Page 30 of What Did I Miss?

Makayla hurdles over a student tying their laces in the hall, then speeds around the corner, ignoring the wet floor sign.

She skids along the linoleum until the weight of her backpack pulls her to the ground and soapy liquid dampens her jeans.

So much for her grand plans to get up early and greet the camp attendees when they arrived at school.

The snooze button got the better of her – seven times.

‘Out of my way!’ Makayla flies out of the building and arrives at the main car park, where everyone’s waiting on the mini-bus.

‘It’s nice of you to join us,’ Jeffrey says from the steps where he stands, ready to farewell the group, putting on a show for the parents as always. ‘Enjoy your break.’

Break? Has he ever attended a school camp? The itinerary is jam-packed and teachers need to be vigilant at all times. Mostly at night, when the students channel Goldilocks and start bed hopping.

‘Morning.’ Cece pops her head out the front window, where she sits behind the wheel wearing a bus driver’s cap. ‘It’s a beeeauuutiful day!’ she adds, reminding Makayla of the coffee she missed and how she needs at least two to deal with her friend’s Cece-ness before 9 am.

Makayla boards the vehicle, prepared to boss whoever scored the only single seat out of it. The kids call it the ‘loner chair’ and that suits her just fine. She plans to spend the three-hour drive catching up on podcasts that dissect world-famous cults. Bliss.

‘What are you doing here?’ Makayla asks Agnes, who’s occupying the spot.

Agnes lowers her tortoiseshell-framed sunglasses.

‘Poor Imogen came down with the flu. They would have had to cancel the trip if I didn’t step up,’ she says, loud enough to ensure everyone knows she saved the day.

If Agnes is waiting for a thank you, she’s not getting one from Makayla. She never volunteers for camps, which means she’s probably here for Mug Gate payback. That woman lets nothing go.

Makayla slides into the seat behind Agnes, next to Beau, grateful he’s also a quiet morning person. For the past two weeks they’ve fallen into a soothing rhythm of having a coffee together before the first period without uttering a single word.

Cece starts the engine, torturing the group with her playlist, which pays tribute to Taylor Swift’s country music days. After a twenty-point turn in the car park, they’re finally on their way to Wilson Gully for a two-night outdoor adventure.

The cookie-cutter houses of Goldbrooke become a distant memory as the bus takes to the back roads, where dilapidated farm homes and tumbleweeds play a starring role. Makayla leans across Beau to close the window so she doesn’t have to eat dust sandwiches the whole way.

After a second of stillness, Makayla jolts like the mother from Home Alone ; her headphones are on her kitchen bench. She sifts through her bag to make sure, hoping she’s wrong. She’s not. The polyester seat cover scratches her neck as she sinks into it, sighing.

‘We can share,’ Beau says, slipping his headphones off to offer her the first turn.

‘No. That’s okay. I need to learn my lesson.’

‘Do you do that a lot?’ he asks.

‘Forget to pack things? Sometimes.’

‘I meant, do you often punish yourself for mistakes?’

‘Whoa, it’s too early for that kind of talk. Are you listening to a self-help podcast?’

‘Powderfinger.’ Beau chuckles. ‘It’s something I’ve noticed about you.’

Makayla wriggles uncomfortably, acutely aware their elbows are touching. Since when does he study her?

‘Speaking of punishment, my in-laws … sorry, ex -in-laws’ anniversary party is the weekend after next,’ Makayla whispers, so Agnes can’t eavesdrop.

Her silk eye mask isn’t fooling anybody.

‘If you’re not doing anything, would you like to go?

As friends? There’s an open bar, three courses …

’ The inside of her mouth dries up like a desert.

‘I’m assuming your ex-husband will be there. Won’t that be weird?’

‘That’s not the weirdest part. My father-in-law passed away eight years ago and Trish performs their wedding dance solo.’

‘That’s romantic.’

‘I guess you could say that.’ Tragic is a better way to describe it. It’s time for Trish to move on and stop leaving second-chance romance novels in Makayla’s mailbox. ‘Does that mean you’ll come?’

‘Count me in. Anything for my friend.’ Friend sounds foreign on his tongue. ‘Speaking of, I need to tell you something …’ The way his words trail off sends Makayla into a worst-case scenario spiral. ‘Paul has officially resigned, and Jeffrey encouraged me to apply for the permanent position.’

‘That’s great. Why did you lead into it like your dog died?’

‘Because …’

Will he not apply? Is it because of her? Is he moving? Dying? Makayla runs through a gazillion scenarios by the time he opens his mouth to explain.

