The meeting at the hall that evening was fairly short. No one seemed to have much to say, and a lot of us were still pretty tired after the previous night's late meeting.
"I didn't get home from the hall til eleven," Tamara yawned, "and didn't get to sleep til about twelve-thirty."
"Well I didn't get to sleep til two in the morning," Tia said, then grinned slyly. "But Jake had a lot to do with that."
"Thanks, Tia, we don't really want to know," I cut in.
We chatted for a while, before about half the group decided to go home early. Some of us stayed: Anastasia had to do lab work for her biology course, Julian had to do research, and Oswald just had nothing better to do.
I was about to leave, when my phone rang. I examined it and noticed 'Mum' was calling.



I flipped it open. "Hi, Mum."
"Hi, Ellie," Mum said, sounding tired and exasperated. "Listen, we're not going to be home until quite late."
"Why?"
A sigh. "Apparently, something showed up on the X ray, but it needs some other further test to see how much damage I've done."
"What have you done?"
"They think I've torn the cartilage in my joint."
I winced. "Ouch."
"Anyway," Mum sighed again, "I need to go to the hospital for this further test thing, but it means we won't be home until fairly late. Do you think you can manage?"
"Yeah, sure," I said. "I hope everything goes well."
"I hope so too. Can you put me on to your brother for a moment?"
"Yeah, hold on…" I handed the phone to Adam, mouthing 'Mum'. He started talking away.
Anastasia was standing at the lab bench, looking confusedly from a row of test tubes to a piece of paper beside her. She yawned a little, then looked at me. "Ellie?"
"Yeah?"
"Can you help me out?"
I wandered over to look at what Anastasia was doing. She sighed. "It's too early in the night to be thinking…have you done this prac yet?"



Both of us were taking biology as one of our HSC courses* (see footnote), but I was able to make use of my mum's lab and expertise when it came to practicals. Anastasia, on the other hand, had to rely on written instructions and the small lab setup in the community hall.
Adam interrupted me before I could answer. "Ellie, you've got your house keys, don't you?"
I patted my pockets. "No, but since you were the last to leave, you should have them…don't you?"
Adam looked sheepish. "I think I locked them in the house."
I exploded in exasperation. "How did you manage that?"
"I'm talented."
"Great," I muttered. "Now I'm stuck here with this moron—"
"Hey!"
"Not you, Anastasia…" I sighed. Adam and I wouldn't be able to get into our own home until our parents returned, and we had no idea when that would be.
"Well then, Anastasia, I guess I'm going to be able to stay here and help you for a lot longer than I thought," I said, sighing again.
"Thanks," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Um, anyway. Yeah, it's something to do with rennin and milk and stuff, but I can't get it to clot…"
It was a fairly simple prac, involving enzymes and substrates, so I was able to help Anastasia without too much trouble. I started off by pointing out a crucial error she was making in her experiment.
"Ohhhh!" she said, understanding. "Oh, right. No acid. OK. That makes more sense." She looked at her experiment for a moment. "I'm going to need more test tubes, then."
I nodded. She then glanced up, appeared to make eye contact with my brother for no apparent reason, then called out to Julian, who was studying an encyclopedia on the couch (seriously, who even does that any more? Hasn't he ever heard of the Internet? Google? Wikipedia? Honestly).



"Oi, Jules, can you get me some more test tubes from the store room?" she called.
Julian looked up, looked from Anastasia's face to the experiment, then reluctantly put the book down. "You're sure you can't get them yourself?"
Anastasia shook her head, although I didn't see why she couldn't get them herself. Perhaps she was just lazy.
Julian got up, leaving his encyclopedia on the couch, and walked into the store room attached to the youth room, which held plenty of miscellaneous supplies for the hall.
Suddenly, Anastasia grabbed my right arm. It didn't hurt, and she was gentle enough, but vampires are ten times stronger than the average human – and soon, Oswald came and grabbed my other arm, completely overpowering me.
"Hey!" I cried. "What's going on?"
"Oh, nothing," Oswald said, grinning from ear to ear. They both started pushing and dragging me towards the storeroom. "It's just another…experiment."
I tried breaking free of their grip, but it was impossible. I knew they didn't have anything malicious in mind—
It clicked when I saw Adam holding the key to the store room door. "Oh, no," I said, shaking my head and trying even harder to break free. "No, no, don't you dare—!"
"This is going to be interesting," Oswald commented casually to Adam, and he laughed.
"ADAM!" I yelled.
"Yeah?"
"STOP IT!"
But they didn't. In fact, they'd already dragged me right up to the store room door, and with a gentle shove, they pushed me inside, next to a surprised Julian.
I whirled around as soon as they'd released my arms, but the door was already closed, and I heard the key turn in the lock.
"ADAM!" I yelled again, slamming my hands against the door ineffectually. "Let me out of here!"
All I could hear was laughter coming from the other side of the door, and a slap that could have been a high five. I banged on the door again. "Let us out!"
More laughter. "Goodnight, Ellie," Adam called through the door. "Goodnight, Julian…"
I kicked the door, swearing loudly at the people on the other side. They'd been planning this all along: shutting me in the store room with my known adversary and the biggest jerk on the planet, Julian Druitt.



