74 Keramine Road

I am so sick of my family.

I cannot believe them sometimes. I do nothing but try my hardest, and they never have anything good to say to me! “How are you going to fuck up this time”? Seriously? I move into a new house, and all pretty miss Meg has to say to me is “how are you going to fuck up this time”?

‘Come on, Carla, you remember how badly you fucked up last year’s family reunion!’ Meg’s voice chirps into my ear. ‘You fuck everything up. It’s just what you do.’

‘I thought older sisters were meant to be supportive,’ I grumble. ‘No wonder I’m always fucking up if you’re the example I’m supposed to follow.’

‘Hey, it’s not my fault you’re fat,’ Meg cackles,. ‘You know, if you lost some weight you might actually manage to get a boyfriend!’

‘My weight’s fine!’

‘Maybe if you were a cat,’ she says. ‘But you’re a ferret. Being thin and flexible is our thing. It’s why we’re so popular with the guys.’

‘I’m flexible!’ I snap.

‘Yeah, right. That’s why you fell over trying to tie your shoe last week?’

I don’t humour her with a reply.

‘Just remember, when the zombie apocalypse comes, the fatties will be the first to go!’ Meg continues. ‘At least you’ve got flavour going for you!’

‘Shut up, Meg,’ I hiss. ‘You haven’t had a date in months.’

‘Months is better than years,’ Meg brags. God she’s so condescending. I hate her.

‘Three years not looking isn’t as pathetic as four months signing up for every dating website possible and only getting two matches; both unbathed sloths!’

‘Yeah, I bet you couldn’t even get a sloth!’

‘Yeah? I bet I’d match with the hottest guy on the site,’ grumbling, I pull my headphones out of my bag and stick them in my phone; minimising the call so I can get to my browser. ‘Give me one of them, and I’ll sign up right now!’

‘Well, I’m about to sign up for a site called The Mate Maker,’ Meg laughs, her voice much clearer (and much more punchable) through the headphones. ‘How about we both fill in our profiles, and see who matches with the hottest guy?’

‘Fine!’ growling —and I mean literally growling— I open the app store and search for Mate Maker.

It costs $3.

Fuck.

I hate Meg.

I hate her so. Fucking. Much.

‘What’s with the simmering?’ she asks. I can hear her phone ding with a confirmed purchase and she starts humming and tapping on her screen happily. ‘Three dollars for a chance to fuck, I mean, it’s cheaper than the taxi home after a failed dinner.’

‘Of course you would know all about that,’ I grumble, lowering my voice. ‘Though, if I recall, you didn’t actually pay for the taxi. You just jerked the meerkat off on the way home.’

‘Hey, a free ride’s a free ride,’ Meg cackles. ‘You should be happy he accepted my offer, otherwise you’d have had to pay; not like I had my wallet on me or anything.’

‘I hate you,’ I hiss as I force myself to buy the app. ‘You know that, right?’

‘Just fill in your profile, hon.’

Reluctantly, I do.

Twenty damn minutes of half-arsed answers about favourite colours, movies, foods. Whether or not I want kids. … Or if I’m into girls or guys … or both. How the hell would I know if I’m into both or not?

‘What’s got your panties tied up?’ Meg sings into her receiver. ‘I’m already done, so I suppose I could help you.’

‘It wants to know if I’m gay,’ I sigh through my nose. ‘How the hell am I meant to know that?’

It’s almost impossible to hear my sister’s reply through her laughter. ‘Oh my god, Carla! If you don’t care then just put both. It’ll make it even funnier when you don’t get a date.’

‘Alright, alright,’ rolling my eyes, I put in the final details. ‘How many matches did you get?’

‘I have four compatible guys,’ Meg laughs. ‘What about you?’

‘Two hundred and fifty-six?’ I’m almost as shocked as Meg is. ‘Hold on, I’ll make it guys only— a hundred and twelve?’

‘Sloths?’ she says impishly.

‘A few but … most are actually pretty good looking,’ I can’t contain my shock. I must sound like an idiot. ‘I’ve got one that’s ninety-seven percent compatible, apparently.’

‘Oh, really? What’s he look like?’

‘Like a builder with a beer,’ I mutter, opening his profile. ‘He’s blonde.’

‘Another ferret?’

‘Rabbit, actually. His name’s Joal.’

‘Ooh, you know what they say about rabbits!’ I can almost hear Meg winking. ‘How long are his ears? Longer ears, longer—’

‘Shut up! I don’t think he’d list that on his profile!’ the words are barely out of my mouth when I see it’s listed on his profile. Ugh, how am I supposed to be compatible with this guy, exactly? ‘It says he likes quiz shows.’

‘Does he scream at them? Coz if he does you two would be so annoying at dinner!’

