peering out from under a grey hoodie. I’m just hoping that, maybe, getting the story out of my head and onto my laptop might mean I stop thinking about what happened to us. Because I do. All. The. Time.

It was just over three months ago when I first remember taking notice of the new boy at school—the one who constantly wore a hoodie pulled up over his head. It was the same day my best friend, Megan, finished up at Central High to go to a new private school in The Bay. It had been one of the worst days of my life. I'd been dreading it ever since Megan announced she'd applied for a scholarship there. On her own. Without me. And it wasn't as though I'd never smelled alcohol before. I had, plenty of times—on Grandpa's breath when we'd kiss hello, on his clothes, his hands, the glass he was drinking from.

But that lunch break, when I sniffed the bottle that Paige was passing around, I didn't pick it as alcohol. I guess not all alcohol smells the same. Paige had us sitting around in a circle as though we were preparing to play some kids’ game like pass the parcel. It wasn't our usual sitting place as it was no ordinary occasion. My heart was thumping in my chest with such force I was sure the other girls must have been able to hear it.
‘In honour of Megan's leaving us for a better place,’ Paige had said, sitting up straight, a stainless-steel, hot pink drink bottle resting where her shins met. ‘I brought a little something special for us to share.’ Paige was adult-beautiful. Her blonde hair flowed across her face in waves like she'd just stepped out of a shampoo commercial. Even the pink-tipped ends somehow failed to clash with our maroon school uniform. And she had blue eyes that sparkled like glitter when she smiled—at least they did back then. I would have given anything to have her eyes, rather than my own pale-blue-in-fact-almost-grey eyes.

I ran my hand over my limp ponytail, feeling its lifelessness with every fingertip. Not quite blonde, but certainly not brown. I hated everything about my hair. I swallowed hard. Paige looked so sweet and innocent, but I didn’t trust her; experience warned me Paige was setting us up for something I wasn’t going to like.
‘I thought we should share a special drink’—Paige was holding the bottle up as though it was something to worship—‘as a kind of soldiery pack to send Megan on her way.’
I looked at Paige blankly.
‘Do you mean solidarity pact?’ Megan asked.
Paige rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever.’ She flicked her hair over her shoulder and flashed a flirty smile. ‘As we drink from the one bottle’—she held the bottle straight out before her— ‘let's remember that no matter where we are, we're in this together. Teachers are the same no matter what school we go to. It's us or them. And we choose us, always.’ She unscrewed the lid. Her lips barely brushed the bottle's mouthpiece as she poured the off-white, milky liquid into her mouth.
While Megan was my best friend, Paige was the leader of our little group. I won’t deny that I had only stayed friends with Paige because, in being her friend, I held position in our year level: not one of the popular girls, but not a friendless plebe, either. Don’t get me wrong, I liked Paige—I still do, after everything. She was messed up for sure, but sometimes she could be the most amazing and fun person to be with.What I get now is, Paige and I just were preparing to walk different life paths. I was the pastor’s kid, a ‘good’ student that teachers pretty much left alone—a description I both loved and despised. My parents loved this side of me, which made my life at home okay. Paige hated it,which caused problems sometimes, but never anything to stop us being friends. I’m pretty sure it was only because we’d been friends since primary school that she allowed me to stay in thegroup. But I didn’t mind because Paige was beautiful and kind of a free spirit. I was just acceptable. High school can be brutal, but knowing the right people makes it bearable.

Keira smiled as she took the bottle from Paige and after giving the bottle a little shake, smelled it. ‘Mmm chocolate,’ she said, winking at Paige. Keira had the most amazing eyelashes. They were so long they moved in the breeze, making her brown eyes look as though they were dancing. She was Paige’s best friend but she was my friend as well. We kinda looked after Paige together, tried to stop her from doing anything too stupid, if you know what I mean. Or at least it used to be like that—once we got to Year Seven, our first year of middle school, Paige seemed to do whatever she wanted, regardless of what I thought.

