“Just ask how I'm feeling, I want to say. Just ask and I may tell you.But no one does.”

“I just stare at him. I want to ask him a thousand questions, but I can tell he doesn't want to be asked. "We make weird friends," I say instead."I've never been into the f-word with people.""I'm privileged, then? Why me?"He thinks for a moment and shrugs again."You're the realest person I've ever known.""Is that good or bad?""It's fucking awful. There's not much room for bullshit, and you know how I thrive on it."We laugh for a moment and begin walking again.”

“You shy, Francesca?” Javier asks me later on.I shake my head. “Not really.” I’m just sad, I want to say. And I’m lonely.”

“I stand up, sure of one thing and one thing only. That my father will come and get me. He won't give me a lecture, he won't try to teach me a lesson. He won't ask a thousand questions or ask me to apologize. He'll just come and get me. "Just tell me where you are.”

“So, like I asked, what’s with the nightie?”“It smells like what I always think mothers smell like,” I tell him honestly, knowing I don’t have to explain. He nods. “My mum has one just the same and you have no idea how disturbing it is that it’s turning me on.”

“We're an Ag college," I explain to them. "Not as good as the one in Yanco but we have livestock.""Cows?" Anson Choi asks, covering his nose."Pigs, too. And horses. Great for growing tomatoes.The Cadets are wanna-be soldiers. City people. They may know how to street fight but they don't know how to wade through manure."I'm going to throw up," one of the guys says."Don't feel too bad," I explain. "Some of our lot did while they were laying out this stuff. Actually, right there where you're standing.”

“I think if I'm ever asked to recall what Year 12 was all about, I'll remember it as one big cappuccino experience.”