Zac and Mia by A.J. Betts Read Free Book Online Page A

of nail polish, followed by trails of inane comments by some of her 1152 friends. Seriously? Who knows that many people?
    But there’s no ‘C’ word. There’s not even a ‘chemo’.
    Rotto? It doesn’t make sense. Has she really fooledthem into believing it’s just a sore leg? The new girl might have good odds, but it’s still cancer, and it sucks. It’ll suck for ages.
    Tap
.
    Her friends have been posting crap about summer holidays and pre-Christmas sales, not realising Mia’s been in and out of hospital, feeling like death. Why hasn’t she told them?
    I scroll further and see her life in reverse, back through a couple of whinges about a sore ankle, then back to before, to the usual complaints about school, to invitations to the beach, to Karrinyup, to her photos tagged at the Big Day Out and Summadayze. I see her Facebook life exposed in a beautiful, colourful rush, but I still see none of her.
    Then my iPad makes an unexpected
blop
sound and in the bottom right corner of the screen, the chat box tells me ‘Mia is typing …’
    Blop
.
    Mia: Is that YOU?
    Shit! Can she sense I’m on her page? Does she think I’m spying? But
she
invited
me
!
    Five minutes ago I was watching day two of the test against Sri Lanka, and now I’m being belted with stressful taps and questions from the girl next door. Mia. I need to slow her down, or speed myself up. And why is
YOU
in capitals?
    Tap
.
    ‘Zac?’ Mum’s voice is testy. ‘Was that you?’
    What the hell? Which do I answer first? The wall or the Facebook question? Or my mum? And what do I say anyway?
    Another
blop
.
    Mia: Hey!
    R U there? Zac Meier?
    The cursor flashes angrily beneath the question, but I’m a rabbit in her headlights.
    Tap!
    There was definite knuckle-crunching in that one. Her demands are in stereo.
    Shit. I type:
    Zac: I’m her
    But my fingers slip across the iPad’s touch screen and I press ‘Enter’ prematurely. There’s a pause long enough to regret my error. Long enough for confusion to sink in next door.
    Mia: R u a girl?
    Zac: No
    I opt for a short message. Brief is better. This touch screen is a minefield.
    Zac: I’m here
    A male
    I add, for clarification, though I lose a few seconds considering the options of ‘boy’ and ‘man’. Surely she knows I’m male! She’s seen me through my window at least four times. Could it be that my constant proximity to females—my mother, the predominantly femalestaff, possibly even my bone marrow—has seriously compromised my Y chromosomes? More questions are fired:
    Mia: Who r u?
    Is that u next door?
    Zac: Yes. Rm 1. Yr neighbour. Zac
    Male
    I say again for emphasis.
    Mia: But yr profile pic is a girl …
    Shit. She’s right. I’d forgotten about the German Beerfest girl with long blonde plaits and generous cleavage.
    Zac: not me. thats a joke
    How do I explain in abbreviation about the nickname ‘Helga’ and the unknown German donor?
    Zac: Long story … am part Helga … possibly …
    Mia: ?
    Zac: !
    What else can I say?
    The cursor blinks at me in disbelief. I need to prove I’m me so I reach across and knock on the wall. It sounds different to before.
    Mum is watching me. She eyes my fist. I’d forgotten she was here.
    Mia: y did u put yr number in my drawer?
    Zac: Not yours. Cam’s. Misbake
    Why does this have to be so hard? Cam must have left my note behind accidentally. So much for the cleaners.
    Zac: Mistake. Mistake!!!!
    The repetition and exclamation marks look pissed off, as if I emphatically regret friending her, which I do, but only because I’m making a complete dick of myself.
    She types nothing and I think she regrets it too. Why bother being friends with someone you can’t meet? Someone who looks the way I do and types so recklessly.
    I take a deep breath and start again. I need to spell this out.
    Zac: Didnt put note in yr room.
    Am stuck in here.
    Note for someone else—Cam. He’s in
    room 6 now.
    But mistake ok.
    Ok?
    She answers my question with