‘Lucy and I will be on one team, and you three on the other,’ I say.
‘You seem very confident,’ Alex says.
‘You’ll see,’ Lucy says.
They do see. Lucy and I win easily. Zach is grumpy, because Owen doesn’t understand the rules and Alex doesn’t care enough to try. Zach doesn’t like losing, but he especially doesn’t like losing through the incompetence of his fellow team members.
‘Okay, another round, but we change up the teams this time,’ Zach says.
Zach and Lucy team up, and I join Owen and Alex. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and look at my skin, check my teeth for food, my nose for anything that might be there. I look okay. It’s hard for me to trust that this will still be the case once I’m away from the mirror though.
‘Okay, let me make the strategy decisions and we’ll win,’ I whisper, when I get back into the room and I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor.
‘So what do we do?’ Owen says.
‘Watch and learn.’ I can be just a little bit bossy when I get caught up in a game.
‘I understand it now. I’ll be better. Let me help,’ Alex says, reaching for another Tim Tam.
‘Okay. You tell me what move you think we should make, and I’ll tell you if it’s right or wrong.’
‘When did you get so competitive?’ Alex says, shaking his head and grinning, before biting into the biscuit.
‘Natalie is the most competitive person I know,’ Zach says, overhearing us.
‘Says the guy who once told me to leave his house when I beat him at Monopoly,’ I say.
‘Well, that’s different. That’s Monopoly. The worst game in the world,’ Zach says.
Alex laughs. ‘Zach once cried when I put a hotel on Park Lane,’ he says.
‘I was six at the time,’ Zach says.
‘You were at least ten,’ Alex replies.
In truth, Zach and I are probably equally competitive. When I lost motivation for study in year twelve, I would sometimes imagine him up late, still working, and I would feel renewed energy. We enjoyed pushing each other to do better. Lucy, less so. I’m pretty sure she hated every moment of year twelve.
We’re currently in the strange limbo period of knowing our ATAR scores but not yet knowing which course or university we’ve got into, which is stressful for all of us, but especially for Lucy. She changes the subject every time we talk about university or our exam results.
We all got good scores. We had to. Zach and Lucy have very concrete career aspirations; he wants to be a doctor, and she wants to be a lawyer. Extremely cliché if you ask me (all the type-A high achievers at my school said doctor, lawyer or engineer when asked what they want to be), but at least they have goals. They want to be something. They’ll have real jobs. And money. I don’t know what I want to be. I mostly trained myself to do well at school as an antidote to all the dark thoughts, the ones that said ‘no one likes you very much’ and ‘you have nothing to show for your life except schoolwork’ and ‘you have the face of a monster’. As if each A+ could somehow offset each pimple.
I did Australian history, literature, Australian politics, psychology and English in year twelve. All subjects I knew I could do well in, where I could read and write and analyse. I was boringly sensible in my choices. I avoided maths and science because they’re not my strengths. I dreamed of doing drama and theatre, but I never had the confidence to perform—there’s too much focus on your face. You have to be comfortable with someone looking at you in order to stand on a stage. So I did everything The Right Way in order to get The Right Score and now I am waiting to find out if I got into The Right University. But none of this has helped me figure out who I am or what I want to do. Do you just wake up one morning after a really good sleep and know? (I’m relying on this happening.)
I may not have a plan for my life, but I do have a plan for winning at Resistance. Under my guidance, Alex, Owen and I are victorious—just—and Zach sulks, which makes it even sweeter. Alex insists we keep playing, because he’s remembered how much he enjoys beating his brother. We play again, although Owen has clearly lost interest, and this time we lose.
‘Okay, that’s it, you can go now,’ Zach says, looking smug and packing up the pieces.
‘We have to go anyway,’ Alex says, yawning and stretching. He’s not tall, but there’s something about him that seems to take up a lot of space.
‘That was fun. Hey, Natalie, you should come to Benny’s party with us on Friday night,’ Owen suddenly says to me.
Before I can react, Zach and Lucy both speak at the same time.
‘Yes,’ Lucy says.
‘No,’ Zach says.
Alex looks at them both. ‘Are you guys Natalie’s friends or her parents?’
‘A bit of both,’ I say.
I know why Zach is saying no—he thinks his brother and especially his brother’s friends are not Good People, and that I will be in way over my head at their party. Both of which are probably true. Lucy is thinking that Owen is hot and he’s inviting me somewhere, so I should go, and also—possibly—that she and Zach can have a guilt-free night alone. All of this is true too.
I look at Owen.
‘Who’s Benny?’
‘Our friend. He’s cool. You’ll like him.’
‘Okay. I’ll go.’ I say it before I can chicken out. I can’t actually believe I’ve said these words. I don’t go to things. I hate going to things. Most especially parties.
‘Give me your number and I’ll text you the details,’ Owen says, pulling out his phone. I can practically feel Lucy vibrating with excitement from the other couch.
I say my number out loud, twice, because I can’t stand the thought that this opportunity might be lost because he mistyped a number. He sends me a text straight away, the smiling emoji with sunglasses. That self-assured little emoji face has never looked so beautiful.
‘Now you’ve got my number,’ Owen says, unnecessarily.
I am trying to ignore the fact that I find his personality a tiny bit dull. ‘Awesome,’ I say. I hate the word awesome. It slips out when I’m nervous.
After Alex and Owen leave, Lucy grabs me and shakes me. ‘You’re going to a party with Owen Sinclair!’
‘I know,’ I say.
We hold each other’s arms and squeal and jump up and down, and when Zach looks disgusted, we do it again and collapse with laughter.
Mariella pokes her head into the room. ‘Everything all right in here?’
‘Natalie is going to a party with Owen.’
‘Owen Sinclair?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, goodness.’ Mariella looks surprised, pleased and worried all at once.
‘See? Mum thinks it’s a bad idea.’ Zach looks triumphant, even though normally agreeing with his mother about something like this would automatically make him change his mind.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to fall in love with him or anything,’ I say, even though I am already running multiple fantasies of our romance through my head. (Scene: Owen and I holding hands, walking into a cool cafe, filled with everyone I disliked from school, who all turn their heads and stare at us. I’m wearing an amazing leather jacket and my hair is falling in gentle waves, and someone takes a perfectly lit photo of us laughing together over coffee that somehow ends up all over social media because in this scenario we’re also low-level famous.)