My gut is a bag full of fists. I strap on a smile and remind myself why I’m here: to help heal Lottie. If she were my child, I would do anything to save her. Just like Anna.

I weave through the crowd that has flocked to the fundraiser. There must be a quarter of the Gibbs Creek population attending the event—by far the most bodies the primary school has ever had on its grounds. Like a royal bloody wedding, it is.

I nod thanks, wave hello and shake hands as if I’m a local politician, all the way to the child-sized bathrooms. The walls of the girls’ toilet block are painted an offensive lollipop pink. The boys’ block is a haphazard splattering of cobalt blue. Good old Gibbs Creek Primary School still rep-resenting gender like it’s 1950. Each toilet door has an inspirational quote penned across it. The messages give me some hope for the next generation.
Throw kindness around like confetti!
Be the change you want to see in the world!

Anna and Lottie are taking a moment before they brave the people.

‘Time to greet the fans!’ I clap in anticipation.

‘Morning, Ren.’ Anna’s half-smile masks what must be all sorts of pain tangled inside her. She cups a shallow pool of water in her palms then, like a slap, splashes it across her face. She dabs concealer under her eyes and reapplies blush to her cheeks.

‘Charlotte? You ready? Ren’s here!’ Anna calls over the top of the cubicle.

‘Hey, Lottie?’ I tap my knuckle on her door. The quote painted across it couldn’t be more appropriate: She believed she could so she did. ‘C’mon, chickadee, we’ll get you over to see your friends faster than you can say fairy floss!’
Lottie unlocks the door in slow motion. Her floral sun-dress hangs loose. Spindly arms poke out from the cardigan draped around her shoulders. She shivers despite the temperate autumn day. ‘Do I have to go?’

Continue reading the extract here…

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