The Boyfriend Rivalry by Milana Spencer

1

Curtis: The End Of The World

I cross my arms over my chest, and my Easton Grammar blazer tightens around my shoulders and elbows. I should buy a new one because I've worn this blazer since Year 10 when my arms were an inch shorter and my shoulders were narrower. But I'm in my final year of high school, so buying a new blazer now would be an unnecessary expense.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter. "It's freezing in here."

Beside me, my girlfriend, Kennedy Harding, gives me a sympathetic smile. She's wearing a light layer of pink lip-tint and her signature winged eyeliner, and her chestnut brown hair frames her face, cut bluntly at her jaw.

A voice drifts from above. "Literally, Jesus Christ."

I'm not a religious person, but I send a prayer to whoever's up there. Not today. Please.

Liam Ford takes the seat on the pew next to Kennedy, and to my chagrin, Kennedy laughs at Liam's comment. I mentioned Jesus Christ and we're sitting in a church for our school's Easter service. Hardy-har-har. Liam's a comedic genius.

Liam and Kennedy talk about the service, looking around at the students that fill the pews. While Easton Grammar isn't a religious school, there are two church services every year. The Easter service, on the last day of term one, and the Christmas service, on the last day of term four.

I watch Liam and Kennedy talk. Kennedy's 160 centimetres and Liam is almost 185, which means I have a clear view of his stupid face. His eyes drift up and catch me looking at him, and though he's smiling at Kennedy, his eyes harden at the sight of me.

I look away and wrap my arms tighter around myself. As Year 12s, we're seated at the very back of the church, nearby the huge wooden doors that invite gusts of wheezing winds. Thankfully, by this time of year, the sweltering Australian summer has cooled down, but this autumn is uncomfortably frosty. Hopefully, when the service starts and the doors are closed, it will warm up, but this old church doesn't look as if it has the best insulation.

I wait, not for the first time today, for school to finish.

At the front of the church, the staff members and student speakers prepare to begin the service. I see the school captains, Jasper Harvey and Trinity Nguyen, compare their speeches and whisper to each other. I'm pretty good friends with Jasper, or at least, I used to be until we had that one sleepover last November. Guests are sitting in the first couple of pews — old alumni of the school who still like to attend the services, as well as a representative from a charity where the gold coin donations will go.

"… a significant number of students don't attend these days. This one and the last day of term four," Kennedy says to Liam.

Liam stretches out his long legs in front of him, sliding them under the pew in front of us. I swear he's always stretching his legs to get everybody to notice how tall he is. He's a full five centimetres taller than me, which I hate.

"That's probably because it's only a half-day of school," Liam says. "It's not like we do actual work in class, anyway."

Kennedy continues, talking about how while some students of different faiths attend the last day of school, a lot skip it probably because they don't want to go to a church service. Most students are bored out of their minds by the church services, anyway. Kennedy says she should write a letter to the school.

Liam asks her about the recent letter she wrote to the local MP. I don't bother attempting to join into the conversation, because I wouldn't know what to say or how to contribute, and if I tried, Liam would laugh nastily at me.

Finally, the service begins and the students go silent. Kennedy clamps her mouth closed, annoyed at her conversation being interrupted, but rests her head against my shoulder. Her hair, as always, smells of raspberry shampoo.

I smile down at her, and then, unable to help myself, check Liam's reaction. He's watching us, jaw tight, brown eyes narrowed.

I smile mildly back. I hope that drives him crazy.

We listen to speeches and readings. The school orchestra plays music as everyone sings hymns, the lyrics projected onto the screens that hang from the wooden ceiling. Afterwards, straw baskets are passed through the rows as every student puts in a gold coin donation, and as always, several students drop their coins which clatter loudly on the floor. Teachers shoot them disapproving looks.

Throughout the whole service, I keep one eye on the front of the church and one eye on Liam. He keeps his head forward but blinks slowly with boredom. Sometimes he'll subconsciously run a hand through his unruly black hair. Liam looks the way you'd expect someone who listens to alternative music and falls asleep in class to look. Messy hair that's longer than the school rules allow, but he gets away with it somehow. Pale skin, because he spends all his time indoors. High cheekbones — and yeah, they're attractive on male runway models, but on a random person in your maths class, they look ghoulish.

Liam nudges Kennedy with his knee. Something funny — or rather, not funny, because this is his sense of humour we're talking about — must have happened in the service that I didn't notice because I was thinking about Liam. Kennedy smothers a laugh and I clench my jaw.

My issue with Liam Ford isn't that he's Kennedy's friend, even though he's her oldest and closest. They were born days apart, and their mothers were in the same mother's club, and ever since then, their lives have been intertwined. They've been to the same kindergartens and schools all their lives. As long as I can remember, since the first day of Year 7 at Easton Grammar, they've been joined at the hip, but I never really thought about it until I met Kennedy at the Green Easton talk.

My parents have always encouraged me to get involved in local political events. One event I attended last year was the Green Easton talk, where experts discussed environmental sustainability within the city. I have a little interest in environmentalism, but honestly, I wouldn't have gone if my parents didn't tell me to go. I knew I'd get bored.

