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  Denpasar airport is congested with people. They spill through the arrivals gate amid loud excitement. An endless stream of people rush to the customs gate, eager to be through the airport and on their holiday. The Indonesian travelers move at a more languid pace, a little more reticent to return to life beyond the gates. Zoe and her family are pushed along with the crowd to a line that snakes forever. Zoe's finally in front of the unsmiling customs man who stamps her passport and nods her through. On the other side, their luggage waits surrounded by petite, wiry men, all eager to help them carry it. Charli's dad shakes his head.

  'No,' he says shaking his head and raising his hand. 'We have a driver.' He always hires a private villa for their Bali holidays, which comes with a cook, masseuse, and driver.

  Zoe is the first to spot the little man in a white shirt with 'Verity' scrawled on a piece of cardboard. She points and shouts above the din.

  'Over there, Dad.'

  By this time, baby Joe is red faced and howling, frightened by the chaos and strange people, and Madelyn is clinging to her mother's skirts, eyes wide.

  Martin Verity herds them all toward the man, who greets them with a polite hello and nod. He grabs Lisa's bag in one hand and her mother's in the other and asks them to follow. The car park is crowded with people and drivers amid the rows of vehicles. He stops at a black mini-van with tinted windows and slides back the door for them to enter.

  "Please,' he says gesturing to the door with a smile. After sliding the door closed after them, he stacks their luggage in the rear. The interior is roomy, comfortable, and even has seat belts, a luxury in Balinese transport.

  Zoe clips her belt and settles back for the turbulent ride ahead. She's been to Bali many times and is familiar with the tumultuous traffic system here. Road rules seem non-existent to the Western traveler as cars battle for supremacy, using their horns to announce their intentions. Three lanes merge into one as urban arteries bleed into windy, rural tracks. Besides the masses of cars, motorized scooters swarm the roads like ants. They weave in and out of traffic, cart long and heavy loads, and house complete families without a thought for the safety principles that dictate the road rules in Australia.

  She averts her eyes when a large truck, overloaded with building materials, rumbles in the lane beside them. Madelyn is sitting beside her, craning to see out the window and staring at the scooters and other cars whizzing past. It's her first trip to Bali, and Zoe can see she is mesmerised by everything around her. She points to four people riding astride a scooter, with a baby between its mother's legs at the front. Zoe shrugs her shoulders at Madeline and shakes her head in disbelief.

  The footpaths and buildings are in complete contrast to what they're used to at home. The dwellings appear rough and dirty and have irregular brickwork and lopsided walls. Scaffolding balances like 'Pick-up-sticks' on the outside of many buildings, threatening to collapse at the slightest provocation. The pedestrian paths have craggy brickwork, unfilled holes, and scattered litter. Mangy dogs languish on the roadside and street corners and steal meagre grains of rice from the offerings in front of stores. The Balinese are diligent in producing the tiny woven baskets of food and incense as offerings to their Gods. Zoe feels sorry for the dogs. There always seems to be so many. She's glad when they leave the city and enter the seaside town of Sanur, where the streets are cleaner, the air is salty, and their villa awaits.

  After forty minutes of driving, they turn down a narrow road that takes them through rice paddies filled with bent farmers and flocks of noisy ducks. Their driver stops in front of a beautiful white building, and a man rushes out to open the car door and welcome them to the Sanur Villas. They are ushered into a spacious foyer and greeted by a tiny Balinese woman in traditional dress with a tray of fruit drinks and a cool facecloth for each of them. The foyer leads onto a dining area, which looks out over the rice paddies. The half-grown rice plants are vibrant green, and white ducks burrow into the water at their roots with wide, yellow beaks. Beyond the paddies are paddocks, trees, and rows of houses in the distance. There's a walking track to the right with a meandering line of people strolling in the sun. After sipping her drink, Zoe is shown her room by the same petite woman with the drinks. The woman's name is Madu, and she smiles and nods as she backs from the room, leaving Zoe to explore. The room has a four-poster bed with a mosquito net hanging overhead. There are two bedside tables housing small lamps, a carved wooden cupboard, and an outdoor bathroom with a bath, shower, toilet, and basin. Rose petals float atop the half-filled bath. Outside her bedroom door is a veranda with a day bed and three steps leading to their private pool. She inhales the humid air, with a hint of smoke, and releases it slowly, allowing herself to relax for the first time in days.

