‘I could carry the bike for a while,’ Lucy says. ‘I have great muscles because of all the glassblowing.’ I heave the bike higher on my shoulders. At least carrying it gives me an excuse for breathing heavy, other than walking next to her great muscles. ‘You say pretty much whatever’s in your head, don’t you?’ ‘It’s better than saying nothing, which is what you said on our date. I really wanted to talk.’ ‘You made that pretty clear.’ This time I let her call it a date. ‘I had it all worked out. I thought we’d talk about art. About Rothko. Or maybe books. Or the weather. There was a hurricane in the north that day.’ She’s the strangest girl I’ve ever met. I didn’t know she was this strange when I asked her out in Year 10. I’m not sure I would have asked her if I did. ‘So how did our conversation go? The one you had in your head?’ ‘I thought I’d say something like, “Wasn’t that Rothko we saw at the gallery cool?”’ ‘Very casual.’ ‘Well it sounds less casual now because we just fell over a hill.’ ‘True.
