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‘It happened not long after Dad left,’ I heard myself say to Miranda. ‘He went without saying goodbye and I knew it was because of me. I felt like – such a
failure.’

Miranda nodded sympathetically and suddenly it was all blurting out of me – everything that had happened that morning on the beach. I told her about how the old Olive used to head to the
beach most mornings with Ralph for a run and, if it was warm enough, a swim. That morning had started the way it always did – or at least that’s how it would’ve looked to anyone
else. Trackpants and T-shirt on. The run down to the beach. My towel – stretched out neatly on the sand like I had every intention of coming back to it. Then I scratched Ralphie’s ears,
told him he was the best dog ever and strode into the water. When it was deep enough, I let the water pick me up and carry me off.

It was all so gentle – that’s what I explained to Miranda. No fighting the current. Just going with it. My plan was to let the ocean draw me out further and further. I figured that
either my water-logged clothes or the exhaustion would pull me down. I didn’t think it would take very long. I felt like I was half-drowned already.

But the ocean rejected me. Instead of pulling me under, it kept pushing me back towards the shore. And on the beach Ralph went nuts, barking and barking. Even though it was probably the seaweed
monsters and not me he was barking at, he still managed to alert a group of surfers. I suppose they thought they were
saving
me when they dragged me out.

I was admitted to the clinic straight away, put on twenty-four-hour surveillance because I was
a danger to myself
and forced to go to therapy session after therapy session to talk about
my feelings. I was there for weeks. Dad never once came to visit me, even though I’m sure Mum would have told him what I’d done. That’s what hurt the most – that he
couldn’t even bring himself to come and see me after I’d done the worst thing you could do.

After I’d finished explaining all this, Miranda and I sat there on my floor for ages. She didn’t try to say any of the things people usually said – about what a tragedy it
would’ve been if I’d succeeded and how I had so much to live for. She just sat there, silently absorbing it. Eventually she picked up one of the photos – me, Toby and Mum at the
beach, arms around each other, smiling. Even Ralph’s big hairy head had squeezed in there.

‘Your dad’s not in this one,’ she said.

I pointed to a blurry shape in the bottom left corner of the photo. ‘That’s his thumb,’ I said. ‘He took the shot.’ And I started laughing because I suddenly
realised how ridiculous it was to keep a photo of someone’s thumb. Miranda smiled but she didn’t laugh. She continued to stare at the photo for a long time. ‘You’re lucky to
have all this,’ she said. ‘I don’t have anything to remember my parents. Everything was lost when I started being shunted around from relative to relative.’

I picked up a cushion and hugged it to my chest, feeling suddenly guilty. I shouldn’t have snapped at Miranda before. I wasn’t the only person who’d had bad stuff happen.
‘How many people have you lived with?’

‘God knows,’ said Miranda bitterly. ‘I stopped counting. I’d just get settled with a new lot when suddenly I’d be told to start packing again.’

‘But why?’ I said.

Miranda exhaled slowly. ‘I guess I was a handful. Hard to control. I played tricks to try and get people’s attention and they always took it the wrong way – like I was
evil
or something. Passing me on was the easiest option.’

‘I was a handful too, as a kid,’ I said. ‘According to Mum. I think that’s why there’s such a huge age gap between me and Toby.’

‘The difference is your mum
loved
you,’ said Miranda. At some point while I’d been talking she’d moved without me noticing, so that now she was positioned right in
front of me on the rug. ‘Unlike the people who got lumped with me. I tried really hard at first. To make them like me, I mean. Finally I realised what a waste of time it was. So I gave
up.’ Miranda was untangling the tassels of the rug with her fingers as she spoke, straightening them out strand by strand. As she did, I glimpsed a row of dark red scars along her
forearm.

‘Oh, Miranda,’ I said, my breath catching in my throat. I remembered that day outside the Mercury with the heavy rain and the make-up on her arm. ‘That must have
sucked.’

Miranda’s face had darkened. ‘Do you know what it’s like as a six-year-old to realise that your supposed guardians are
afraid
of you?’ she spat. ‘It makes
you
despise
them. It makes you want to hurt them, and the things they love.’

Down the hallway in the kitchen I could hear Mum and Toby getting things ready for dinner. The clink of bowls, the metallic ting of cutlery. ‘Why were they afraid?’

Miranda’s eyes, when they met mine, were stones. ‘Because I killed my parents,’ she said.

My heart leapt.
Miranda Vaile the parent-murderer.
That old rumour, from so long ago.

‘But weren’t you just a little kid?’ I said, trying to sound calm. ‘Didn’t they die in a car accident?’

She’s kidding,
I thought, willing Miranda’s face to break into a sudden grin. For her to tease me for falling for another joke. Because if that was true – if she had
murdered her parents after all – what else might be?

Miranda’s expression didn’t change. ‘I remember the accident,’ she said. ‘Even though I was only two. We’d just driven past a playground with a slide shaped
like an elephant. I was desperate to play on it but my parents wouldn’t stop. I screamed and screamed. I felt so angry, strapped in my car seat like that – and I wanted to hurt them. I
remember willing the car to stop, willing it with all my might. And then it did stop … by crashing into a tree.’ Miranda’s face was grey. ‘They both died instantly.’

I reached out my hand. ‘Miranda, that wasn’t your fault.’

‘Wasn’t it?’ she said savagely. ‘My relatives all think it was. One uncle used to love telling me that my tantrum had distracted my dad and that’s why he drove off
the road. They were always so thrilled to get rid of me – passing me around like a virus until Oona finally agreed to take me in. But who knows how long I’ll survive at her
place.’