Then I saw Kennedy there, sitting in the middle row. When she saw me staring, she waved, so I walked over and sat down next to her. While we waited for the talk to begin, we got to talking.

Even though I didn't know Kennedy well — she was in my year level, but we'd only had a few classes together over the years — I knew she was pretty. Short brown hair and big eyes, and of course, that body. And after talking to her, I learned she was funny and confident and I nodded at what she said like an eager puppy.

After the talk finished, I asked if she wanted to get something to eat. We went to a cafe and got lunch. I outright asked her if she had a boyfriend. Usually, I wouldn't say such blatant things, but Kennedy was being so friendly, so I felt strangely confident.

She said no, why?

I said I wasn't sure whether she had a thing with Liam Ford, and she laughed wearily, said she had to answer that question a lot. They were just friends, she said.

Now, the service finishes and the church's wooden floorboards croak as students stand up and leave the church in messy lines. I stand up and stretch my limbs above my head, then check the time. Twenty minutes until the end of the school day. Twenty minutes until the Easter holidays begin.

Usually, my school holidays would consist of volunteering at the shire, doing my homework, and occasionally travelling to Melbourne with my friends. But a week ago, Kennedy told me she was going to her family's beach house at Lonsdale Bay, a beach town in the south of Victoria. She was going with her two cousins and asked if I wanted to go.

Of course, I wanted to. Even though the water would be freezing at this time of year, it was still the beach, and more importantly, it would be two weeks of spending time with Kennedy. Away from our parents.

It surprised me that Kennedy offered for me to go in the first place because her parents are super protective and don't like the idea of her spending too much unsupervised time with me. I don't know why, because her parents and I seem to get along well. Despite that, they never let her sleep at mine, and if I stay at her's, I have to sleep in a spare bedroom.

Which is probably why Kennedy and I haven't had sex yet.

Several school buses are parked on the road in front of the church, and the three of us walk to the closest bus, joining the crowd of students waiting by the door. I slide a hand around Kennedy and hope that Liam will peel away to join his friends.

He doesn't.

"I'm so excited for tomorrow," I say.

Kennedy smiles. "Me too. Erin and Bonnie are arriving tonight, and remember, we'll come pick you up at ten."

"I haven't seen Erin and Bonnie in ages," Liam muses. He's tall enough to invade our conversation, even if he's standing behind us. "I can't wait to see them again."

"Liam and his parents are having dinner with us tonight," Kennedy explains.

Luckily, we enter the bus at that moment, so I don't have to respond. I follow Kennedy to the back of the bus, aware of Liam's presence behind me like a fire at my back. As soon as I sit down next to Kennedy, Liam slides into the seat behind us.

"Which cousin is older?" I ask.

"Erin," Kennedy says, moving so her back is to the window doing it so Liam can feel included in the conversation. I don't do the same. "She's twenty-one and in uni, studying science. Bonnie's our age, also in Year 12."

"Bonnie's my favourite," Liam says.

"You're only saying that because she once said that you were cute. Which was five years ago," says Kennedy.

"She didn't say I was cute, she said I was hot. Important difference."

I scoff and hastily turn it into a cough, though from the look on her and Liam's face, I wasn't very convincing. Kennedy's asked me an embarrassing number of times to be nicer to Liam, and I don't want to upset her so I try to keep my insults to myself. But it's not as if I hate Liam for no reason. I've explained to Kennedy over and over my problem with him, and she says the same thing every time. Anyway, if she should ask anyone to be nice, it should be Liam. He started this. Whatever this is. The hostility between us.

"I'm so happy your parents agreed," I say, to change the topic.

Kennedy glances at her lap and fiddles with her school dress. "Well, I told them I already offered and they hate to back out of promises."

That sounds like Kennedy — she's always been an ask now and beg for forgiveness later kind of person.

The bus, finally full of students, turns on and pulls onto the road. We pass trees with golden and ruby leaves.

"I thought they'd put up more resistance, though," I say.

"Oh, they did," Liam says.

"I also told them you have already changed your plans. And that we'd sleep in separate bedrooms there," Kennedy says.

I'm not sure whether the latter is an excuse or the truth. If we sleep in separate rooms, I suppose I could always sneak into hers.

"Also, I said that Erin would keep an eye on us," Kennedy adds.

"Will she actually?"

"Don't worry, she's cool."

Liam laughs. "The Erin I remember would snitch on us for every little thing."

Kennedy glares at Liam. I ignore him and squeeze Kennedy's hand. "I'm excited."

She hesitates before smiling. I'm about to ask what's wrong when Liam speaks.

"So am I. Excited as hell. I think the last time I went was years ago."

I freeze, keeping my eyes on Kennedy. Her smile fades and her eyes flick away before returning to me.

Slowly, I turn to Liam. "What are you talking about?" I ask in a low voice.

Liam looks at me like I'm stupid. "Lonsdale Bay, obviously."

I stare at him, my stomach sinking. "What?"

"I'm going too," Liam explains.