“Nothing.” I rubbed the old battered watch strap. It was soft between my fingers. “I’m not talking about anything.”

I pushed past them back into the house.

“We’re just trying to keep you safe, Maggie.” Mum hugged Trig into her. “You and Trig.”

I thundered up the stairs and dived on to my bed.

Jed was going to fight so I could stay safe.

He wasn’t ever coming home.

And the wanderers were out there, keeping their own eldests close.

And what was I doing? Maggie middler?

Messing about at the boundary with a wanderer girl.

Singing songs. Wiggling ears. Stealing food.

I pressed Grandad’s watch against my cheek. Cool and smooth.

If I keep it with me forever, I’ll never forget about Jed.

The mayor had her gramophone going in front of her house. She always did when anyone went to camp. Lyle Parker was keeping it steady on its trolley, winding it up when it ran down. It coughed and stuttered and sent scratchy music across the square. Me and Trig covered our ears. Mum and Dad squeezed our shoulders. I shook them off. The whole rest of the town, groggy from the heat and the homebrew last night, stood silent around us.

Jed and Lindi came out with the mayor. They each had their billy lamp in one hand and a small bag in the other. The mayor stood herself between them. She gave Lyle a nod. He took the old sock out from under the gramophone and stuffed it into the trumpet, quietening the music.

“What can I say about these brave young eldests?” The mayor’s voice carried right across the square. “Nothing, perhaps, that you don’t already know, but I’ve been talking to their parents and their teachers…”

The mayor went on. Talked about the time Jed got his head stuck in the railings up at the crescent and old man Parker got him out with carbolic soap. And about how Lindi used to sit on her dad’s lap in the tractor pretending to do the steering while he ploughed up the wheat fields.

Jed banged his billy lamp against his leg. Lindi held hers completely still and fixed a smile on to her face: closed lips, high cheeks, feet together.

I don’t want to be here. Don’t want to watch them get into the mayor’s jeep and be driven away.

Dad squeezed my shoulders again. Mum was right next to him, squeezing Trig’s. I wriggled loose.

“These two eldests will be an invaluable asset to camp.” Some of Mayor Anderson’s hair had fallen out of her ponytail, like bits of old string. “So, before they depart for glory, could we all join together in the morning chant?”

The whole town stood straight and proud. Lifted their voices.

“Our eldests are heroes.

Our eldests are special.

Our eldests are brave.

Shame upon any who holds back an eldest