I was livid. I kept banging on the door for a while, but I realised they'd all left, and there wasn't much use. With another pang of anger, I realised I didn't even have my phone to call for help – Adam still had it from when Mum had called. As well as that, Mum and Dad wouldn't even be home for who knows how long, so no one would realise I was gone!
It was all so frustrating. Plus, I could already feel bruises blossoming on my arm where I'd struggled against Anastasia's grip. I vowed that I would get them back somehow, in some other kind of nasty prank.
But until then, I had to get through being shut in a small room with Julian.
Once I'd had enough of clamouring for release, I stood and turned to him, avoiding eye contact. "Some wonderful friends we have," I said acidly.
Julian nodded. "That's the last time I go to get test tubes for anybody," he said.
There was a long, awkward silence, during which neither of us looked at each other. I looked around our prison, taking in the dusty books on shelves, the disused cleaning equipment, the abandoned artwork that someone had left on the floor, and some writing in black crayon on the ceiling: JENNY WAS HERE 2004.
"Huh," I commented softly. "What an achievement. I'm so proud of her. Such vision."
Julian glanced up, then looked at me. "I wonder, have you always been this sarcastic?"
"No," I replied quickly. "I'm only sarcastic around arrogant people."
"So, what is your problem, exactly?" Julian said, starting to sound a little angry.
"You!" I yelled, then corrected myself. "No, not you necessarily. Your attitude. I cannot stand your attitude."



"My attitude!?" Julian exclaimed in disbelief, his voice beginning to rise.
"Yes, your attitude," I emphasised. "You're always so arrogant and patronizing, like you know everything, but no one else can hope to understand it, like we can't all ascend to your highly esteemed level of intelligence—"
"Patronizing?" Now Julian sounded angry. "I don't see what you're getting at— at least I don't blow my top at anyone if they don't understand something. I try to talk to people on their own level—"
"See?" I yelled. "You're doing it again! Just listen to yourself for once!"
"Maybe you should listen to what you say a bit more often, too!"
"Oh? And what do I say that's so terrible?"
"You always think you're being so funny," Julian sneered. "So witty. They say sarcasm is the lowest form of humour, you realise."
I made an 'I don't believe this!' noise. "So now I'm the one with an attitude problem, am I?"
"Yes!"
"Well, that's news to me, buddy! Because to me, it seems as though you're the one with the superiority complex, and I'm the one trying to find humour in things—"
"Don't play me for a fool," Julian said, casually, but with venom.
I stopped. "What?"
"You heard what I said," he said, simply.
"Oh?" I stopped for a moment, trying to figure him out. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that."
"Don't say things if you're not going to explain them!" I cried in frustration.
"But according to you, that involves being patronizing," Julian countered swiftly.
I stopped again and just glared at him. "There are different— ways of explaining things," I said. "You don't have to be smug about it."
"And you don't have to be spitting sarcasm every time you want to make people laugh."
"That's just what I do!" I cried. "It's part of who I am!"
"Then you have no right to insult part of who I am!" Julian retorted.
"Well, you asked me what my problem was," I said. "So I told you, you absolute tool."
I stopped, and stood there with my arms folded, challenging him to reply. He just looked at me as though trying to figure me out.



"You always have to have the last word, don't you?" he said. "As though every conversation is a contest that you have to win, and you always have to be right."
"No, that's generally a male mentality, I've found," I replied.
Julian stayed silent. He just stood there, looking at me.
I wasn't sure if he was acknowledging that I'd won, or disproving what I'd just said about males always wanting to win, and thus proving me wrong. Whatever it was, it felt uncomfortable. As though there was too much hot air hanging between us. Too much pressure.
Acting on impulse, I turned quickly to face the shelves of dusty old books, picked one at random, and sat down to pretend to read it, deliberately not looking at Julian. Inside, I was still fuming. I wouldn't have been surprised if smoke had started pouring from my ears.
After a few seconds had passed, Julian pointed out, "Do you realise you're trying to read 'A History of Art' upside down?"
I looked up at him, still holding the book. There was just a trace of a smile on his face, and I felt a brief whisper of a smile flit across my own lips, too, despite myself.
I sighed, putting the book back onto a shelf at random, and Julian sat down near the abandoned artwork, facing me. He glanced up at the ceiling. "I wonder how Jenny managed to write that on the ceiling?"
"A ladder?" I suggested.
He shrugged, nodding. "Possible, I guess."
Silence. I was suddenly worried that there would be awkward silences that neither of us would be able to fill, and I could feel one about to take hold very soon. I tried to prevent it.



