‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘The reason you kept fighting with each other is because he thinks you’re an enormous snob and that you consider him to be socially inferior to you. And you do.’

  ‘So you’re saying that Hiro is Mr Darcy?’

  Dev snorted. ‘No, you’re Mr Darcy.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

  ‘Lizzie thinks that Darcy is an enormous snob, right? That’s her prejudice. And she’s right. Darcy does think he’s superior to her and her people. That’s his pride. They’re both right about each other.’

  ‘So you’re saying I’m an enormous snob?’

  ‘I’m saying there’s a reason why Hiro felt like you were trying to make him into something he wasn’t.’

  I swallowed. Dev was right. I was Mr Darcy. I thought I knew what was best for Hiro. I thought he’d be better off if he was more like me – if he tried harder at school and went to uni.

  ‘But …’ I tried to sort my brain into some kind of order. ‘But I was trying to make him better. Getting better marks and engaging with schoolwork is better. That’s not me being a snob.’

  ‘Sure it is,’ said Paige. ‘They’re your values. Not his.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ Paige continued. ‘They’re my values too. In fact, they’re the values of a lot of people. But they’re still values, and if Hiro has different values, then sure, you’re allowed to talk about it, and debate it. But you can’t expect him to change just so he can be more like you.’

  When did my friends get so wise?

  I told them about Hiro being the mayor’s son, and about the whole Green Valentine debacle. They nodded knowingly.

  ‘Dad’s cleaning business has lost the contract for all the council buildings,’ said Paige. ‘Apparently some big corporate something-or-other is taking over. And Mum has to reapply for her job at the leisure centre.’

  ‘My parents are devastated,’ said Dev. They ran the local teen drop-in centre, which offered counselling services as well as an all-ages live music venue. ‘The council have cut all their funding, and the centre can’t operate without it. We’ll probably have to move.’

  ‘Oh, and did you hear? Patchwork Rhubarb is closing down. Apparently that block of the shopping strip is where some big new mall carpark is going.’

  I stared at them both, and something started to dawn on me. Something that had been right in front of me all along, but I’d been too self-absorbed to see it.

  Dev and Paige stayed for another half hour or so, and made me promise I’d hang out with them in the next couple of days. I walked them to the front door and gave them each a long, heartfelt hug.

  ‘See you soon,’ said Dev.

  ‘You’ve got a whole season of Big Hair Academy to catch up on,’ said Paige. ‘Um, but maybe shower before you come over to watch it.’

  I shut the door behind them, feeling better than I had in days. Even though everything else had fallen in a heap, at least I still had my friends. That was something.

  I wondered where Mum was. In her room, probably. Was she mad at me? I knew I should find her and apologise. But I felt exhausted. One step at a time. I was about to head back up to my room, when the doorbell rang. I went and opened the door, assuming Dev and Paige had forgotten something. A tiny spark inside me hoped it would be Hiro.

  It was the Whippet.

  I stared at her, shocked. I hadn’t spoken to her since I’d found out about the affair. And even before then it wasn’t like we’d ever had a proper conversation. She looked tired too, like Dad. I’d assumed that she would have been delighted that Mum and Dad had split up. She’d gotten what she wanted; she should have been glowing and happy.

  I heard a noise behind me, and turned to see Mum, standing in the hallway. She didn’t look at me, and I knew she was still hurt by what I’d said. Mum’s eyes locked onto the Whippet, and for a moment I thought she was going to attack her, but then her gaze softened and she came to stand beside me.

  ‘Jessica,’ she said. ‘This is a surprise. Come in.’

  The Whippet crept into the living room, her shoulders hunched. She looked like she’d entered a military zone and was certain of execution. Her enormous eyes were even bulgier than usual, and her hands were shaking.

  ‘What can we do for you?’ asked Mum, her voice all calm politeness.

  ‘I-I wanted to apologise for Greg’s behaviour,’ said the Whippet, not looking up. ‘I didn’t know that he came here on Christmas night.’

  Mum’s expression didn’t crack.