Paige motioned for Keira to have a drink, and she took a sip like Paige had, as though they'd done this sort of thing together before. She looked a little strangely at Paige, who grinned like a lioness watching her family devour the meal she'd just caught. I swallowed hard as they began whispering behind their hands, giggling. I could feel heat growing up my neck and spreading like a disease across my face. Why couldn’t I hide my emotions like a normal teenager? I glanced up at the gum trees, and silently prayed the shadows they were casting were enough to hide my discomfort. There had to be more than just some sort of chocolate milk in the bottle.
I wiped clammy hands down my checkered school dress. ‘You know, Megs, you're so lucky to be going to a new school,’ I whispered, pulling my socks up higher to stop the grass irritating my legs, trying to ignore what was happening with the bottle beside me. ‘You’ll have the rest of Year Nine to make some awesome new friends and be all set for senior school next year.’
‘Yeah, but I’m missing out on our Formal. That completely sucks.’
‘It’s just a stupid dinner.’ I picked at the grass, holding back the tears threatening to spill. I was already dreading going to the dinner without Megan. Keira and Paige would hang out together all night—I’d be the third wheel. And some boy asking me to be their date to the dinner was about as likely as Cinderella and Prince Charming actually living happily ever after.
‘I'm happy for you’—I attempted a smile at Megan—‘but, school already sucks enough. I can'timagine how awful it’s going to be without you here.’
Megan’s eyes seemed to be following the bottle. ‘Have you asked your parents about coming to St Andrew’s next year?’
‘My parents can't afford it, you know.’ I hung my head low. ‘Besides, I'd still have to survive the rest of the year here without you.’
‘Yeah, but it would be doable, wouldn't it?’
I shrugged. What did it matter? I was never going to St Andrew’s. It was public schooling the whole way for me.
‘You've got to hold on to our plan, Kat.’ Megan squeezed my hand. ‘We'll find a way for you to go to St Andrew’s, too. Don't give up hoping.’
I looked back out over the school oval, a cool breeze trying its best to rustle the grass that was beginning to die—winter had brought hardly any rain. If only I could get out of this place. The grass was sure to be greener at St Andrew’s—they could probably afford sprinklers, and the water rates to go with them.
‘Right, girls, your turn. Come on, Megan, have a taste.’ Paige was pushing the bottle into Megan’s chest.
Megan screwed up her nose.
‘You have to,’ Paige said, pouting. ‘It’s my little farewell gift to you.’
Megan took the bottle and I heard her breathe in deeply. She held the bottle to her lips, her hand wobbling, the metallic pink turning her left cheek red as she hesitated. As Megan sucked in the ‘milk’, I watched her eyes widen and she looked for a moment like she might spit it back out. They began watering as she placed the bottle gently on the ground. She gave Paige a strange look.
‘Isn't it great?’ Paige raised her eyebrows, her face alight with an elated smile.
Megan didn't say anything.
Paige picked up the bottle and thrust it into my hands. ‘Your turn, Mary.’
'Mary' was the name Paige called me when she thought I was being a suck-up, not taking chances, or not joining in on some risky adventure she had concocted. 'Mary' was her way of giving me no choice but to go along on one of her reckless schemes. It was a threat—join in, or suffer the fate.
My stomach sat at the bottom of my throat as I took the bottle and brought it to my mouth. I couldn’t smell anything but chocolate milk. For a moment, my muscles relaxed.I slowly tipped the bottle back. My lips warmed and a deep heat flowed down the back of my throat. It was a weird feeling, a weird taste. Not disgusting, but nothing like I'd tasted before. I didn't like it. But I didn't hate it, either. There was no doubt it was more than just chocolate milk. A great mass of cloud descended as the realisation of what I had just done filled my head. I had sipped from Paige's drink bottle. I had drunk ... what?

Paige grabbed the bottle off me and swore under her breath. ‘You guys are gutless. You need to take a good swig of it, like this.’ She raised the bottle to her lips and took a couple of big gulps of the milky liquid.
Megan spoke the words that were moving around my head like a huge freight train: big, heavy. ‘Is that, like, alcohol or something?’ She coughed a little as she spoke.
Paige nodded. ‘What did you think, that I'd actually brought a chocolate milkshake to see you off to your fancy private school?’
I put my head down. I clawed my way through the fog in my brain and remembered having thought that exact thought. Well, I may have considered it, but I don't think I ever believed it. It was a cute thought, that a chocolate milkshake could have been the delicious surprise Paige had brought for us to share. But no, she brought us alcohol. Her Mum's favourite, she'd said.

Paige took another swig,then passed it around for us all to drink from again. Keira and Megan took bigger sips this time, as though fulfilling some kind of sister pact. I waited my turn with a dry mouth. I tried to convince myself that I had a choice; I didn't have to drink it again. Surely, if I chose not to take another sip, my friends would understand. And with time, they would forgive me. Eventually, we'd move on. But then again, would it hurt to have another sip? No one else would ever know. It could be our group’s secret; a stupid story to laugh about.There was more than one way that this scenario could play out, but which choice—to drink or not to drink—had the least consequences?

The bottle was pretty much empty by the time it got back to me. Only one mouthful left, at best. I toyed with the bottle for a moment, looking at it, rolling it in the palms of my hands. Three sets of eyes watched me. I could see the word forming on Paige's lips: Mary. Her narrowed eyes were telling me to hurry up and drink it. I stared down at the bottle. The first sip, I hadn't known what I was doing. This time, I'd be knowingly drinking alcohol at school. And so, when Mr Wally walked around from behind the row of pine trees that lined the school boundary, I froze. It hadn't occurred to me to empty the bottle, to tip it over, even just to hide it behind my back. I had still been in the process of deciding whether I was even going to sip from it again. I'd never been good at getting caught out. Mum reckoned she could tell when I was guilty even before she asked the question.

Why exactly Mr Wally felt the need to inspect the bottle, I don't know. Maybe it was Paige's reputation. Maybe there was a smell in the air. Maybe it was the bewildered look on my face. All I knew was that I was suddenly being marched toward the principal's office. And Mr Wally had a bright pink drink bottle in his hand, with my fingerprints all over it.