Chapter One


    The second week of Year Eleven started under a sweltering haze. By the time Lila Moloney dragged herself to English, she was already wishing for the week to be over.


    ‘It’s way too hot to be productive,’ she thought with a sigh, fanning herself with her right hand, using her left to move her long, thick black hair from the middle of her back to her shoulder. It didn’t help that her new uniform felt scratchy against her skin. She readjusted her white blouse and navy button-on tie, attempting to at least look a little presentable. After all, her class also contained Asher Wagner, the long-running Dux of her cohort.


    It wasn’t as though she wanted to impress him in any way – but, next to his incredibly prim and proper appearance, with his perfectly ironed uniform and impeccably set hair, she always felt that she should at try to measure up to Forestglade College’s strict uniform regime. He’d been the poster child for all facets of pride the College held – excellent grades, flawless attendance, and even exemplary skills on the soccer field. It was hard not to feel inadequate next to him, even though their interactions over the years were few and far between. It had been that way since Lila had first met Asher, especially since his crisp, neat and tidy appearance was almost a rule at this point.


    Pursing her lips, Lila unzipped her emerald plaid skirt pocket and checked the time on her phone. It was nearing 8.20am, but Ms Shard was nowhere to be seen. In fact, she was rather alone outside the Language Block this morning. Had the sticky humidity driven away her classmates? Or had she misread her new timetable?


    Panic began to settle in her chest as she pulled her laden bookbag to her front, searching for her printed timetable. As soon as she shoved her hand into her bookbag, however, she spotted him approach. Except… there was something incredibly wrong with his appearance.


    Asher’s golden-brown eyes rested on her for a moment before sliding to the still-locked door of their English classroom. His hair was tousled, his tie askew and uniform creased beyond belief. He looked taller somehow – had he been that way last week? Lila couldn’t remember. Was she noticing this now because they were the only two out here?


    “Oh, good, there are some students today,” Ms Shard’s shrill voice tore Lila’s attention from Asher. Their teacher hobbled her way to the classroom, her silver glasses slipping down her heavily lined face, laptop bag slung over her right shoulder. She unlocked the door, admitting both Lila and Asher, before fussing about by the projector, plugging in cords and turning on screens.


    It seemed as though Ms Shard’s emergence summoned the rest of Lila’s classmates, who filed in with various states of sleepiness and complaints a few seconds after Lila sat in her seat towards the front.


    Ms Shard promptly began the roll call, before diving into this morning’s lecture. Lila absentmindedly traced circles upon her notebook, only half paying attention. Asher’s 180-degree shift in his appearance… perhaps it was the way he’d stood outside, his face devoid of any particular emotion, or his drastically dishevelled looks, that gave Lila pause. He was… different. And, not only was it needlessly distracting, it was distinctly disturbing.


    Surely there was a reason for this. His methodical meticulousness wouldn’t let him just forget to dress himself properly – right?


    “… your pairs have already been assigned,” Ms Shard’s piercing voice cut through Lila’s musings. “Once I’ve read out your pairs, please sit together. It’s difficult to complete a project between two when you’re not.”


    ‘Well, that much’s clear,’ Lila thought, already resigned to her fate. She hoped her partner would at least pitch in some effort to their project and was at least decently competent. Having been at Forestglade College since the second grade, she didn’t cling to this wish with any real hope – most of her classmates seemed to be cruising through high school without much care in the world, despite the absurd amount of money their parents paid for the privilege.


    “Asher and Lila,” called Ms Shard, “you two will present to the class an in-depth analysis of The Great Gatsby, please.” Ms Shard paused to pull a piece of shredded paper from a small wicker basket perched upon her desk. Lowering her glasses slightly, she squinted at the paper in her hand. “On Daisy Buchanan.”


    Immediately, Lila flushed as she began reorganising her stationery upon her desk. The seat next to her was empty, so it seemed like a given for Asher to move to sit beside her. Panic began to flood her mind – she prayed Asher wouldn’t realise she’d been thinking about him all morning, but then remembered that was ridiculous and flushed even harder.


    A few moments passed as Ms Shard continued reading through her list and assigning presentation topics before Lila caught a heavy whiff of a homely deodorant with notes of roasted nuts intermingling within the scent. With a sigh, Asher pulled the seat beside Lila out and heaved his extraordinarily bulky backpack upon his desk.


    “Let’s get this over with, yeah?” he whispered to Lila, who had stopped breathing. She nodded stiffly and turned away from him, intent on looking anywhere else, wishing that the tingles across her arms would stop dancing.


    Before long, Ms Shard finished her list and adjusted her PowerPoint presentation to a slide detailing what was required of them. Flicking to a new page in her notebook, Lila began to jot down the basics. Introduce the topic, the author’s intent, the current interpretation of the character, and their own analysis of how the character contributes to the themes, plot and strength of the book. PowerPoints are to be due on the Friday before presentation week.


