Free Magic or Madness by Justine Larbalestier

swim. Tried to get out of it when we were all doing our Bronze Medallions—”
    “What are they?”
    Tom looked at her, startled. “You know, lifesaving certificates? Jump in the deep end with all your clothes on and tread water for forever? Fake rescue someone?”
    Reason shook her head. “Never did any lifesaving.”
    “Really? I thought all schools taught it.”
    “We moved around a lot.”
    “But you can swim?”
    “Yeah. Of course!”
    “Right, then. So the French girl was trying to get out of it, but they made her have lessons. So we’re at the deep end pretending to drown and then saving each other, and she’s in the shallow end screaming her head off, sounding like she really needs to be saved.”
    “Did she learn?”
    “Yeah. But she’s pretty crap. Doesn’t like putting her head in the water. Worried about getting her hair wet or something. Almost there.” He stepped off the path, where three gravestones stood packed close together with no discernible graves in front of them.
    “So is this it?”
    Tom shook his head. “Not yet. Have to tell you the story first.”
    “Story?”
    “Have you read Great Expectations? ”
    “Nope. Never heard of it.”
    “It’s by an old English guy. Shakespeare, maybe? Whatever. I haven’t read it, saw the movie, but. There’s this old nutter, Miss Havisham. When she was young, she was going to be married, but on her wedding day the bloke never showed up. She was rich, so the whole house was decked out with flowers and there was this huge cake and stuff. And everyone was just sitting around waiting for him to show, but he never did.
    “She went into shock. Totally lost it. Never took off her wedding dress or let them clear away any of the wedding gear. Not the cake or the flowers or the food or anything. It crumbled and decayed, was covered in the thickest dust and cobwebs. Stayed like that till she was really, really old.”
    “Ugggh.” Reason shivered. “But that’s just a book, right?”
    Tom nodded. “But it was based on someone real. That’s it there.” He pointed to a marble cross under a small copse of trees. “At the bottom, that’s her. The real person Shakespeare based the book on. She lived right here in Sydney. That’s her father, James Donnithorne Esq., at the top with the big important lettering.”
    Reason crouched down. You had to get close to make out the smaller letters. She held her hair out of her eyes and read out loud, “‘Eliza Emily. Last surviving daughter of the above. Died 20th May 1886.’ Yet another loony lady,” she said. “Sydney’s full of them.”
    Tom crouched down beside her. “Yeah. Just like our mums. Except, you know, ours have better hygiene: my mum changes once a day, not once a century.”
    “Did she hurt you badly?” asked Reason. “When she tried to kill you?” She looked concerned, which made Tom squirm. He didn’t much enjoy people feeling sorry for him.
    “No, Dad got there first. She was waving a knife around saying that she’d kill us. She cut Cathy, but Dad reckons it was an accident. Cath’s got a scar on her shoulder, it’s tiny, but.”
    “Cathy’s your sister?”
    “Yeah.” Tom stood up, then Reason. “She’s studying at film school in America.”
    “Wow.”
    “Pretty cool, huh?”
    Reason nodded.
    “She’s studying at NYU. That’s New York University in New York City.”
    “Long way from home.”
    “When I finish high school, I’m going to go study there too,” Tom told her. “Or maybe London. Or Milan. I wanna study fashion. I’m going to make beautiful clothes for women and have my own label like Chanel or Balenciaga or Schiaparelli.”
    “Wow,” said Reason, sounding impressed, though Tom could tell she’d never heard of any of them.
    “Don’t worry. I’ll still make you normal clothes. I’ve already started on your cargo pants.” Reason looked blank. “The pants with all the pockets? You know? That you asked for?”
    “Oh, right,” Reason said. “Ta.