  Despite the wonderful distraction Bali brings, there are moments, between the massages, food, and shopping, that Zoe remembers Ethan and her heart quickens. She suppresses the thoughts as soon as they come, but the last day brings growing dread. She wishes she could stay, cocooned in the safety of Balinese life.

  She's by the pool with Lisa on their last day and almost tells her, but fear of her sister's disappointment holds her back. She's spent a lifetime in the shadow of Lisa's accomplishments and knows this will be one more failure to add to the pile. She's always yearned for her sister's admiration

  and knows this will not earn it. She swallows her words. She has to solve this herself and show everyone she's not the disappointment they all think she is. Lisa will only tell her parents, they will call the police, and then Ethan will post the video. She's certain he'll take her down with him if the police are involved. Instead, she talks to Lisa about everything except Ethan.

  That last night Zoe tosses and turns, wondering what her options are. Either she does what he wants, gets someone to take him out, or tells someone and endures the humiliation of her naked breasts over the Internet forever. She can probably take the humiliation, but how can she do this to her family? It's bound to affect her mum's business and her dad's promotion. She can't let them down like this; they've both worked so hard. And, although very tempting, she can't really get someone to kill him. Besides, he's probably shared the clip with one of his mates to post if anything happens to him. The only option is to go through with it. Let him have sex with her. How hard can it be? She shudders. It goes against everything she believes. She wants to save herself for the right man and make her first time special. She can't be just another notch in some arrogant teenage boy's bedpost, can she? Anger surges, and she wants to scream. It's not fair. What a jerk. Her lips press into a thin line. If she was really going to have sex with him, she'd make him wait until the very last minute. Let him sweat it out. A tiny part of her wishes he were struck by lightning before Thursday.

  Chapter Six

  Charli walks in the door of the Richter's home at five on Sunday afternoon,muscle sore and bone tired. Her five year old brother, Ash, launches at her just inside the door and grips her thighs with thin arms.

  'Did ya win?' he asks.

  She stoops to kiss his soft cheek and ruffle his blond hair. He detaches his limbs from her leg and bounces beside her. She's been at an athletics meet most of the day and is worn out, her cheeks burnt crimson by the hot Delany sun. She answers all his regular questions in a single stream.

  'Yes, we won, and yes, I won all my races, and, no, there's no ribbons, and, yes, I got a trophy.' She digs into her bag and hands him the trophy. He seizes it in a tiny fist and sprints down the corridor to the kitchen, bringing a smile to her face.

  'Mum, Mum, Charli won the trophy.'

  Charli enters the kitchen and inhales the aroma of Moroccan lamb. Her mother stirs a bubbling pot on the stove. She pushes a strand of blonde hair from her forehead with the back of her hand and smiles.

  'Congratulations. Good day?' she asks with a smile.

  Charli nods, slipping onto a kitchen stool. The Richter's kitchen is state-of-the-art with black granite bench tops, gleaming stainless steel appliances, and shiny
white cupboards. It's the hub of the house, where stories are told, meals are shared, and band-aids applied.

  'It was really hot,' she says.

  'I can see that; you're burnt,' Clare comments and frowns at Charli's red cheeks. 'Did you use sunscreen?'

  Charli rolls her eyes.

  'Yes, Mum. The sun up here gets through anything. It was super hot today, and they made us line up for our races without any shade.'

  'That's terrible. You'll have to put some Aloe on it after your shower. It will take the sting out of it.'

  'Yep, on to it.'

  It was the same conversation every time she was a little sunburnt. She knew the drill by now.

