Monday morning seems to drag on forever, because I'm still so tired, but before lunch I have chemistry, and Lucas surprises me by sitting beside me for our final lab of the year.
While our teacher explains final notes for our exam, Lucas and I mess around with Bunsen burners at the back of class, just like we used to do in grade nine.
'So what did my dad talk to you about in the car?' I ask him.
'Well first he wanted me to confirm your story,' Lucas says. 'But I told him about how I looked through the police reports and figured everything out. And then after that he kind of wanted to know... well, I think his exact words were "you better treat her better this time."'
I raise my eyebrows and look at Lucas. He gives me a coy grin, and I smile back. 'You'll have to start taking up drum lessons with Dad again.'
Lucas scoffs. 'As much as I liked making music, the music industry does not appeal to me at all. I think my parents and George Addison have kind of ruined it for me. I might just stick to chemistry. Are you still planning on travelling?'
'Definitely,' I say. 'I think Julian wants to. We'd make a good team. I think he wants to do some photography. We could start a travel blog together with his photos and art and my writing.'
'That actually sounds amazing,' Lucas says. He becomes intensely focused on twisting the Bunsen burner so that the flame goes low and blue, and doesn't look up to me when he says, 'But I'm going to miss you if you're away all the time. I kind of only just got you back.'
I feel this weird surge in my chest and I know my cheeks have gone red so I look down at my notebook. 'I'm going to miss you too.'
'Okay so this is probably gonna be weird, and you don't have to think anything of it, but I was just thinking that we could like... maybe go to the grad ball, I mean, you know, just because you live close and I could come pick you up.'
I realise that I've dropped the pencil that I'm holding, and I hastily crouch down to pick it up, and in my haste I knock my head against the bench.
'Ow,' I say, kneeling down and rubbing my head. Lucas ducks down beside me, so that we're both behind the bench, and he touches my forehead gently.
'Sorry, that was stupid,' he says. 'Are you alright?'
'I hit my head,' I state dumbly. I suddenly realise that I'm wearing a stupid white lab coat and big safety glasses and I'm crouching behind a laboratory bench rubbing my head, and I think, maybe, that Lucas might have asked me to the graduation formal dinner, but he sounded like such a goof that I'm not entirely sure.
'Okay wait, backpedal,' I say. 'Did you ask me to formal?'
'Kind of?' Lucas says, giving me a hesitant grin.
'Well I'll kind of say yes then,' I tease.
'Is your head okay? Because I mean, you just bumped it, and now you're saying you'll go to formal with me and I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be saying that if you didn't have a proper head injury.'
'Oh shut up,' I say, and I grab onto the bench top and pull myself up. Lucas does the same, and we try to pretend that we're concentrating on the lesson again.
At lunch, Julian is supposed to be working on his final art piece, and Watson is supposed to be writing his history essay, but when I tell them that I need to explain what happened on Saturday night, they meet me at our lunch table with Ainsley and Harrison.
'If this is just going to be you explaining that you're banging Lucas now,' Watson says tersely as he sits down. He has two pies from the tuckshop and he's smothering them in tomato sauce. I watch him spread the tomato sauce with his fingers, because I feel a blush rising in my neck that has something to do with him saying "banging Lucas", and I don't want to look into his eyes.
'She met the band,' Ainsley says, taking a big bite out of her peanut butter sandwich defiantly. 'Now talk, Em!'
I gather strength from Ainsley's eating and look up at Watson. He's licking tomato sauce off his fingers and watching me edgily. Sometimes Watson seems like he totally doesn't care about me, and sometimes, like today, he lets his streak of jealousy shine through.
'Lucas and I figured something out,' I say. 'About George Addison.'
'What's that got to do with Two Soap Dolls?' Ainsley asks.
'As we've established, George was dating Julian's mum,' I say, glancing up at Julian. He shifts in his seat and looks uncomfortable.
'But that relationship broke up, because George started getting with another woman. Claire Davids. When George broke up with Julian's mum, that broke up Dime's the Limit. But George and Claire continued dating. Then one night Claire and George had a fight. I can only really speculate on what that was about, but I think it was the first time Claire told George she was pregnant. I think he got really drunk or really high or something, and decided he was going to kill himself.'
'Don't we know this?' Watson asks.
'But,' I say sternly, 'George didn't actually kill himself.'
'Um,' Julian says. 'What?'
'Bare with me,' I say. 'In my dad's book, Dad went to George's apartment that night. He left a bottle of wine on the counter, and then found George's brand new guitar. He played it for a while then went home. But in the police report, there was no new guitar in the apartment. And there was a note on the fridge. It would have been nearly impossible for my dad to miss it.'
Julian is frowning at me as if he's trying to work out a math equation in his head.
