she’s so right. This is my chance, this is my time—this is no fucking joke, for Christ’s sake! Dad saved my lucky arse, he’s given me this major opportunity to sort out my shit. And Bella’s giving me one too. I reckon ... this is my last chance with her. I’ve gotta go for it and be strong and smart. I can do