‘We have to call her parents,’ Theresa said. ‘Does anyone have their number?’ I heard her call out to kids scattered around the yard.

‘My mum is a friend of her mum’s,’ Jamie lied. ‘She’ll drop her home.’

I don’t know how long I sat in Caroline’s yard in a mess. I managed to say, ‘Dad will kill me,’ as Jamie pulled me up.

He said, ‘You’re coming to my mum’s place.’ I kind of understood and didn’t resist. I kind of remember jumping in his mum’s car. The next thing I knew, everything was darkness.

I woke with my mouth feeling gross, dry and sour. I could hardly open my eyes and when I did, I had no idea where I was. I only knew it wasn’t Caroline’s place. And then I remembered some of the night before, mostly the stuff with Trent. I felt pins and needles shoot from my head to my stomach – that was churning from the alcohol. And then I remembered the spewing and I felt like spewing again. I was busting for the toilet. And then I realised that I must be at Jamie’s house.

I slowly lifted myself up to sit on the edge of the couch I had been lying on. I held my head in my hands and breathed deeply, hoping that it would help my head from spinning. It only made the pinch in my bladder tighter. I stood gingerly and scanned the room, trying to gain a sense of where the bathroom might be.

Luckily, when I walked through the hallway I found that the toilet door was open. As I sat on the toilet I tried to figure out what I could do. I didn’t even know where Jamie’s house was – I could only assume it was in The Village. I didn’t know if I could walk home. All I knew was that I couldn’t call Dad.

I washed my hands and made my way back to the couch. I lay down and tried to relax, knowing it was all that I could do. Then I remembered how much I was spewing last night, Jamie holding me up, and I knew that Caroline and everyone else were going to pay me out forever about it. I pulled the blanket up over my head and tried to block it all out.

Then I panicked, thinking that someone might have posted footage of me spewing all over social media. I frantically searched for my phone and saw it on a small table near the door. I grabbed it and started checking out Matilda’s socials. If the evidence was going to be anywhere, it was going to be there. I think she’d take great pleasure in broadcasting a drunk Aboriginal classmate.