‘It must be pretty interesting living with Oona,’ I said, picturing her strange, fortress-like house perched up on the hill. This was my attempt to change the conversation. To move
on to less painful stuff.

Miranda snorted. ‘Interesting? It’s like trying to breathe with a pillow held over your face.’

‘Well, you’re welcome over here any time,’ I said, and instantly felt stupid. It had sounded a bit wonkish. But Miranda raised her head and I was surprised by how thrilled she
looked.

‘Really?’ she said. ‘You really mean that?’

‘Of course,’ I found myself saying. ‘Come over any time you want.’

Miranda wiped the tears away and smiled. When I’ve been teary it takes ages for my face to return to normal. But a second later you couldn’t tell Miranda had been crying at all.

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘You’ve got no idea how much that means to me.’

Mum’s voice wafted down the hall, along with the smell of overcooked pumpkin. ‘Dinner!’

‘I better go,’ I said, standing up. ‘That stew is worse when it’s cold. Anyway, you should get ready for your date. Can’t wait to hear about it tomorrow.’

Miranda nodded. ‘Let me just get myself together. And my things.’ She put the clothes she was borrowing in her bag, and then wrapped up all my bits of Proof in the scarf and handed
them back. ‘Thanks, Olive,’ she said, giving me a goodbye hug.

Near the door she hesitated. ‘I know this will probably sound weird,’ she said, ‘but I feel like we’ve got some kind of
connection.
Because of the stuff
we’ve both been through. It’s like I can talk to you, tell you stuff, that I wouldn’t trust anyone else with.’ She chewed on her thumbnail and gave an embarrassed little
smile. ‘It’s like we
get
each other or something.’

And the weird thing was, I felt exactly the same way.

Miranda turned up at school the next morning, dressed not in her uniform but in my skirt and top.
Something’s happened
, I thought. There was something spacey about
her, like she wasn’t all there.

‘Olive!’ she said, nearly knocking me over with her hug. People walked past, staring. But Miranda didn’t seem to notice. ‘I just have to tell you about my lush date! You
would’ve seriously loved it.’ She looked so happy that it made me smile too.

‘Where did you go?’

‘We went into town and saw a gig,’ said Miranda. She patted her cheek. ‘What was he called? Elliott Furphy? Have you heard of him?’

‘You saw
Elliot Furphy
play?’ I said. ‘At the Vault? That’s been sold out for months.’

Miranda shrugged. ‘Dallas is friends with Elli. We got in for free.’

‘Oh,’ I said, feeling a stab of jealousy. ‘Right.’ Of
course
Dallas would be friends with Elliot Furphy. Of
course
Miranda would see his band play for free.
‘Was it good?’

‘I didn’t pay much attention,’ giggled Miranda. ‘I was a bit distracted by Dallas. He’s so
incredible
, Olive. Look at my hands. They won’t stop
trembling.’ She held her hands out. They looked pretty steady to me, although I did notice Miranda seemed to have picked up a bad habit of mine – chewing her fingernails.

‘Sounds like it was a great date,’ I said.

‘It’s
still
a great date! We’ve been up all night and we’re going to hang out today.’ She smirked at me. ‘Jealous much?’

‘That’s why you’re not in your uniform,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure how you’re going to get away with skipping two days of school in a row though. What do
you want me to tell Mrs Deane if she asks?’

Miranda was frowning at me. ‘I asked you a
question.
Are you jealous of me?’

I laughed. ‘Of course I am! Who wouldn’t be?’

Miranda smiled, satisfied. ‘I’ve gotta go. Dallas is waiting.’ She turned to go, but then stopped. ‘Hey, are you free tonight?’

I wasn’t. Once a month Mum drove interstate to pick up supplies. She usually left one evening and came back late the following night. ‘I have to look after Toby.’

Miranda wrinkled her nose. ‘What a shame,’ she said. ‘We’re going to see Elliot again tonight. It’s the last gig – I thought you’d like to
come.’

‘Really?’ I said. ‘You think Dallas could get me in?’

‘We already have your ticket,’ said Miranda.

I sighed deeply. ‘I wish I could.’

Miranda nodded sympathetically. ‘Well, at least you’ll earn some money, I guess,’ she said.

‘I don’t get paid for babysitting Toby,’ I said, laughing.

Miranda’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘No offence, but it sounds like your mum is taking advantage of you.’

‘It’s no big deal,’ I said. But Miranda had a point. I was doing Mum a pretty huge favour. And I did mind Toby a lot.

Miranda shrugged. ‘Look, it’d be cool if you came. If you change your mind – or if your mum realises that she’s asking too much – Dallas is picking me up at
Oona’s around nine.’

I felt grouchy and restless for the rest of the day, unable even to pretend that I was concentrating on school. The grouchiness only increased when I got home. Dinner was
spinach and quinoa lasagne.
It’d be nice if we got some meat occasionally,
I thought grumpily, pushing my food around.
Just because she’s vegetarian, why should we have to
be?

Mum gave me a concerned look. ‘You don’t seem a hundred per cent,’ she said, that familiar look of worry on her face. ‘Maybe I should cancel the trip.’

‘Don’t be crazy,’ I said in a monotone. I wasn’t in the mood to mollycoddle her tonight. ‘You go.’

I thought that after she’d left, I’d accept that I’d missed out on the gig. But the irritation just grew. I bustled Toby off to bed way earlier than usual and then stomped off
to my room, planning to do some homework and drown my sorrows by listening to music.

But my mind refused to think about French grammar and the music just made me more stir-crazy than ever.