‘I got a call yesterday from the principal at Cordington and there’s a maternity leave position that starts next term.’

The revelation rings in her ears as she tries to make sense of it.

As if she didn’t hate that snooty private school enough, now they want to steal one of the few dedicated teachers at Goldbrooke?

That’s not why she’s really upset, she has to admit.

There’s another unsettling thought trying to push itself to the front of the line – what if he leaves and they drift apart?

No one ever really means it when they write ‘keep in touch’ on a farewell card.

‘I’ve listed the positives about each. Want to hear it?’ He presents a neatly written list.

‘Sure.’

‘I’ll start with Cordington. The pay is better – a lot better. Longer holidays. Well resourced. Professional development opportunities.’

With those kinds of benefits, Makayla’s tempted to jump ship too.

‘As for Goldbrooke, I feel like I’ve finally found my groove here. I’d miss Rongo’s bear hugs …’

Makayla smiles, picturing Rongo charging at Beau every morning to tackle him to the ground. It’d devastate Rongo if their bromance ended.

‘… Cece’s cheerfulness, Imogen’s brownies, everyone really. Most of all, I’d miss seeing you every day.’

‘Because I’m a big ball of sunshine?’ Makayla smirks.

‘Because you crack me up,’ he says, not laughing at her stellar joke. ‘Also, we’re friends now, but one day, who knows?’

Agnes forgets to fake snore because she’s too busy smiling.

Makayla doesn’t want her relaying this conversation back to The Whiny Bunch when the facts are murky.

Yes, she has to stay single until her birthday, but beyond that, she’s still in no rush to be in a relationship after fleeing one that made her insides rot.

Beau has also made it clear numerous times he wants marriage and babies.

She won’t let him make career decisions based on a future she can’t guarantee.

It’s better to break his heart now than further down the road.

‘Please don’t factor me into the equation. That’d be a huge mistake.’

Stunned into silence, Beau slides his headphones over his ears and stares out the window at the stretch of nothingness.

The camp group spends the afternoon rock climbing.

Agnes slinks up the boulder like a gecko, with Beau not far behind.

Even Cece gives it a go. She stops halfway, but it’s still a lot further than Makayla gets – her feet remain firmly on the ground.

By wearing a harness and shouting encouragement to others, she manages to fly under the radar.

No one notices she isn’t participating, not even Agnes.

‘Are we there yet?’ Ebony asks as they hike to the next activity.

Instead of taking in the breathtaking views of the Wilson Gully ranges, the teens are ignoring tree root trip hazards to refresh their social media feeds.

The tall and thick hundred-year-old blue gums are doing a brilliant job of blocking their internet connection, as well as providing a canopy of shade.

Sweat dribbles from Makayla’s fringe as she tackles the terrain, and after the gazillionth steep hill, they finally arrive at the zip-lining course where cables run from treetop to treetop.

The decline of the slope is supposed to drag them along the circuit, providing a unique way to experience the forest without disturbing it.

Multiple students mention how ‘lit’ it is, but the idea of being suspended ten metres in the air, dangling like Tarzan, makes Makayla want to vomit.

To quell the queasiness in her stomach, all she has to do is pull off the same cover story as last year.

The camp owner’s daughter, Paisley, greets them at the base of the first platform and mumbles through the safety procedures.

Given her penchant for wearing baggy pants without a belt and her blemish-covered chin, she can’t be older than eighteen.

Her eye is drawn to Ebony, who mirrors her interest with a flirty giggle.

This isn’t good. Ebony and Kylie Houston are on the rocks again.

Also, staff quarters aren’t far from the students’ cabins and as soon as Ebony works that out, Makayla knows she won’t get a wink of sleep.

Once they secure harnesses, Paisley says, ‘We need a teacher to go first to help students at the other end. Mrs Anderson, you’re the coordinator, aren’t you?’

‘It’s Ms , but Makayla is fine,’ she says, feeling ancient. ‘I’ll stay here to supervise. Why don’t you go first, Agnes?’

That witch should have no problem flying through the course.

‘Me? Oh no. You seem to have missed out on rock climbing. You start. I insist.’

So, she did notice and instead of saying something then, she’s been holding on to that golden nugget, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

What’s Makayla going to do? There’s no way she’s climbing a rickety ladder and hurling herself off a platform.

It doesn’t matter how many times Paisley says, ‘It’s perfectly safe,’ she’s not putting her life in the hands of a kid who can’t wear pants properly.