  ‘I—’ The Whippet took a shaky breath. She looked like she might faint. ‘I know that what I did – with him – was wrong, and terrible. I’ll never really forgive myself for it. I have no excuses, and neither does he. You are absolutely right to kick him out, and I’m not just saying that because you kicking him out means I get to be with him.’

  Mum blinked, looking slightly bewildered. She still hadn’t looked at me.

  ‘And Greg needs to respect your choice,’ said the Whippet, her voice barely more than a whisper. ‘I know he’s struggling right now – especially with everything to do with the business. But coming over here on Christmas night—’ She glanced at me and lowered her voice even more. ‘Drunk. That was terrible.’

  And for the first time, I saw the whole thing from the Whippet’s point of view. She’d fallen in love with her boss – a married man. She’d given in to temptation, and had destroyed a marriage. Now she had the man, but he wasn’t strong and charming anymore. He was a shuddering wreck who, instead of embracing his new life and partner, was begging to be let back into his old marriage. That had to be hard for her.

  I could see Mum was thinking the same thing. ‘It’s okay, Jessica,’ she said. ‘I understand. It’s not your fault – not this part, anyway. Greg’s grieving because he’s learnt he can’t have his cake and be married at the same time. But he’s a grown man, and he doesn’t need you to apologise for him.’

  The Whippet ducked her head in acknowledgement.

  ‘But I appreciate you coming,’ said Mum. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome – thank you – I’m sorry,’ said the Whippet, all in a confused rush.

  She turned to me as she headed back to the door. ‘Greg told me that you’re behind all the gardening. I think you’re brave. It’s all so beautiful. My grandmother used to grow roses and I loved them so much.’

  I felt a little taken aback. ‘Um,’ I said. ‘Thank you. What did you mean when you said Dad was struggling with the business?’

  ‘It’s the new council scheme,’ said the Whippet, a flash of anger suddenly animating her pale face. ‘There’s a new rates system which makes it almost impossible for independent businesses to operate. Greg’s under a lot of pressure to sell to a dentistry franchise that gets a big rates discount from the council.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Thanks for letting us know.’

  The Whippet almost curtseyed, then slunk out. Mum shut the door after her, and started back up the hallway.

  ‘Mum?’ I said.

  She stopped.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said any of those things to you earlier. I know you’re hurting too.’

  Mum turned around and smiled. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘Sometimes it’s easy to forget that you’re a teenager.’

  I heard the Whippet’s car pull out of our driveway.

  ‘Poor thing,’ said Mum, heading into the kitchen and switching on the kettle. ‘Greg is going to walk all over her. Can you imagine? I bet she lives in some tiny one-bedroom apartment, and he’s mooching all over it while she waits on him hand and foot.’

  ‘Maybe she’ll learn to stand up for herself,’ I said.

  Mum looked dubious. ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘I hope so.’

  Back in my room, I dug out the comic book that Hiro had made for me. Lobstergirl and Shopping Trolley Guy, Vol 1: The Victory Garden. I must have read it twice a day, when Hiro and I were still together. It didn’t look like there’d be any other volumes.

  I opened it to a random page. Shopping Trolley Guy’s shopping trolley had been hurled off the roof of the abandoned factory by the book’s supervillain – a power-hungry developer who had been poisoned by an oil spill and left a greasy trail of pollution everywhere she went. I should have figured it out earlier. Hiro had been trying to tell me about his mum all along.

  Lobstergirl was holding Shopping Trolley Guy by the wrist with one of her red pincers. The other clutched an old electricity cable – the only thing stopping them both from tumbling off the cliff to their certain death.

  Let me go! shouted Shopping Trolley Guy. Save yourself!

  Don’t you remember? Lobstergirl’s expression was defiant. I never let go.

  I never let go.

  I pressed the comic to my face. Hiro had made this. His hands had been on it. I wanted to absorb him, and maybe absorb some of Lobstergirl’s certainty and determination.

  I felt like I was trapped in a cage. I had to get out, back out into the darkness, the soft velvety night where adventures could be had and things could grow. Not just green things, either. Other things had grown in the Victory Garden. Hiro and I had grown closer, and maybe I’d grown up, a little. I didn’t belong here in this little girl’s bedroom, papered with Greenpeace posters and academic achievement awards. I belonged out there. My hands itched to be deep in loamy earth.