    ‘Standard, but could be difficult,’ Lila thought as she brought the tip of her pen to her lips. From her peripheral vision, she could see Asher taking similar notes before tapping the end of his pen in a satisfied sort of way.


    “Any ideas yet?” he asked with a sideways glance at Lila. She immediately looked away again, this time as though her eraser was the most interesting object in the universe and shrugged nonchalantly.


    “I’ll need to think on it,” she replied in a low mumble.


    “Asher,” Ms Shard warned sharply, lips pursed. “I’ll need you to keep quiet still. I’m not yet finished assigning this.”


    Asher flashed Ms Shard an apologetic grin before solemnly looking ahead to the new slide displaying the criteria for the presentation. He fluffed the back of his hair and leaned backwards in his chair, somehow still maintaining his characteristically immaculate posture. Lila snuck a peek before tuning in to Ms Shard’s explanation of the criteria. Now that he had spoken to her, it was even more evident that there was still something bothering her about him. Was it the way he was talking to her so casually?


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    “Alright, now you can discuss your project amongst yourselves,” Ms Shard announced, flicking back to the slide with the task description. In an instant, the class burst into chatter that didn’t seem too related to the assignment, however Ms Shard had pulled out a stack of papers and begun leafing through them, pen at the ready.


    Lila reluctantly turned to her partner, who was looking through his notes. Asher’s eyes flickered to her before he pulled out his well-worn copy of The Great Gatsby which was already littered with brightly coloured sticky flags.


    “I’m actually glad we got this topic,” he said, flipping through the book, “she’s not a very complicated character.”


    Lila nodded, readjusting the top of her uniform with shaking fingers. Now that Asher was so close, she could see the faint outline of stubble across his jawline, further contributing to his scruffy image.


    He gave a heavy exhale, blowing his chestnut-coloured hair out of his eyes, resting his open book upon the desk face-down. “You’ve just been staring at me today. Are you good?”


    “S-Sorry,” mumbled Lila, heat rising from her cheeks, avoiding his critical gaze. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”


    Asher gave no response and instead picked up the book, browsing through the pages again. Lila fidgeted in her seat, looking down at her notes which now felt alien to her. How was she going to survive this project?


    <hr>


    “Girl,” sighed Elise Thorpe after one look at Lila’s despondent face as they ate lunch together under the shade of a tree by the school pond, a small respite from the sweltering sun bearing down on the school grounds. The tail end of January was certainly spitefully beating down upon those who were foolish enough to be wandering around outside during lunch in the Australian sun. Lila observed several pockets of students relaxing under trees behind Elise, much like they were, and others still scurrying to find relief under the school’s many awnings. Elise began retying her caramel curls into a manageable bun before asking, with a bobby pin in her mouth, “What’s wrong?”


    Lila unwrapped her sandwich and took an aggressive bite before shaking her head.


    “It’s so obvious something is wrong,” Grace Thomson said matter-of-factly. She was on Lila’s other side, taking a delicate bite of a carrot stick, a gust of wind throwing her honey-blonde hair into her mouth.


    Lila swallowed roughly before taking a gulp of water from her steel water bottle. She was about to get it over with and tell her two best friends about her blundering before her coffee-coloured eyes laid on Asher, walking across the yellowed field towards the three of them.


    “What the fuck has gotten into him?” gasped Elise, a hand jumping to her mouth, plainly horrified at his appearance.


    “Is that Asher?” whispered Grace, her bright ocean eyes wide.


    “Yup,” replied Lila glumly, though a glimmer of delight curled the corners of her mouth. At least her best friends could see what she was seeing.


    Asher stopped short of the three of them, his increased height casting a towering shadow over them with a hint of menace.


    “Lila,” he said simply. Lila looked up into his face, searching for reason within his expression as to why he had just determinedly strode up to them, but she couldn’t read his face at all.


    “Asher?” she replied, raising an eyebrow quizzically.


    “Can you come over to my place tonight?”


    Both Elise and Grace began to splutter and choke on their respective lunches, with Elise whacking Grace’s back to help dislodge a bit of carrot. Asher didn’t even look at them, despite the dramatic scene playing before him.


    “Um. Why?” she asked timidly, her eyes darting to her friends.


    “For the project. For English?”


    It was his turn to look puzzled at her. For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Lila felt blood rising in her cheeks as she looked away from him.


    “S-Sure,” she said softly, twirling a lock of her shiny black hair in her fingers. “I should be able to. J-Just send me your address. Email’s fine.”


    “I got your number off Daniel,” Asher quickly responded. “So I’ll just text you. See you then.”