I scoff.

‘Send me a photo,’ says Meg. ‘I gotta see if he’s hotter than my four.’

Sighing, I start to flick through his photos. There are a lot of them, and some of them are … awkward. He doesn’t look very photogenic, but that might be because most of the photos have him wearing a mucky tradie shirt. There’s one of him eating, one of him posing on the hood of a car with another rabbit— one where he’s struggling to get out of a death-grip headlock by an underdressed kangaroo girl. … The cameraman, a strange bug with a bad eye, is doing the peace symbol in this one.

Most of the photos are obviously with his family and friends. I can’t help but think he must be a decent guy, at least.

I settle for a picture of him winking at the camera with a beer; it’s one of the less awkward ones. Surprisingly, his lack of shirt makes the photo less awkward than the ones with his off-white tanks.

‘Wow, he’s muscular,’ Meg laughs when I send her the picture. ‘Lean, too. Like a mannequin. But still, he’s got nothing on my match!’

‘That’s my landlord!’ I exclaim, staring at the screenshot. ‘Don’t you even think about dating him—’

‘And the message is sent!’ Meg laughs. ‘He looks like the sort of guy to message back; though it might have to wait until morning— Or not, he’s an owl after all. Probably be up late. Bet your guy won’t respond if you hit him up.’

‘He would!’ I snap. ‘I’ll send him something now!’

Meg just laughs, and I grumble as I type.

Suddenly, I realise I have no idea what to say. Maybe just … hello? No, too formal. Hey? Yeah, that sounds alright.

‘There,’ I sigh through my nose. ‘He’s been messaged, we’ll see tomorrow who—’

My phone buzzes with his reply and I bite my lip.

An immediate response is not what I was expecting. Not at 3am, at least.

‘Carla?’ Meg sounded confused. ‘You okay?’

‘He responded,’ I told her. ‘Give me a minute, I’m going to talk to him.’

>>Joal Palamor 3:52 AM

>hEY HOW ARE YOU!

Accidental caps lock. That’s never a good sign. I bite my tongue and decide to be nice about it. If I lost him now, I’d never hear the end of it from Meg.

>>Carla Coggs 3:52 AM

>accidentally hit the caps lock lol?

>>Joal Palamor 3:52 AM

>Yeah haha

>How are you?

>>Carla Coggs 3:53 AM

>im okay

>tired

>honesty wasnt expecting a response until morning

>what are you doing up so late?

>>Joal Palamor 3:53 AM

>Your message woke me

I suck in air from my teeth, a shiver of guilt running through me. Ignoring my sister’s yammering, I send a reply.

>>Carla Coggs 3:53 AM

>oh sorry

>>Joal Palamor 3:53 AM

>It’s ok! What’s keeping you awake?

>>Carla Coggs 3:53 AM

>on a bus

>moving across the city

>arguing with my sister

>normal stuff

>you know

>>Joal Palamor 3:53 AM

>Sounds rough

>I fight with my sister all the time.

>You need some friendly company?

>>Carla Coggs 3:54 AM

>sure

>give me a minute

>ill end the call with my sister

>>Joal Palamor 3:54 AM

>Sure! Just message me when you’re ready to chat!

I exit the Mate Maker app and return to the call screen.

‘I’m going to go,’ I tell Meg, hanging up on her before she can reply.

I try to switch to the Mate Maker app, but Meg calls me back. I reject her call, and after only a few seconds her name shows up again. This goes on for a while before she finally gives up calling, and starts spamming me with angry texts.

I ignore the texts and open up my chat with Joal.

>>Carla Coggs 3:58 AM

>she did not like that i hung up on her

>lol

>sorry i took so long

>>Joal Palamor 3:59 AM

>It’s fine!

>Gave me time to get a drink haha

My screen is suddenly filled with yellow as he sends a photo through.

I … don’t. …

>>Carla Coggs 3:59 AM

>what is that

>>Joal Palamor 3:59 AM

>Sorry I dropped the phone on my face and it sent a photo

>>Carla Coggs 3:59 AM

>lol

>>Joal Palamor 3:59 AM

>Speaking of photos…

>You don’t have a profile picture

>I’d love to see what you look like if you’re comfortable with sending me a pic :)

>>Carla Coggs 3:59 AM

>sure

I snap a photo, as good as I can.

I look awful. The bags under my eyes are clearer than ever, and my fur’s matted and messy. … The nicest thing about the photo is the night sky out the window to my side.

>>Joal Palamor 4:00 AM

>Ohhhhhhh

>You’re cute!!!

I feel myself blush at the compliment. I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to reply to a message like that. I take a deep breath and try my best.

>>Carla Coggs 4:00 AM

>your pretty good looking too

>you know

>for a guy

>;)

>>Joal Palamor 4:00 AM

>Good to hear!

