He is in her room. She’s out, but he comes in sometimes to look at the photos on her wall. Lying back, jumping. Her arms, long, bare. Her legs, long, bare.

He’s seen the other photos, of course. The school told him. They were crude and fake, but they spoke to something he felt was true. It seems to Graeme that when Rose started the modelling, she changed. She became – in those images, real and fake – available.

Or, at least, half available. The two parts of her overlap. The edges blur. Sometimes, talking to her is like having double vision. She’s in the same old jeans, but her hair and makeup are perfect, and as she talks, you can see she knows they are perfect. You can see the awareness hanging behind heavy mascara, sitting alongside her normal awkwardness and a strange kind of fear. She knows, and she takes pleasure in knowing, but she is also still a child.

When Rose first came, she was dirty, and she had a sour, nasty smell Graeme associated with old people. She was easier, then. He was better, then.

Graeme watches her as she moves around the house. She’s self-conscious in her new clothes, but when she doesn’t know you’re there, it’s like he’s watching a movie star. Sometimes he stands quietly in the hall, and if she has her bedroom door open he sees her moving forwards and backwards across the gap. Moving her hair as it sits on her shoulders. Lifting her T-shirt over her head.

There are fewer in today. Dillon. No Alisha. Rose, with bags under her eyes. Six more.

‘Queer theory,’ says Mr Bradman. ‘Judith Butler.’

They take notes as though they really care. He talks about the change in culture since 1965. He talks about progress. He talks about criminal codes, ages of consent. Gay marriage.

‘I knew no one at school who was out,’ he says. ‘But now the school environment is so much more accepting.’ He smiles. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘There’s lots of people out in this school,’ says Dillon to general approval.

‘Poppy and Farrah,’ he adds. ‘They’ve been together for years.’

People nod sagely. Rose’s eyes are big, her mouth a tight line of concentration as she stares at Dillon. He doesn’t seem to notice.

‘There are a couple of students who identify as transgender, as well, aren’t there?’ prompts Mr Bradman.

Dani, whose mother is Nikki from the office, says, ‘With a boy’s name?’

‘They would identify as boys, not just by name.’

Dani raises an eyebrow.

‘Come on,’ says Dillon with a world-weary air. Everyone laughs.

‘What?’ says Dani. She’s a little annoyed, a little flirty. ‘What do you mean, “Come on”?’

Rose watches intently. Dillon smiles knowingly.

‘I think we’re all a bit beyond that.’

‘I think he’s right,’ says Mr Bradman. ‘A lot has changed. And it all means that ideas that Butler talks about, such as camp, are not the only way to be gay anymore. You can have gay rappers, gay rugby players. There is less and less of an identifiable “type” of queerness.’