Page 1 of Pieces of Us

Chapter 1

Like Love

Lincoln, 4

A thunderous roar shakes the sails of the rainbow parachute, making Amity, the girl with the black pigtails, squeal in delight. Her eyes open up like Henry the Octopus’ did on The Wiggles before she erupts into a fit of giggles. We are underneath the parachute, but not for long as she grabs my hand and drags me along behind her to make a quick escape.

‘Quick, Inky, he’s coming for us!’ She squeezes my hand so tight I can’t pull away. My feet can barely keep up. I told my dad not to put me in these stupid sandals today!

Why did she call me Inky? My name is Lincoln. And why is she trying to pull my arm from my body like I’m some sort of Mr. Potato Head toy? Doesn’t she know that it is just my bestest friend, Isaiah, chasing us with big, green, dinosaur hands? The monster isn’t real.

As she beelines for the rickety cubby house with a purple elephant flag swishing on the roof, I have no choice but to tag along. Honestly. Girls! They are so dramatic. She keeps tugging on my arm to run faster, her beaded bracelets clinking with each footstep we take. We dodge the tricycles, jump over logs and skid through the open sandpit. Great, now I have annoying grains of sand stuck between my toes.

‘Hurry, or he’ll get us!’ Amity puffs as she climbs the ladder rope. Her girly voice makes my ears hurt, and her pigtails keep whipping me in the mouth, reminding me of the tail on a horse's butt. Yuck!

As she barges her way through the red wooden door, she bends over and starts breathing really funny.

After a second, she yells again. ‘Yay, we’re safe!’ she cheers, raising both hands in the air in some sort of victory before plonking herself down on a yellow pillow. ‘Sit down and play with me,’ she orders, pointing to a blue cushion. This is weird. I’ve only met her a few times. Her daddy knows my daddy. They are best friends. They just started their own business together, drawing and building houses or something. She doesn’t have a mum. Or she does, she just doesn’t live with them anymore. Apparently, my dad and her dad used to go to school together, so now they are trying to force us to become friends. I don’t want to hang out with her, though.

‘Um. No. I want to go play with Isiah.’ I start to back out of the house when she lifts her head. Her bottom lip wobbles and her nose is wrinkled and red. She looks so sad. Her eyes are green. They remind me of grass. But they also remind me of what grass looks like when it rains. Oh, bugger, she is going to cry! If she starts crying, I’ll definitely get in trouble from Miss Sally. And she’ll probably dibber dob and tell my dad, and then he won’t let me get ice cream after school. I can’t let that happen.

‘Okay. Okay. I’ll play with you. What do you want to play?’ I give up, plopping myself down across from her and sighing. Immediately, her frown turns upside down into a wide smile. She has all her teeth, like me. She wiggles on the spot, making her sparkly skirt make a scratchy sound.

‘Let’s play boyfriends and girlfriends. You can be my boyfriend!’ Um, what? Excuse me? No way! Can this day get any worse? I want to play in the dirt or jump on the trampoline. I don’t want to sit here and be anyone’s boyfriend. How do you even be…that?

Before I can plan my escape or even ask how you play this dumb game, she perks up, lunges towards me, and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

I’m pretty cheeky. I’m always getting into trouble from Daddy because I talk back and never do what he asks, but for the first time in forever, I have no words.

She. Just. Gave. Me. Her. Cooties!

I realise that I’m more than a little scared of her—especially after she’s just kissed me—so I have no choice but to play along. Her name is definitely Amity. I asked, just in case I didn’t remember. I can’t very well have a girlfriend and not even know her name!

It’s easy being her boyfriend—I just have to follow her around and do whatever she wants, which includes sitting next to her at lunch, letting her steal my cheese sandwich, colour in a unicorn picture, and be a back row bandit during storytime (where she holds my hand the whole time).

After a while, I’m used to her smaller hand in mine. She even has shiny pink on her fingers, which looks like pink Texta and glitter. All the teachers think we are so cute and keep taking pictures of us. I’m a little cheesed off about them playing along. Aren’t they supposed to do the opposite and, I don’t know, stop this?

By the time Daddy picks me up, I’m ready to cry. I missed out on playing with all of my friends, and Isiah kept making fun of me, saying I would turn into a girl. I snatch my Spiderman bag from my locker and bolt to where Daddy is waiting by the door.

‘See you tomorrow, boyfriend,’ Amity sings sweetly, waving her hands like she is drowning in water. I peer up at Daddy, hoping he’ll save me, but he just ruffles my hair, winks, and grins down at me, as if that is the best thing he’s heard all day.

Great. Now I’m stuck with her.

Chapter 2

Bleed it Out

Amity, 12

I tug on my white mini skirt uncomfortably as I scan the pool area in search of my best friend, Lily, or Lincoln. Practically the entire year seven class surrounds Luke Pearson’s backyard to celebrate his thirteenth birthday.

There is a long table to the side of the grassy area, where Luke’s mum has placed sausage rolls, meat pies, chips and cans of soft drink. After turning on the stereo and popping in the latest So Fresh CD—which causes every guy to cheer and girl to squeal—Luke’s parents give him a nod before disappearing back inside.

This is the first teenage party I’ve ever been to, and I feel completely out of my comfort zone. What happened to the Skate Plus parties or going to the movies with parental supervision? I’ve never been to a party where the adults just leave the kids to their own devices.

This is also the first time I’ve been to a boy/girl party. Sure, when it’s Linc’s or my birthday, we go out with our families, but I’ve never had a party where I’ve invited the opposite sex. I just want to fit in with the other girls, which is why I chose to wear a skirt shorter than I feel comfortable in. At the time, I felt confident—beautiful, even. But seeing all the thin girls in my class makes me feel self-conscious of my thicker thighs and slightly pudgy belly being on display. I feel more like a hippopotamus than a Barbie. Plus, I’m pretty sure I’m bloated. I’ve had these nauseating stabbing stomach cramps all day, thanks to the nerves over attending this party.

I’m also pretty sure I was only invited because of Lincoln. I smile at the thought of my brunette, toffee-eyed protector. Our dads are best friends. Have been since they were in high school, so it is only natural that we would spend a lot of time together—especially because they own an architect and building firm together. Our mums were friends in school, too. Even though Mum and Dad are divorced, they are still the best of friends. Linc’s mum passed away shortly after she had his little sister, who’s now five.

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