>So like

>How interested are you in a date?

>Because I’m down if you are

I feel my chest tighten with anxiety.

Oh no.

This isn’t what I wanted him to think.

I didn’t want to lead him on or make him think I was interested. But god, what else would he be?

Shit.

>>Carla Coggs 4:03 AM

>tbh im not actually looking for a boyfriend

>im just trying to prove a point to my sister

>>Joal Palamor 4:03 AM

>Oh.

>>Carla Coggs 4:03 AM

>sorry

>you seem like a really nice guy tho

>i didnt mean to lead you on or anything

>>Joal Palamor 4:04 AM

>It’s okay

>A little disappointing but I’ll live haha

>>Carla Coggs 4:05 AM

>your profile says you live in longstep

>im actually moving to longstep

>itd be nice to have someone to talk to

>as a friend ofc

>>Joal Palamor 4:06 AM

>Of course.

>>Joal Palamor 4:10 AM

>I’d be happy to meet up sometime

>>Carla Coggs 4:10 AM

>okay

>>Carla Coggs 4:13 AM

>hey

>im really sorry

>i didnt mean to give you the wrong impression

>>Joal Palamor 4:14 AM

>No I get it

>You just messaged me first

>On a dating website.

>And then said you didn’t want to date

>On a dating website.

>>Carla Coggs 4:14 AM

>sorry

>>Joal Palamor 4:15 AM

>It’s fine

>>Joal Palamor 4:20 AM

>Sorry to be awkward

>I’m not mad or anything

>So please don’t think I am when I say this but

>I have to get up early tomorrow

>New housemate is moving in and I need to be there when he arrives

>So I’ll talk to you later

>Be safe alright? Stick to the main streets

>And not to sound racist but keep away from ducks

>There’s a gang

>>Carla Coggs 4:22 AM

>okay

>sorry………

>sleep well

>>Carla Coggs 4:30 AM

>i really am sorry

I sigh, and jam my phone into the bottom of my bag in frustration. I feel relieved that most people on the bus are asleep, but it doesn’t help me feel any less embarrassed.

Maybe I should sleep, too. … But I don’t think I could if I tried. I’ve never been good with sleeping in moving vehicles, especially such long trip on such a cramped bus.

Guess I’ll just ride it out. Sleep when I get there. God I wish I’d gotten a seat at the front. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so ill.

There’s a tug on the back of my hoodie, and I sigh. The kid behind me’s woken up again.

‘What is it?’ I ask, turning in my seat to look at them.

A little bug-girl —I’m not sure what kind, exactly. Some sort of caterpillar?— stares back at me.

She grabs my hood again and pulls on it.

‘Hey, careful, this wasn’t cheap,’ I mutter, moving just far enough forward that they can’t grab me.

The girl grumbles to herself, and pulls out a plush toy from her half-formed cocoon. She stares at it for a long moment before gripping it and violently twisting it’s head.

I scoff and ignore her. Not my kid; not my problem.

A grunt sounds from behind me, and I feel something collide with my back.

It’s the toy’s now-severed head.

‘Is this supposed to be a threat?’ I sigh, chucking the toy back over the seat. ‘Leave me alone, would you?’

She throws it back before grabbing my hoodie and giving another firm tug.

‘What?’

‘Mmmm!’

‘What?’ I snap, harsher than I meant to, and sigh when she stares at me. I try to remind myself that she’s just a kid. I should be more patient— It’s not her fault Meg put me in a bad mood. I take a deep breath and ask as gently as I can, ‘What is it?’

The girl gives a grunt, and begins making a show of rubbing her arms and shivering. 

‘Are you cold?’ I sigh, pulling my hoodie off and feeling the bite of the too-high aircon breeze through my thin shirt and fur. ‘Here. Happy now?’

She quickly throws it over herself and snuggles back into her seat. Her smug grin just cute enough to make me forgive her for being a little shit.

She sort of reminds me of my younger sister.

Fuck I hate Shima.

But not nearly as much as I hate Meg. There’s only one person I hate more than Meg.

My other sister. Roxanne. I hate her more than I hate Meg. Definitely.

Or … do I hate Meg more?

I don’t know. They’re both awful.

With a sigh, I pick up the severed plush head and hold it out for the kid. ‘Do you want this back?’

She shakes her head, and points to me.

‘You don’t want it?’

She points to me again. ‘Mmm!’

‘What? Are you trying to trade it for the hoodie?’ I sigh as she nods. ‘Thanks but … I’m not really interested in severed doll heads. You can keep it.’

She takes it slowly, and I lay against my seat again, the aircon making my fur stand on end.

Five more hours, I tell myself. Just five more hours until I’m home.