JOURNAL OF ROSE INGRID CASTLE
After the first night, Billy always came to our tent after Mum and Daniel went to bed. Every night as we played cards, we chatted in cycles about nothing of significance – jokes and stories, comparing notes about teachers, asking each other questions about school or sport or favourite foods. Mum knew what we were up to (we weren’t that quiet), but she and Daniel seemed happy enough to turn a blind eye. I wasn’t stupid enough to think this would last. I knew she would be storing it up, along with a list of grievances that she would use against us when we got home, but, like her, I was having so much fun I found it difficult to care.
On the second night, I took a sip of beer when Billy offered. On the third night, I had a few sips. Mum and Daniel never seemed to notice that there was beer missing, and I loved the way it made me feel close to Billy. We played a different card game each night – Billy’s aim was to find a card game that Fern wasn’t good at (spoiler: he never found one). Every time Fern won, Billy complained and rolled his eyes while I shushed him through giggles.
‘Give us a chance, would you?’ he’d say, smiling.
I had to admit, I was enjoying being the one who was less proficient with games, purely because it meant I got more of Billy’s attention. Sitting by his side, sharing his can of beer and listening to him whisper the rules to the games in my ear . . . it felt like something I could do forever. I guess it was around this time I realised I had feelings for Billy. I couldn’t help it. I felt it each time his knee brushed against mine. I may have been imagining it, but sometimes it felt like he pressed his thigh against mine on purpose. The idea that he was seeking me out, actively wanting me . . . it was intoxicating. I wanted to be around Billy as much as I could. I became his shadow, from the moment he woke up until the moment he went to bed. Where Billy was, I was too.
‘Like a puppy dog,’ Mum said under her breath one day. ‘Don’t go making a fool of yourself, Rosie Round.’
She said it out of earshot of anyone else (classic Mum), but the comment ate away at me. If Mum had noticed my feelings for Billy, did that mean Billy had noticed too? I made my mind up to keep my distance. So later that day, when Billy suggested we all go down to the river for a swim, I offered to stay back and help Daniel repair a hole in the tent.
‘Aw, come on,’ Billy said, looking genuinely disappointed. ‘It will be more fun if we all go.’
I managed to shake my head. ‘I’ll meet you there, later, okay?’
He didn’t protest again, but he looked sad as he and Fern trudged off. When I snuck a look at Mum, she looked victorious. Once again, I realised, I’d let her manipulate me.
I repaired that hole just about as quickly as I could. When it was done, I all but ran down to the river. Mum and Daniel came too, walking just a short distance behind me. I reached the river a minute or so before them and noticed Billy and Fern were nowhere to be seen. I scanned the trees, the water, the rope swing. Downstream a couple of inflatable boats held half a dozen people who were shouting to each other and laughing. But no Fern or Billy.
‘That’s odd,’ Daniel said, when he and Mum joined me. ‘They said they were coming here, didn’t they?’
‘I’m sure they’re about somewhere,’ Mum said, even though there weren’t a lot of other places to go down there. Daniel had just suggested I run back to camp when we were startled by the disturbance of water, followed by a sharp, deep intake of air.
‘Billy!’ Daniel exclaimed. ‘There you are!’
Billy stood waist deep in the water, gasping for breath. He didn’t appear to be harmed. He was grinning. His torso, which was long and pleasantly defined, shimmered with water.
‘Where were you?’ Daniel exclaimed.
‘Where is Fern?’ I said.
Billy’s grin slipped. ‘She’s not here?’
I felt a flutter of panic. There were lots of reeds in this part of the water. What if Fern had got tangled in them? What if she was stuck? I was about to launch myself into the water to look for her when there was another splash, another gasp for air. And then, Fern was there, wet from head to toe. Unlike Billy, she was barely panting.
Billy groaned. ‘No way!’
‘We were seeing who could hold their breath the longest,’ Fern explained. ‘I won, again.’
‘She must have an oxygen tank under there,’ Billy muttered.
‘I read a book about free diving,’ Fern explained.
Billy rolled his eyes.
‘It’s called lung packing, Billy,’ Fern said. ‘It’s a very simple technique.’
Billy shoved her playfully and Fern frowned. I knew she would see this kind of gesture as confusing after she had provided him with such useful information. After a moment, she shoved him back. Fern had been doing karate for a few years by then and was stronger than she looked. Billy fell backward into the water.
‘Feisty,’ he said, laughing as he got back on his feet. ‘Best out of three?’
Fern looked confused but she nodded and they both inhaled deeply and then dived under the water again. As they disappeared, I noticed Mum was watching the interaction closely.
‘I think someone’s got a crush,’ she said to Daniel, waggling her eyebrows.
‘Who?’ Daniel said, oblivious. He was bent
