Mr North took charge, but didn’t even attempt to show sympathy. ‘Mr Michaels, Miss Ellis, take the girls on to the campsite.’ The frustration was clear in his voice. ‘I’ll help little Miss Carswell back to the road. We’ll call someone to pick her up.’

The rest of them made their way to the campsite as one big group. There were no more incidents except someone saw a wood scorpion and freaked out – ‘I didn’t even know we had scorpions here! Are they venomous? Will they be at the campsite?’ – and a few girls got sunburnt, Jasmine included.

Once they arrived, Jasmine, Cierra and Madison hurried to find the most private camping spot they could. They wanted to sleep as far as possible from the creepy Trapper’s Hut in the centre of the clearing: a one-room hut made of dark, rotting timber that creaked in the wind, windows boarded up and the cracked door swinging wide.

They found a spot of soft grass between two dolerite boulders and a fallen cider gum, on the very edge of the cleared camping area, almost bordering the cliff itself. Miss Ellis had decided the sleeping arrangements. Madison and Cierra would share a tent and Jasmine would be sharing with Bree, in a tent she’d pitched right beside theirs, snug against a boulder. Georgia was sleeping in with Carmen, who had already set up her tent near the Trapper’s Hut.

Jasmine was midway through erecting her tent, sweating in the muggy spring air, swatting away bristle flies and one stubborn spider wasp.

‘Didn’t think to ask me whether I wanted the tent here?’ came Bree’s harsh voice from behind her.

Jasmine turned to see her blotchy red face, tight with fury. ‘Sorry. Thought this was a good spot.’

‘I just thought you might’ve asked me where I wanted to sleep tonight. You know, considering.’

‘Sorry. But look, it’s already half up.’

Bree clenched her fists and spat, ‘Bitch.’ She stomped off.

Madison laughed. ‘Notice how she didn’t offer to help?’

‘Alright over here, girls?’ said Jack, appearing at Jasmine’s side. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, Mr Michaels. Jasmine just needs a bit of help setting up her tent,’ said Madison. ‘Aren’t you hot in that shirt?’

‘Let me help you with that,’ said Jack, taking the tent pegs from Jasmine’s hands.

She stood back and let him finish it, brushing the wasp off his back when it landed there: a large black wasp with orange wings and antennae. It moved away with its weird jumping motion.

‘At least there won’t be any huntsmen around our tents tonight,’ she mused.

Cierra shuddered. Jasmine knew she hated spiders: especially the thick, palm-sized huntsmen that bred around the mountains.

‘I reckon this spider wasp has a nest in this fallen tree,’ said Jasmine.

Cierra squealed. ‘What the fuck is a spider wasp?’