‘I suppose,’ I say, feeling more lost now than ever. At least before I had an objective – uncover the stranger, secure true love’s kiss. But that’s not going to work now. Not with Owen. I can’t just force myself to like him like that.
‘Do you wanna go down and join them?’ Kellen says, pointing out of the window. The rest of Sycamore are heading towards our base. ‘Ethan won’t get by us a third time.’
‘Can we just skip it?’ I say. ‘Hawthorn are only going to win anyway.’
Kellen grins. ‘I was kinda hoping you’d say that.’
‘You were? But everyone will be wondering where we are.’
I take out my phone. There’s already a load of Where are you? messages from Chase.
‘Does it matter?’ says Kellen. ‘The day’s just gonna loop over again anyway.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘I don’t know,’ he says. ‘But there’s truly nothing I’d rather do less than play Capture the Flag for a third time. Do you trust me? I have a much better idea.’
‘Two–one to Hawthorn!’
Miss Madzikanda’s distant voice booms over the loudspeaker. The game is going ahead and our not being there has made absolutely no difference. The scoring is the same as always. Our team are no worse off without us.
‘I’ve always wanted to do this,’ Kellen says, opening the door to the boathouse. It smells like old wood and sawdust, with a hint of teenage sex. Though I wonder if I’m imagining that part. The reputation of this place precedes it.
‘I’m not having sex with you,’ I say, peering in.
‘You should be so lucky,’ he shoots back as we slip inside.
‘So what are we doing?’ I ask, looking around the racks of racing boats.
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he says, going over to a little wooden rowing boat bobbing up and down in the water. ‘I always wanted to join the rowing team …’
‘And yet you didn’t,’ I say.
‘Because they take all the fun out of it. Correct posture … synchronization … health and safety …’
‘Because nothing says fun like drowning.’
‘It’s just a little rowing boat,’ Kellen says. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’
‘You do remember I almost drowned twelve hours ago, right?’
I remember the horrifying feeling of being trapped underneath the water.
‘Of course,’ he says, peering into the lake. ‘Only you could drown in something so shallow.’
I look down, and in the sunlight I can see right to the bottom. Kellen’s right: it’s no more than a metre deep. Weird. I could have sworn it was far deeper than that last night.
‘Besides,’ Kellen continues, ‘if you fall in, I’ll jump in to save you.’
‘My hero,’ I say sarcastically, reluctantly climbing into the boat.
I sit facing him, watching as he grapples with the oars for a few moments.