  Clare Richter fills a large glass from the fridge cooler and slides it across the bench top to Charli. It has ice floating on the top.

  'You look dry too,' Clare says.

  Charli shrugs and takes a large swallow. The cool water soothes her parched throat.

  Ash climbs onto the stool next to her. He turned five a few days earlier and is tall enough to get up now. Her parents tried for years to give Charli a brother or sister and had given up hope when Ash came along. While Charli has all her father's features, Ash is a miniature version of Clare: petite with blond hair and blue eyes. Most of the time Charli adores him, but sometimes he's just a pest.

  He starts to babble about going to the markets and for a swim, and Charli switches off, too tired to care.

  'I'm heading up for a shower,' she says. 'Still have some homework to do.'

  Ash hugs her arm before she leaves, and she kisses his head.

  Charli climbs the stairs to her second-floor bedroom and staggers into the ensuite after flicking on the air conditioner. She showers, wraps herself in her blue towel, and flops on the bed. She knows she has to finish homework, but she just wants to close her eyes for a minute. She opens them to a dark room and her mother calling her for dinner.

  'Coming.'

  She dresses and stumbles down the stairs, still groggy from sleep. Her stomach rumbles at the aromatic spices assailing the house. They share stories as they eat; her father's place sits empty long into the meal.

  'Dad at work?' Charli asks, already knowing the answer.

  Clare nods.

  'Should be home soon.'

  'Story of our lives,' Charli says.

  'Yep, political widows,' Clare responds, trying to make light of the situation.

  'Who's a widow?' Thomas Richter asks with a jangle of keys and wafting aftershave. He slides into his place with his usual smile. Thomas Richter is the Chief Minister of the Northern Territory.

  'We are Dad,' Ash says, and they all laugh.

  Everyone is always telling Charli how lucky she is to be in this family, but there are times she doesn't see it. She has a mother that fusses too much, a father who is never around, and an annoying little brother. What's so lucky about that?

  After dinner, Charli sits down to tackle her homework but is interrupted by a call from Ella, who is having a meltdown about Jake looking at another girl. Charli reassures her that he loves her, using the twenty minutes she's on the phone to scroll through her social media sites. There's a new friend request from Jael, the new guy from school. Her stomach flips as she accepts his request and wonders how he knows her name. Ethan Walsh is boasting about an awesome video he has to share on Thursday night at seven. Charli deletes the message; she is sure that nothing Ethan has to share will interest her. But it makes her think of Zoe, and she wonders if the video has something to do with her friend. When she hangs up the phone, a frown creases her brow.

  'What's going on Zoe?' she whispers, eager for her to return from Bali so she can ask her.

  Chapter Seven

  Zoe's heart races when she enters the school grounds on Tuesday morning. It reminds her of her first day of school when she was surrounded by a sea of kids, not knowing a single one of them. Her mother gripped her hand and told her to hurry or she'd make her late for work. She wanted to cry, but she held back her tears, not wanting to disappoint her mother. Lisa was skipping on the other side of mum, calling out to people she knew; she was excited to be back at school.

  'I'll take her the rest of the way,' she'd said. 'Don't be late.'

  'Thanks, Lisa; you're an angel.'

  With a swift kiss and hug, her mum disappeared, leaving a waft of vanilla and a faint wet spot on Zoe's cheek.

  Zoe's heart sank as she watched her go, and a single tear leaked from her eye.

  Lisa had taken up her hand and told her everything would be all right. She sounded just like mum, and Zoe remembers looking at her wide-eyed. She expected Lisa to leave her there and make her find her own way, but she helped her find her room and stood holding her hand until the teacher came and let them in. Before she left, she instructed her to stay in the classroom until she came for her in the afternoon, so they could go home together. It was then that Zoe realised Lisa loved her, and it made her heart sing. From that day forth, she vowed she would never give Lisa reason to doubt she was as good and strong as she was.

