“It’s not about that,” he says. “It’s about those photos.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Griggs warns.

Santangelo ignores him. “I’m going to get them for you,” he tells me.

“How?”

“Easy. I’m going to break into the police station.”

I talk about going back to the school every day but I always end up staying. On Saturday night they take me to a twenty-first party. I have no idea who it’s for but it’s at the scout hall and I’m almost convinced that the whole town has been invited. Jonah Griggs is sitting at a table with Santangelo, Santangelo’s girlfriend, and some of her friends. When he sees me, there’s a look of surprise and something else.

I’m self-conscious about the skirt I bought with Raffy and the T-shirt that barely covers my midriff, and the fact that I let Raffy’s mum brainwash me into believing that no woman should leave her house without wearing lipstick but I like the way it makes me feel.

Senior Cadets are allowed out on a Saturday night during the holidays and the place is packed with them. The music is loud but the people’s voices are louder and every one of them looks happy. I haven’t seen so many happy people all in one room, except on television, but these people don’t look like they’re acting.

It surprises me to see Ben in a huddle with the Mullet Brothers and Anson Choi and some of the Townies. I didn’t know he was back from holidays. He walks towards me doing this salsa cha-cha thing and it makes me laugh and I dance back towards him. He drags me over and introduces me to people he’s just met. “They think you’re a babe,” he whispers in my ear, and because nobody has ever called me a babe before, I find myself charmed. Then Griggs and Santangelo are beside me and somehow Griggs has managed to shoulder his way between Ben and me. Although I don’t look at him, I feel him at my shoulder for most of the night. The Townies poke fun at Griggs and Choi because they’re in uniform but the banter is good-natured and I’m surprised how clever Griggs is in his response to it.

We’re in a world full of people Raffy knows. People who bring her to life and it seems as if her feet hardly touch the ground because every second person picks her up and twirls her around. While she’s speaking to her uncle, friends from her primary school introduce themselves to me.

“I married her in grade six,” one named Joe Salvatore tells me, grinning.

“What did a wedding consist of in grade six?” I ask.

“An exchange of rings made of grass and a reception of candy and sherbet,” he explains. “Chaz refused to attend because she was his best friend since they were born and he thought she was his.”

“As if,” Santangelo says, scowling. Griggs doesn’t look too impressed, either, and Joe Salvatore seems to enjoy their irritation. When Raffy finally reaches us, he lifts her off the ground and smothers her with noisy kisses and she’s giggling in a way I’ve never heard before.

I talk local politics with Santangelo’s mum and teacher shortages with Raffy’s dad. I do the twist with Santangelo and politely decline an invitation to go for a drive with one of his friends. I do the Time Warp with Jessa and the Zorba with Raffy and, when I need to stop for air, Jonah Griggs is there and he takes my hand and leads me through the crowd until we’re outside.

I take deep breaths, looking at the town stretched in front of me. When I turn around, he cups my face in his hands and he kisses me so deeply that I don’t know who is breathing for who, but his mouth and tongue taste like warm honey. I don’t know how long it lasts, but when I let go of him, I miss it instantly.

We end up with the Townies and Cadets at McDonald’s on the highway at two in the morning. I look around at everyone and I can’t help thinking how normal we look and I don’t think I’ve ever felt normal. I watch Raffy as she removes the pickles from her hamburger and hands them over to Santangelo without them exchanging a word and I realise again there is more to that relationship than spelling bees and being enemies. These people have history and I crave history. I crave someone knowing me so well that they can tell what I’m thinking. Jonah Griggs takes my hand under the table and links my fingers with his and I know that I would sacrifice almost anything just to keep this state of mind, for the rest of the week at least.

Chapter 17

On one of those days during the holidays when they were completely bored, Webb came up with a plan. The five of them sat by the river, at the very spot where Webb dreamed of building a house.

“We build a tunnel,” Webb said. “It runs from my House to Tate and Narnie’s and then we take a detour and it goes from their House, underneath the driveway and then to the clearing.”

“Purpose?” Jude asked, practising his overarm with rocks against the tree.

“To get around after hours. It’ll be tops.”

“Tops, will it be?”

“The Great Escape. They built a tunnel,” Fitz said, enthused.

“They needed to, morons. It was a matter of life and death,” Jude said dryly.

“We’re bored to death, Jude, so isn’t that a matter of life and death?” Tate asked.

Webb was grinning. Tate, too. They always grinned in unison. Like they were thinking with the same mind, sharing the same heart. Ever since any of them could remember, Webb and Tate had been like that. Jude knew it was why he was drawn to them. They were like beacons for Narnie, who couldn’t seem to operate without them and Fitz and Jude loved the three, unashamedly.

“They think I saved them but they saved me,” Fitz once told him. “I didn’t exist before I belonged to the Fucked-Up Four.”

“Five,” Jude had corrected.

He could hear Webb, Tate, and Fitz discussing the tunnel as if it already existed.

“Narnie, explain to the delusional trio why the POWs needed that tunnel more than we do,” he said.

“Nazis,” she muttered, sitting against the tree. Bad day for Narnie.

“Weren’t your grandparents Nazis?” Fitz asked, lining up at least five imaginary enemies and, with his finger and popping sounds, eliminating them one by one.

“They were Germans,” Narnie said. “Big difference.”

“Although Oma Rose vas a Nazi vhen it came to eating za sauerkraut,” Webb said in a bad German accent, and for the first time in a long time, Narnie laughed.

“I’m all for the tunnel. It could save our life one day,” Tate said. “We could be chased by evil and have to hide down there.”

“Evil out in Jellicoe? I wish,” Fitz said.

“Think of how tunnels saved people from Hitler,” Tate said.

“Yeah, but last I heard Hitler was dead. The bunker, a gun, Eva. Ring a bell?” Jude said.

“Cyanide,” Narnie corrected.

“We’ll pretend we’re the East Germans trying to escape to West Germany. No Nazis.”

“Just Communists.”

“All we need is to be able to get from one House to the other and then from that House to the clearing,” Webb said, slightly frustrated by the fact that nobody but Tate was taking him seriously.

Jude looked from Tate to Webb, shaking his head.

“You know what?” Webb asked. “I’m getting another fantastic idea.” The seven P.M. call bell rang in the distance but Webb was in another world.

“Skirmish,” he said, impressed with himself. “Let’s have a war.”

There was a new plan every day, bigger and better than the day before. Each afternoon at four o’clock they would meet to discuss it.

On Jude’s last day they met at midnight and camped under the oak by the river. Fitz handed them a bottle and Webb took a swig, spitting it out instantly.