    He swiftly turned on his heel before stalking back off in the direction that he came, a gust of wind blowing his navy school blazer gently. Were his shoulders always so broad?


    “Okay, what the fuck just happened?” Elise demanded, turning to Lila, her hazel eyes wide in amazement.


    “I almost died,” interjected Grace hoarsely, “did that actually just happen?”


    “Yeah,” Lila affirmed slowly. “We… uh. We got paired for English this morning. And I made such a fool of myself.”


    “How?” questioned Elise, taking a bite of her half-forgotten apple.


    “I just… couldn’t help staring at him.”


    Elise and Grace shared a swift, knowing look. Grace then gave Lila a shrewd smile.


    “Have you got a crush on Asher?” she asked in a sing-song voice. Lila stood, the suddenness of which jolting Elise and Grace, who stared up at her.


    “No,” said Lila firmly in a half-shout. “Definitely not.”


    “Well sit down,” insisted Elise, pulling at Lila’s skirt to get her to sit again. A few students threw fleeting looks in their direction before resuming their own conversations. Lila turned beet red as she fell back into a seated position on the grass.


    “Sorry. I just… well, don’t you think Asher’s weird?” Lila stumbled over her words. Elise and Grace nodded.


    “Super weird,” said Grace sagely, taking another carrot stick and waving it in Lila’s general direction. “And weirder still, he wasn’t acting weird with you!”


    “What?” asked Lila, tilting her head in Grace’s direction. “What does that mean?”


    “Oh God Lila, Asher has had a crush on you since like the fifth grade. Or forever, whichever came first,” laughed Elise, taking a swig of orange juice from the bottle that she’d bought from the tuckshop.


    “He has not,” Lila denied vehemently, raising her hands in a ‘stop’ motion. Elise was clearly overexaggerating.


    “He so has,” replied Grace, nodding deeply. “But he didn’t act all nervous with you just now. I wonder if he’s gotten over it.”


    “A-Anyway,” blinked Lila, attempting to brush over her friends’ claims. “He’s just… different now.”


    “Oh, totally,” agreed Elise, “I mean, it looks like he didn’t even attempt to iron his pants.”


    “Or brush his hair,” confirmed Grace, wrinkling her nose in disgust.


    “Yes, yes!” said Lila excitedly, “And so I just couldn’t help but look at him. Like a lot. And he called me out on it. And now we’re partnered for English.” Lila slowly deflated, holding her head in her hands.


    “It’ll be fine,” Elise remarked reassuringly. “I’m sure he’s forgotten by now already.”


    “But it was so awkward! He didn’t speak to me for the rest of class!”


    “And now he’s asked you over,” Grace noted slowly. “Do you reckon he’s going to murder you?”


    A shiver ran down Lila’s spine as Elise clapped Grace on the shoulder lightly. “Don’t say weird stuff like that! He’s not violent. Just… scraggly now… for some reason.”


    Lila’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out and saw a message from an unknown number listing an address. As she put the address in her Maps, another message buzzed through – It’s Asher btw.


    Elise and Grace leaned over to see Lila’s phone. Lila put it back in her pocket without responding. It looked like Asher’s place was along her normal bus route.


    “Maybe you should talk to your brother about giving randos your number,” suggested Elise.


    “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Lila cracked her knuckles, her eyes glinting. “I’m gonna teach him a lesson.”


    <hr>


    As the rest of Lila’s classes passed her by, she couldn’t shake the feeling of intrigue she’d felt since seeing Asher that morning. Thinking on it, nothing about his behaviour lined up. The relaxed way he spoke with her was, as Grace had pointed out, abnormal. Though, Lila still wasn’t convinced that he’d ever had a crush on her.


    Regardless, the theory she’d settled on by the end of Biology was… that he’d given up. But why?


    The scrape of stools against the linoleum flooring served as an uncomfortable backdrop to Lila’s contemplation. She distractedly said ‘goodbye’ to her classmates as she trekked towards the locker room to retrieve her belongings, deep in rumination.


    She folded her arms underneath her chest, her eyes hardly seeing her way forward, a gust of wind blasting at the leaf-riddled path before her, carrying with it the sun’s fury. The chatter of students animatedly filling in friends as to their summer holidays, normally something Lila attuned her ears to, didn’t so much as lift her eyes.


    Year after year, he put in the most amount of effort out of anyone in their cohort. And now, when faced with their last two years at school, arguably the most important years, he was giving up the goose? That didn’t make sense at all. Not for someone as prepared and reliable as Asher.


    Her curiosity had been piqued. He was hiding something – Lila was sure of it. The scent of a secret was tantalising – practically begging to be revealed. And, once her mind started ticking, it wouldn’t be satiated until she found an answer. That much was practically genetic.