  But the Victory Garden was gone. My rage crackled alight again, burning hot and deep in my belly.

  I remembered something Hiro had said.

  Sometimes it feels good just to break stuff.

  I put the comic down carefully. My hands were shaking.

  I was going to break something alright.

  I pulled on a hoodie, a pair of jeans and comfortable sneakers, before looking at myself in the mirror.

  ‘My name is Lobstergirl,’ I told my reflection. ‘I never let go. And tonight I’m going to break some rules.’

  I stood on Hiro’s front doorstep, clutching the Lobstergirl and Shopping Trolley Guy comic in my hand, rehearsing my speech. I didn’t care if he was ashamed of me. I didn’t care if he didn’t want to be my boyfriend. I didn’t care if he thought I was a ginormous snob and he never wanted to speak to me again. I had started this with him, and I wanted him to be there when we finished it. One more night, and then we could go our separate ways.

  Behind me, a streetlight pinged on as the sun sank below the horizon. A breeze stirred the immaculate lawn in Hiro’s front yard, and I shivered. I had no idea how Hiro would react when he saw me. What if he slammed the door in my face?

  I raised my hand to knock, but before I could, the door opened, revealing Michi wearing sneakers, shorts and a David Bowie T-shirt, clearly heading out for a run. She blinked at me in surprise.

  ‘Is Hiro home?’ I asked.

  Michi frowned. ‘I thought he was with you.’

  ‘No. How is he? I heard he got arrested.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Michi. ‘He’s fine. Our parents went mental, of course. But that was two weeks ago. You haven’t seen him since then?’

  I shook my head. ‘We … He broke up with me.’ Saying it out loud felt like one of the most difficult things I’d ever done.

  ‘Wait,’ said Michi. ‘He broke up with you? Is he insane? Has he seen you?’

  I felt myself go red. Of course he wasn’t here. I knew exactly where he was.

  ‘I-I think he’s with Poison Ivy.’

  Michi raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Storm,’ I explained. ‘You know. The ferals from the other day.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Michi, a dark look on her face. ‘I’m going to kill him. Then I’m going to kill her.’

  I remembered Michi’s reaction when I’d mentioned Storm in Maria’s garden.

  ‘Do you know her?’

  Michi paused, then took a step back into the house, holding the door open for me. ‘You’d better come inside,’ she said.

  We went into the kitchen. There was no sign of Hiro’s parents. I perched on a stool, and Michi leaned against the counter.

  ‘Storm was my high school best friend,’ she said.

  I blinked. ‘She’s from Valentine?’

  ‘Back when her name was Alison Bainbridge.’

  I knew her name wasn’t really Storm.

  ‘We became friends on the first day of Year Seven, and were totally inseparable. We were both very idealistic about making the world a better place. We organised a fundraiser to save this all-ages music festival we used to have, and a petition to protest the sexist restrictions Valentine High used to have on uniform, and what sports girls were allowed to play.’

  Sounded familiar.

  ‘But halfway through Year Twelve, something happened. She started hanging out with these radical environmentalists. You know, the ones who actually kind of are terrorists. I never wanted things to get violent. That’s not the way forward. We had a massive fight about it, and we stopped speaking. Then before I knew it, she was all dreadlocks and hemp and calling herself Storm or … What did you call her?’

  ‘Poison Ivy.’

  Michi chuckled. ‘Poison Ivy. I like that.’

  I frowned. ‘Does Hiro know her then? He never mentioned that they’d met before, but they must have if you two were friends.’

  ‘I doubt he realises,’ said Michi. ‘She’s unrecognisable. In high school she was a straight-A student. She ruled the school. She was one of those girls everybody loved. Everything was easy for her, you know?’

  I knew. Poison Ivy had been a Missolini.

  ‘I bet she realises, though,’ I said. ‘Who Hiro is. Who his mum is.’

  Michi looked at me in surprise. ‘Mum?’

  I nodded. ‘I think that’s why Poison Ivy wants him. She knows that if she can expose the mayor’s son as being one of the vandals, it’ll totally undo her campaign.’ I paused for a moment of grudging respect for Poison Ivy. Then my seething hatred kicked in again. ‘What a bitch.’