'Lucas figured out that maybe George went back to the apartment that night. He already left his car at the bridge, which was why everyone thought he jumped off it. But he went back to the apartment, took his guitar, left a note, and then ran. I think he might have gone to Sydney or something. And the only one who knew he was alive was a young wannabe musician named Augie Porters.'
'Augie Porters? The lead singer...' Ainsley interrupts. I nod at her.
'Lucas and I went backstage after the show and met Augie. He tried to deny it, but eventually he told us that George is well and truly alive. And that in fact he was actually there, at the show. George Addison has invented a whole new identity, and now goes by the name Scott Richard and works as the band manager of Two Soap Dolls.'
'What the fuck,' Julian says. 'Did you meet him?'
I nod.
'Are you sure about this?' Julian asks. 'Dude, does my mum know? Also does this mean that Lexington Davids is actually George Addison's daughter?'
'That's the theory,' I say. 'He didn't know she was around. He had heard that Claire terminated the pregnancy. That's the story she told all our parents too.'
'What the fuck,' Julian murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.
'Why didn't you tell us this?' Watson asks. 'You just went investigating with Lucas?'
'We had no proof; it was just speculation. And you've hardly believed things I've said before,' I say coldly.
Watson grits his teeth.
Harrison starts laughing, and I can tell it's in an effort to break the tension. 'Oh man,' he says, and he looks at Julian. 'Your mum is going to freak hard. This is great.'
Julian looks between Harrison and me, and I can tell there's some kind of struggle there, but then he grins at Harrison. 'Yeah, you fucking know it dude. This is whack.'
Harrison laughs again, but then puts his hand across the table. 'You're not going to be alone when she finds this out, okay? We'll be there for you.'
Julian looks down at the table, and then back up at Harrison. 'Yeah, I know you will.'
Harrison smiles.
I look at Ainsley, and I realise that I had intended to tell the group about Mum's car crash, but now I don't want to. I don't want to ruin this moment. So I decide I'll have to tell them another time. But for now that moment, that crash, is something that Lucas and I share, even if it's horrific.
'Hey, while we're on the topic of news,' Watson says. 'They're going to announce it at the graduation assembly but I found out already. I won the dux award, so I'm getting the scholarship to Monash university! I beat Duncan!'
Ainsley pulls me aside quietly.
'You won't believe this!'
'What?' I ask Ainsley.
'I told my parents about how much money we raised for the dog shelter and they were so proud of my initiative and how much work I had put into it and they said... they think I'm responsible enough to get a dog!'
'You... a dog?' I exclaim. 'It's actually happening? And are you getting the dog from the shelter?'
'Yes!' Ainsley cries. 'We rang up today about him! And we're going to visit him tomorrow after school and see if he's a good match for our family but it's happening! We're going to save him and I'm getting a dog!'
'Ainsley, that's amazing!'
'Mum wasn't even mad that I didn't pass that little quiz in maths because she says she knows that someone as passionate as me will be so successful in life and... uh, I don't know Em, but I think we bonded! Like I think she actually said nice things about me!'
I feel a surge of happiness take hold of me. 'I am so excited for you,' I tell her. 'And I'm so proud of you, too.'
Ainsley laughs. 'Now you sound like my mother.'
'And for the first time, I'll actually take that as a compliment,' I say, beaming.
When I get home, Mum has locked herself in her bedroom and Dad is pacing around the study.
'Dad?' I ask, leaning on the doorway.
He turns and looks at me. 'I got in contact with Augie Porters. He confirmed your story. He says that his band manager is going to stay in Brisbane while the band keeps touring. He's going to organise a meeting. He says that George Addison is ready to come back out, if it means that the police will drop this investigation. And he wants to meet his daughter.'
Dad collapses into the seat, as if saying all of this exhausted him. He puts his hands to his forehead. I step into the room and lean on the desk and put a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at me.
'I don't know who to call first,' Dad says. 'Should I just meet him, and talk to him, and then tell the guys? Or do I get Trevor and Karen and Ivan and Nicoletta? Oh God, what about Nicoletta? When she finds out...'
'Dad,' I say. 'It'll be fine. Talk to Trevor. Just Trevor. Talk to the Shepherds later. And then the four of you can talk to Nicoletta together.'
Dad spins in the chair and picks up his phone from the desk. 'Okay, you're right.' He looks up at me. 'When did you get this sorted out, Em?'
'What do you mean?' I ask.
'I seem to have this image in my mind of you crying about boys and lying about failing maths. When did you get this whole life thing sorted out? You've changed, but it's good. You're more grown up.'
'Thanks,' I say. 'But I don't know. I guess that's what happens. I'm almost seventeen.'
'You are,' Dad says. 'You're turning seventeen and you're graduating. You're not that little kid Em anymore.'
I nod. 'Call Trev,' I suggest. 'Lucas's dad always knows what to do.'