"Did Amelia take a good photo of you and your mum?" I asked.
Julian nodded. "Yeah, she showed it to us afterwards. I'm not usually a fan of photos myself, and Mum definitely didn't like it. She hates anyone looking for too long at her face. But Amelia's nice enough."
"Nice enough?" I asked, slightly teasing. "My best friend is only 'nice enough'?"
He shrugged. "You know what I mean."
More awkward silence. This time, Julian broke it. "I think I'm going to kill those three when we finally get out of here."
"Well, I'll kill my brother," I offered. "But I'd like to see you take on two vampires."
"I'd somehow force them into surrender," he said.
"I'd like to see you try," I challenged teasingly.
He looked thoughtful. "Well," he began, "I guess I could…" He trailed off, still thinking. Then he said, "No, I probably wouldn't be able to do much, actually."
I laughed a little. "That's a change," I said.
"What?" he asked, grinning slightly.
"Admitting you're wrong," I said.
He shrugged. "I know I'm wrong sometimes…just not very often." He threw a quick sideways glance at me, as if to check whether I'd explode at the comment, and start the fighting all over again. But I didn't. I just raised my eyebrows and gave him a disbelieving half-smile.
We somehow managed to fill in the time, talking a little awkwardly about various things. I began to wonder, though, exactly how long we'd be stuck in here. My legs were starting to ache, and I was feeling thirsty.
I stood up, groaning with effort and stretching my aching limbs. "I really shouldn't be sitting on the ground," I muttered.



"Why?" Julian asked, also standing. "Too dirty for you?"
I shot him a nasty look. "No," I replied, a little offended. "I had deep vein thrombosis a few years ago, remember? I'm not meant to sit for too long with my legs crossed, on the ground."
His eyebrows went up. "I do remember that, actually...you were wearing some kind of strange medical stockings for a while?"
This, of course, provided another conversation avenue to pursue. I told him all about my medical crisis: the aching legs, the ultrasounds showing clots in my veins that I didn't understand, the endless blood tests, the painful injections, and the gruelling six-month long ordeal of a revolving door of blood thinners and blood tests.
Then, surprisingly, he opened up as well, telling me about his own demons: the mysterious disfiguring disease that haunted his mother, how his father left as soon as she developed scars, how she was shunned by her community because of her shocking appearance, their flight to the isolated community of Solitaria, and the process of trying to come to terms with their lifestyle.
"It was good, because everyone here was very supportive, and eventually my Mum wasn't afraid to walk out the front door. Lou was especially good to us. I think he sort of understood how Mum felt, being stared at all the time. Anyway, he helped us set up the house, and gave us free food and coffee for a few weeks while we settled in." He laughed. "Then, once we felt more comfortable, he grinned and started charging."
I laughed. Lou had a mischievous streak that belied his gentle, intelligent personality. I could imagine him smiling cheekily at Rosie and telling her the price of coffee.



"What did your mum say when he started asking for money?" I asked.
"She just smiled, and handed it over," Julian replied. "She really didn't mind. And she was more than grateful for his hospitality."
Suddenly, after what had turned out to be several hours, I heard the rattle of a key in the lock of the store room door. It was thrown open to reveal Amelia, standing there, stunned to see us.



"Oh, my God!" she said, then launched straight into her tale. "So, I called your mobile to tell you that you'd left your wallet on my desk, and your brother answered it. So I asked him why he was answering your phone, and he told me that you weren't available. I asked him what on Earth he meant, threatened to blackmail him, and eventually he told me that you'd been locked in the store room with Julian." She leaned around the doorframe and waved. "Hi, Julian."
He waved back. I stood up again, groaning. "Blackmail, huh? I wish I'd thought of that."
"I can't believe they did that!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "That's really slack! I started telling your brother off, but he hung up on me."
"Don't worry," I assured her, "he's going to cop it sweet when I get home."
"Are you OK?" Amelia looked concerned. "Like do you need anything?"
"A glass of water would be nice," I admitted, "but—no, don't worry about it Amelia, I'll get one when I get home."
"Are you sure?" she asked. I nodded.
I was surprised that I hadn't noticed how stuffy it had become in the store room – going out into the hall again was like entering a fresh, new world. Julian followed, saying "Thanks" to Amelia on the way. He looked at me briefly, said goodbye, and walked out of the hall, heading home.
As we walked out, Amelia said "I hate to ask, but…how did it go?"
"What?"
"In there." She gestured with her head towards the storeroom. "With the person you hate."



"I don't hate him," I said, affronted. "I've been through this before; I never 'hated' him. I just couldn't stand him. But we both survived."
Amelia looked surprised. "Wow," she said.
Even I had to admit to myself – it had been an interesting experience.

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* AUSTRALIAN REFERENCES 101: 'The HSC' = Higher School Certificate. In the state of New South Wales, students in their final two years of high school choose various subjects to study (usually between 5 and 7 courses). Over two years, they complete assignments and other coursework that goes towards their 'HSC', which is the qualification they leave school with. There are also final exams at the end of all this coursework. These exams generally cause much stress and media attention, since the marks you get at the end of your HSC generally decide where you go after high school - which university course you get into, college, etc. Other Australian states have an equivalent to the HSC in New South Wales.