Australian Love Stories by Cate Kennedy Page B

‘terrorism’ lectures at our school.
    My favourite song was ‘Hollaback Girl’ by Gwen Stefani.
    I never went to my year twelve ball. For one, I was still grounded. For another, Ryan and I both decided that if it was anywhere as lame as the year eleven river cruise, we could live without it. Besides, we didn’t have dates.
    Miri did.
    With her boyfriend of nine months, Samuel. Their photo made it into the newspaper. Of course it did.
    The best thing about sixteen-year-old Mirabelle De Luca was maybe her perfect orthodontic smile.
    I tried to remain positive.
    â€˜I ain’t no hollaback girl, Miri!’ I shouted at the clipping.
    But who was I kidding? There weren’t nobody hollering at me.
    L-Plates, Logbooks and 100 hrs
    I already told you that 2006 was the hottest New Years Day on record in Sydney. But I forgot to mention that my favourite song was ‘Sexy Back’ by Justin Timberlake.
    It was blasting from the Student Guild as I got that tingling feeling of excitement, thinking about what it was going to be like attending university here…
    I finally quit my nervous nail biting and followed Ryan.
    â€˜Dude! You’re not still staring a Miri are you?’ he shook his head in disbelief as we made our way out of the hall, having completed enrolment.
    The sun was setting, sending a brilliant blanket of pink and orange across the tops of the various tents of university clubs. There was one I still hadn’t had the courage to go up to yet. The brightest tent of all.
    â€˜No. I’m bringing sexy back,’ I shrugged, turning to leave.
    â€˜Oh for fuck sake, I’ll walk over and sign up with you. What are you so embarrassed about?’ he snapped.
    â€˜No!’
    He started jogging towards the bright tent.
    I sprinted after him, yanked desperately at his shirt.
    â€˜Let me do it Ryan. Please!’ I pleaded.
    He gave me an impatient shove forward. I made my way hesitantly toward the rainbow flag. Keeping my head down, frantically avoiding eye contact. Not that there’d likely be anyone I knew in this booth.
    â€˜Hi,’ smiled a guy in a Billabong t-shirt. ‘I’m Matt. Are you new?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I gulped.
    â€˜Add your name to the email list. We send out a weekly schedule of events in the Queer Department,’ grinned a girl wearing Aviator sunnies.
    â€˜Thanks,’ I flustered, so nervous my sweaty hands immediately dropped the pen.
    Someone picked it up.
    â€˜Ryan… I told you not to come with me…’
    â€˜Hi Chris. I’ve never seen you at one of these before.’
    I caught a whiff of vanilla.
    Miri was standing inside the rainbow tent. Sunglasses holding back her curls. Contacts violet today.
    â€˜Wha…what are you doing in here?’ I stammered.
    She signed my name first. Then hers. Then she smiled at the image of them, there in the dying sun: together on the page.

Mother Love
    CATHERINE COLE

    His best friend, Amy, told him he represented her mother.
    He said, ‘But I’m a man.’
    Amy replied, ‘It doesn’t matter, Jason. Its symbolic.’ She paused to look at some handbags in the window of Scally and Trombone. ‘A mother can be any gender.’
    They went into the new café on the corner of Johnston and Brunswick Streets and sat by the window. A waiter came over. Cute. He had a nice, tight little arse. Normally Jason would have said something about him to Amy but after the mother stuff he thought, fuck you, I’m keeping my erotic fantasies to myself.
    Amy stirred her coffee and raised it to her mouth. She sighed and said. ‘I’m sorry, Jason, I can’t be friends with you any more. I have to break free from all the mother figures in my life.’
    Outside a tram clattered along Brunswick Street. The shock of Amy’s announcement had caused Jason’s mouth to open. I must look like a goldfish, he thought, my mouth a perfect O. Then he decided