  Michi’s face was pale with worry. ‘We can’t let Hiro get into more trouble,’ she said. ‘What if Poison Ivy’s got some devious plan to get Hiro arrested again?’

  ‘If she does, she’ll also have someone filming it to make sure that everyone sees.’

  ‘I’m going to rip her dreadlocks out,’ said Michi between gritted teeth.

  ‘Not sure that would play so well on YouTube either,’ I told her. ‘Anyway, you should wait here in case Hiro comes home. You can try and talk some sense into him.’

  Michi nodded. ‘But where will you go?’

  I shrugged. ‘If you wanted to stick it to the mayor, what would you have her son vandalise?’

  I spotted them around the side of the Town Hall, hiding in a pool of darkness between streetlights. One of the dreadlocked goons tried to stop me as I approached, but then he saw my face and stepped aside.

  Hiro was nowhere to be seen. I took a deep breath and marched up to Poison Ivy. She was wearing her usual low-slung fisherman’s pants, and a skimpy singlet with Che Guevara’s face on it.

  ‘Hey,’ I said.

  She looked at me as if I was some kind of disgusting and irritating insect. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Where is Hiro?’

  ‘Who? Oh, your little friend. How the hell should I know?’

  I narrowed my eyes. ‘Stop playing games, Alison. I know your deal.’ I glanced around the group of hippies, and noticed one of them swiftly conceal a video camera behind his back. ‘Subtle,’ I said. ‘So I suppose you were planning to … what, leak it online? Sell it to a local news station? Imagine the headlines: Mayor Disgraced by Terrorist Son.’

  Poison Ivy looked like she was going to deny it, but then her face spread in a smirk and she shrugged.

  ‘You’re an idiot,’ I said. ‘Have you met the mayor? She’s ruthless. If she catches Hiro vandalising the Town Hall, she’ll use it to her advantage. She’ll tell everyone that not even her own family are exempt from her new anti-vandalism laws. It’ll just make her stronger. People will respect her for taking a hard line, and you’ll have just confirmed her argument that this suburb is full of eco-terrorists!’

  Poison Ivy sneered. ‘You’ll say anything to get your boyfriend off the hook.’

  That was when I realised. Hiro wasn’t there. Poison Ivy had tried to lure him to the Town Hall, but he hadn’t come. Something wild and roaring lit up inside me.

  ‘You haven’t seen him at all, have you?’ I asked, just to be sure.

  Poison Ivy gave me a withering look. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I guess underneath all that badass attitude, he’s just a goody-two-shoes like you.’

  I was done. I had nothing else to say to her. I turned to leave.

  ‘Wait,’ said Poison Ivy. ‘While you’re here …’ Her mouth curved in a smile. ‘Do you want to be a little bit bad?’

  I noticed for the first time that she was holding an egg carton. I felt a jolt of recognition, a flashback to when Hiro had first proffered me a seed bomb from an egg carton, back at the very beginning of all this.

  Poison Ivy opened the carton. Instead of it being filled with seed bombs, it was filled with eggs.

  ‘They’re … well aged,’ she said with a savage curl of her lip.

  She lifted one out carefully, and then, in a smooth, sinuous movement, tossed it against one of the windows of the council building. The egg burst and splattered into bits of shell and yolk. It didn’t take long before the smell hit us. It was almost overpowering.

  Poison Ivy looked at me speculatively. ‘Do you want a go?’ she asked, proffering the egg carton.

  Sometimes it feels good to break things.

  I felt myself reach out.

  It would feel so good to break something. To be bad. To break the rules and show the cretins in the council what I really thought of them. To inconvenience them just a tiny bit, so they would know how much they’d inconvenienced me. To destroy something.

  ‘Or perhaps you’d like to do something a little more extreme,’ said Poison Ivy, and she nodded towards the trolley. I peered inside. It was full of bricks and chunks of masonry. I blinked. They were going to throw rocks at the Town Hall. And it was only nine pm. There could be people in there. Late meetings. People could get hurt. Valuable property might get damaged or destroyed.

 

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