  Sorry to disappoint you. Lisa will hate her for humiliating their family like this. She keeps her eyes to the ground and scurries through the school like someone with a secret. Her heart stops at the sound of her name.

  'Hey, Zoe,' Harry says.

  She lifts her head, and he's in front of her with a goofy grin on his face and a twinkle in his eyes. His smile fades when their eyes meet.

  'Everything all right?' he asks.

  She opens her mouth, on the verge of letting her whole story spill out, when Ethan comes into her peripheral vision. Her body stiffens, and her mouth closes.

  'Yep, I'm good. Sorry, gotta go.'

  She hurries off, feeling his eyes on her, knowing she's hurting him. Sorry, Harry. She finds herself in the senior girls' bathroom, locks herself in a cubicle, and sits on the closed toilet seat. After half an hour, some girls come into the toilets. Zoe stays quiet. They talk about her and Ethan at the party.

  'Do you think they're going out now?'

  'They sure looked like it.'

  'Wasn't she going out with Harry?'

  'Yeah, but maybe they broke up.'

  'Do you reckon he's up for grabs now? Harry's hot.'

  Zoe feels a pang of jealousy. You can't have him; he's mine. But he isn't hers, and she has no claim to him now.

  'Well, she was better off with him. Ethan Walsh is bad news.'

  'Why?'

  'Well, you know Mia Collins, last year's house captain? Well, he was going out with her and…'

  The voices fade when the girls leave the bathroom.

  Zoe frowns, trying to remember what happened to Mia. She was in year eleven last year, but she hadn't seen her around this year. Did she leave? Did Ethan do something to her as well? Maybe she can ask around and see if anyone knows what happened. She unlocks her cubicle door and walks into the bathroom just as two other girls come in. They're in her year and the biggest gossips in the school.

  'Hey, Amanda, Kate,' Zoe says, forcing a light tone.

  'Hey, Zoe,' Amanda says. 'What's happening?'

  'Not much,' Zoe says.

  Amanda lifts a lock of platinum blonde hair and flips it out of her eyes.

  'Are you going out with Ethan Walsh now? I heard you hooked up with him on Saturday night,' Amanda asks.

  Kate jumps in.

  'We thought you might know something about the video he's posting on Thursday night. The whole school's talking about it. It's not some lame football movie, is it?'

  Blood whooshes in her ears, and her heart pounds.

  'No,' she says. 'I don't know what it is.'

  She almost runs from the bathroom and heads straight for the front gates. She walks a few blocks away from the school and catches a bus to the Northside Shopping Centre. She spends the day wandering the shops and arrives at her house just before Ella and Charli.

  Chapter Eight

  Charli presses her finger to the door buzzer for the third time.

>   'She's not home,' Ella says. 'I've got to go. I've got a salon appointment in twenty minutes.'

  'Okay. I'll try a bit longer. Catch ya tomorrow.'

  Ella hugs her friend good-bye and heads towards her car.

  Charli puts her finger on the buzzer and keeps it there for a full minute. When Zoe doesn't answer, she calls her mobile phone.

  Zoe flings the door open and glares at Charli.

  'What is your problem, Richter?'

  Charli strides in and faces her in the hall, ignoring the question.

  'What's going on with you? First you're sick for days, then you're away, and now you're skipping class and avoiding us? Spill.'

  'Nothing.'

  'Stop lying, Just tell me what's going on.'

  Zoe folds her arms across her chest, turns on her heel, and stomps back to her bedroom.

  'I don't have to tell you anything.'

  Charli follows. 'No, you don't, but we've been friends forever, and I'm worried about you. I want to help.'

  She lifts her eyes to Charli, heart thudding.

  'I want to tell you, but I can't. It'll make it worse.'

  'Well, what about if I guess, then that's not telling?'

  She shakes her head, and they slide to the tiled floor and sit cross-legged, facing one another.

  'It's got something to do with Harry and Ethan?'

  Zoe nods.

  'Harry?'

  She shakes her head.