The Gaps by Leanne Hall (classic literature list .TXT) 📕

She’s joking, of course, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the way it ends up, and for some reason that scares me, even though I like Tim.

Compared to Liana or me, Katie doesn’t really want much—she doesn’t want to travel, doesn’t want to study after school. She likes to keep things simple. She’s been made a supervisor at her cinema job, and they’ve promised to make her a manager as soon as she turns eighteen, so she’ll be able to make real money and buy the car she’s been saving for.

‘You look happy,’ I say, and she does. Old Katie used to be much pricklier than this.

‘I see Brandon hasn’t forgotten you.’ Katie gives me a pointed look.

I’m saved by hot breath in my ear; Liana collars me from behind and smooshes her cheek against mine.

‘Who can blame him, she’s such a babe.’

I slap at her head blindly and she wriggles away, not wanting her look to get ruined. Liana’s face is perfect as usual, her tan skin glowing, brows immaculate, eyeliner swooping in thick wings, highlighter making her cheekbones zing.

‘Although, so far this year he’s dated Teresa Vi Nguyen and Kristy Au, and made out with Glydel from Year Eleven,’ she continues, ‘so his yellow fever is real.’

‘Real and deep,’ Katie says to the bonfire.

‘Yuck.’ It grosses me out, but I don’t want to think about it. ‘You have to teach me how to do that braid.’ I tug on Liana’s hair. She’s wearing the same Fuzzy Peach perfume that she’s had since Year Seven.

‘Hate to break it to you Chlo, but that’s not all her real hair.’ Katie pops another can.

Liana refuses to rise to the bait. Her hair has been down to her bum since she was eight. We have a pact to keep our hair long until we’re eighteen. ‘When are you coming back to Morrison, seriously?’

‘I don’t think I am.’

‘Aren’t you scared of Doctor Calm, though? I swear, Chlo, I’m worried about you, all the time.’

‘They haven’t proved he’s connected to the school.’ I take the beer off Katie and drink until my smoky throat recovers.

Katie snorts. ‘Yeah, he’s connected! How clueless do they think we are?’

‘It’s wrong, that’s what it is!’ Liana’s volume ramps up. ‘They’ve got loads of money and they should be protecting you more. I can’t believe there aren’t security guards! If someone was snatching girls from my school, I’d get armed guards.’

‘Won’t matter,’ says Katie. ‘Because it’ll turn out to be one of your teachers, of course. The one you least suspect.’

There had been a lot of gossip going around about various teachers, but the police profile seemed to have put an end to it. It said that the offender might travel with his job, and would definitely be away from home or work regularly. That couldn’t be any of our teachers.

After the profile came out I thought it only had to be a matter of time before someone came forward, but nothing has happened. It’s gotten awfully quiet around the school this week, and in the media too. We’ve had exams, and everyone has been studying.

‘Listen,’ Katie says, ‘I heard that they’ve got new DNA evidence from an older case, and that they’re getting things together for an arrest. Have you heard about that? Tim’s cousin is in the police force.’

‘I don’t know.’ I give the can to her.

‘If you get taken…’ Katie sips. ‘The thing you’re supposed to do is breathe in real deep when you’re tied up, and then when you breathe out—bam! The ropes are loose.’

‘Did you get that email too?’ I can’t believe it’s travelled so far.

‘We want you back!’ The fire has finally caught, and orange light flickers across Liana’s face. ‘I always imagined we’d graduate together.’

I let her hug me. I imagined the same thing too, and that we could go to the same uni as well, even though Liana has been settled on Biomedical Science for ages and I have less of a clue than ever.

Katie wanders off to find more firewood. I’m left alone with Liana, so now’s my chance.

‘Hey, L, I was hoping you might be able to help me with an art project.’

‘Yeah?’ She looks interested so I plunge on. It’s not like Liana hasn’t posed for me in the past.

‘I’ve decided to do a portrait for my final art project this year, and I need a model.’

‘You want to paint me again?’

‘No, I’ve been concentrating on photography recently.’

She screws up her face.

‘I need to do something different,’ I say quickly. ‘Mix things up. I’ve already got enough sketches and paintings in my folio. Let me show you.’

I pull up some Bill Henson images on my phone, the ones that look like teenagers have had a wild night out, and Liana scrolls.

‘Nope nope nope,’ she says. ‘They’ve hardly got any clothes on! You want me to flash this butt around in public? On a car bonnet?’ She scrolls. ‘Mum’d have a heart attack and they will throw me out of the church choir.’

‘It’s more the light and the mood. You don’t have to show any skin at all, if you don’t want.’

In my folio I’ve pasted Henson images alongside Vermeer paintings as examples of the light and mood I’m trying to capture, as well as all sorts of other things that have caught my eye. Advertisements featuring sleeping or reclining women, exposed and abstracted parts of women’s bodies, fairytale illustrations from falling-apart anthologies, newspaper snippets about missing women. I have no idea yet if any of it fits together.

‘I thought we could go out to the netball courts at sunset?’ There are rickety bleachers at the courts behind Meridian. If Liana sat right at the top, her hair might fly around in the wind, maybe the streetlights and the sky might combine to make something good.

Liana hands my phone back. ‘Sorry babe, you know I’m way too self-conscious.’

‘It’s okay.’ I half-knew she would say no. It would have been a nice excuse