Jackson was sticking close to Achilleus. It had felt like something real when they’d both attacked that father together, hadn’t it? A moment. They hadn’t said anything to each other, just moved fast. One mind. Got the sucker from both sides. Surely Achilleus had noticed? The way they’d worked together. Surely he’d seen that she was more than just some museum nerd? Surely he could tell? But he was hard to get through to, with his gnarly head all chewed up, his manner like nothing mattered. His swagger. Like he could deal with anything and was laughing at you the whole time. She’d never known how to be with boys. Always said the wrong things, did the wrong things. Tried to impress them by doing something extreme, dangerous, wild, something she thought was cool or funny but they always thought was stupid and weird. It was OK when she was just hanging out, being their mate. She’d always had lots of friends who were boys, just no boyfriends. She wished it wasn’t important to her, wished she didn’t care. Why did it matter whether she had a boyfriend, whether boys even liked her?

Hormones probably. In the end it all came down to hormones. Those pesky little chemicals that made you act like an idiot. Turned you into a nutter or some swooning girly girl in a pink dress. Her dad had once had a long talk to her about being gay, just because she had short hair and preferred boys’ clothes to frilly skirts and lace. She knew she wasn’t gay. She was always thinking about boys. If anything she thought about them too much and wished with all her heart that she didn’t.

She remembered when life had been easier. At primary school, when you could hang out with other kids and that’s all they were – kids. Boy, girl, black, white, brown, tall, short, clever, stupid, straight, gay – none of that meant anything, they were all the same. Kids. But as she’d got older it got harder. And now here she was, heading deeper into the darkness of this unknown building, with God knows what waiting for them inside, and instead of being alert and thinking about what she’d do if something attacked, she was thinking about Achilleus. An ugly bully who hardly even knew she existed.

‘I was ahead of you,’ she blurted out, without really meaning to. Achilleus didn’t even turn. Just grunted.

‘Huh?’

‘Back there, when the father attacked, yeah? I got him just before you did.’

‘You reckon?’

‘I know.’

‘Paddy?’ Achilleus booted the little Irish kid up the backside to get his attention.

‘Who d’you reckon was quicker? Me or the girl?’

‘You,’ said Paddy. ‘For sure.’

‘He’s biased,’ said Jackson.

‘Are you biased, Paddy?’ Achilleus asked.

‘No way. You was quicker. She was just copying you.’

‘I was not!’ Jackson protested as Achilleus laughed.