The Whole of My World Read Online Free PDF Page A

has always been a clown and brilliant at footy. We used to play for the Glenvalley Raiders together, and he was the only other kid who had any hope of catching me before I stopped playing. Josh never made me feel like I was less than anyone else, like I was less than a boy. He used to pick me first or, at worst, second for any team he captained in primary school, and would never let the other boys tease me, even when I beat them. Josh is the main reason I was able to stick with the Raiders for as long as I did, and his was the loudest voice protesting when I had to stop. Almost as loud as mine.
    Josh is my best friend, if a teenage boy can ever be best friends with a teenage girl without hormones getting in the way. So far we’ve made it through okay, although recently the fact that he’s a boy seems to be harder to ignore than it used to be. He’s always been good-looking, like his mum, with tanned skin and curly brown hair that flops over his green eyes. A lot of girls like him. It never used to bother me. Now, sometimes, it’s all I can see. He makes me blush now, too, which is ridiculous .
    I pump my legs harder, faster, gaining pace. There’s no way I can let him beat me. I thrust my chest forward, lunging in an effort to pip him at the line. It’s not like there’s anyone around to clock us or referee the inevitable argument, but I need to feel like the gap between us isn’t as big as it looks from behind. I lunge sharply – too sharply – losing my balance. My arms flail, reaching for anything that will stop my fall, finding Josh, who, I realise, isn’t as far ahead as he was. As we both trip and nearly fall – him yelling, me laughing – I can’t help but grin at the ground I made up in the last twenty metres. We collapse on the grassy track, laughingly trying to catch our breath.
    Incredibly, I don’t hurt myself when I land, and apart from possibly straining muscles from laughing so hard, Josh seems fine too. The track’s deserted, being off-season. No one’s mown it in weeks. The grass is already looking tired and worn, the strange mix of wet warmth and cold dry that makes up a Melbourne autumn doing its best to ruin the only official running track in Glenvalley. We lie there, our rasping breath the only sound between us apart from a handful of birds and the occasional roar of a truck passing along Summervale Road.
    I roll over, grinning.
    â€˜I won!’ Josh gloats.
    I laugh. ‘Another five metres and I would’ve had you.’
    â€˜Rubbish,’ he says, but not with his usual confidence.
    â€˜You know I did. You just can’t admit it.’ He’s quick for short distances, like I am. But I have stamina. That extra distance used to be enough to take him every time.
    Josh shakes his head but doesn’t argue, which is as good as admitting defeat. Josh never gives up when he’s right. Or when he thinks he’s right.
    The grass is soft against my back, the air cool on my face. I haven’t been running with Josh as much lately, not like we used to, and I can feel the tightening of my calf muscles at the very idea of how much they’ll kill tomorrow. But I feel good, better than I’ve felt all week.
    â€˜How’s St Mary’s?’ he asks, ruining the moment in a single shot.
    â€˜Fine.’
    Josh props himself up on one elbow.
    â€˜What?’ I say crossly. I don’t want to talk about it.
    â€˜Fine?’ The arch of his eyebrow adds an extra sting.
    â€˜Okay. It’s crap. They suck. I hate it. Is that better?’
    Josh sighs. ‘Have you made any friends?’
    I sit up, ready to snap. ‘What sort of question is that? You’re not my dad.’ But the energy to be angry seems to slip away when I see the genuine interest in his face. And then I want to tell him about Tara and the invitation to go to Fernlee Park next Thursday. I want to tell him about The Great Gatsby