Australian Love Stories by Cate Kennedy

Oh…’ she spotted Stacey’s blonde hair and sickened expression. She giggled. ‘Wow. Didn’t expect that.’
    â€˜Neither did Stacey, by the looks of it.’
    She laughed.
    I made her laugh!
    My heart was pounding so hard I thought she must be able to see something poking out of my shirt. Like one of those cartoon characters. Like Johnny Bravo, ‘YoulookreallyprettyMirabella!’ I burst.
    She looked at me, puzzled.
    â€˜You look pretty,’ I tried again. Breathe, I instructed myself, just breathe .
    â€˜Thanks Chris,’ she looked surprised. She tucked a stray curl behind her sparkly headband. ‘I think you’re the only one who thinks so, though. No one ever asks me to dance at these discos.’
    â€˜They must be blind,’ I replied without thinking.
    Then I clamped my hand over my mouth in mortification. But Mirabella was only laughing again. I realised I hadn’t heard her laugh up close before. It was loud and squeaky.
    â€˜You’re a bit strange, Chris, aren’t you? But you’re nice.’
    I wanted to ask her to dance then. Every cell in my body was screaming at me to ask her to dance!
    I didn’t.
    Vanilla Coke vs Pepsi Blue
    2003 was the year Mum freaked out because the anchor man on Channel 9 kept up a constant stream of paranoia about the SARS virus. On a positive note however, on March 27, Mars made its closest approach to Earth in nearly 60,000 years. That was pretty cool to watch through Dad’s telescope.
    And Mirabella De Luca officially became my friend.
    As we left primary school behind, the labels of ‘cool’ and ‘uncool’ became blurred for a precious time, while people adjusted to the chaos of secondary education. When the dust finally settled, Ryan and I found ourselves somewhere in the middle. Not popular. Not geeks. Flexible.
    Mirabella would come over sometimes after school on the nights when Ryan was at rugby practice. We took my old dog, Milo, for walks in the park, and listened to music together. And then came home to drink big cups of actual Milo, with more chocolate powder than milk.
    Unlike Ryan, Mirabella was into bands you couldn’t hear on 92.9 or Nova 93.7. She listened to Triple J. She played the drums.
    â€˜Pretty cool for a girl,’ Ryan admitted grudgingly when I told him. ‘But she’s still ugly.’
    She started to want to be called Miri.
    When my parents went on our annual family trip to Rottnest for the March long weekend in year ten, I opted out to stay home.
    â€˜But Chris!’ Mum begged, ‘you always love staying on the island! We’ll rent bikes and go snorkelling and see the quokkas.’
    â€˜I know Mum,’ I grumbled. ‘I’ve done it all before. I’m fifteen, for Gods sake. I’m old enough to take care of myself for one weekend! Just take Jamie.’
    And so my parents left, reluctantly, with my little brother.
    Secretly, Ryan and I had a very good reason for missing the trip. Our ticket to go from semi popular to mega popular, he winked, posting my address and the words ‘house party’ online. He began to type Saturday but I protested immediately.
    â€˜No way! Friday is better. More time to clean up.’
    â€˜And that is why you’re still single,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘You sound like my mum.’
    Throwing a house party didn’t make us more popular, as it turned out.
    Cops turned up and evicted everyone. My family came home early from Rottnest. I got grounded for the rest of my high school life.
    But there was still one moment that, in my mind, made it worth it. Made it worth sitting in my room, staring out my window at teenagers free to enjoy their weekends smoking joints and falling off skateboards on the street in front of me.
    Ryan reluctantly consented to give Miri an invite. But his jaw dropped when she arrived.
    â€˜She doesn’t look half so goofy now she’s lost the braces and