Free All These Perfect Strangers by Aoife Clifford Page A

asked Dale, when I tried explaining Toby’s theory of first year to him after the lecture had finished.
    â€˜Not exactly.’ I stretched out my arms and yawned.
    â€˜Any degree?’ And in that weird way that yawns are contagious, Dale tried to stifle one. He had an excuse, though. He was on early shift that week and so had already done a full day’s work.
    â€˜No,’ I admitted. ‘But he is doing first-year Accounting for the third time.’
    Dale laughed and began to pack up his books. ‘You can borrow my notes when you decide to start working.’
    I followed him out of the room into the corridor. Walking behind Dale, I could see the other students’ reaction to him. They ranged from pretending not to stare, to openly gawping, to deliberately avoiding or alternatively, walking past having loud conversations about ‘fascism’ and ‘agents of the state’. It never failed to surprise me that I had swapped from a world where police ran the show to one where they were almost reviled. Perhaps even stranger was that I felt a weird sympathy towards Dale, and I went out of my way to chat or take the always empty chair next to him. After all, I knew what it felt like to be excluded and besides, I figured I would really need his notes come exam time.
    In a sense, we were both outsiders from the usual privileged kids who made up most of Law School and that gave us enough in common to become friends. Also, he was different from the police from home. Country coppers. They had barely finished secondary school, let alone had law degrees. Arriving at our door, they refused to give Mum any information about why I was being taken down to the police station. I could guess but Mum had no idea and practically got arrested herself for obstructing the police. They shoved us into an interview room and left us there. But that all changed when my lawyer Bob turned up. He began to order them around, demanding answers, asserting my rights, starting the horse trading. He had power. That night I decided I wanted it too.
    â€˜Why are you studying law anyway?’ I asked Dale, as we sat down outside in the sunshine. ‘You’ve already got a job.’
    â€˜It’s because of my job that I’m doing it. Better chance of promotion if you’ve got a law degree. Do prosecution work. Join the Feds. Get off shift. See my kids more.’
    I had noticed the wedding ring on his finger but I hadn’t really thought about the possibilities of a Mrs Dale and lots of little Dales.
    â€˜You’re thinking I’m ancient,’ he laughed.
    I was but I lied. ‘No, I’m thinking how do you fit in study with all that other stuff?’
    â€˜You make the most of the time you’ve got. Take tonight, for example. My wife’s taking the kids to her cousin’s house so I’ve got a date with the library. I’ll stay there until closing. What are you up to?’
    â€˜Going to a movie with friends and then out after that, probably.’ Hopefully. My mind was already racing with possibilities of Rogan and me heading out to a nightclub together.
    There was a loud throb of an engine and an enormous motorbike drove up the street towards us. It slowed down as it went past, the leather-clad rider, black, squat and square like the bike. Dale’s uniform was a magnet and the biker turned his head in our direction, a blank stare from behind a visor as he raised his finger and gave us the bird, before revving his engine until the noise danced off every surface. Certain of our attention, he suddenly accelerated and took off down the street, leaving tyre marks on the road.
    Dale watched him go, then turned to me. ‘I reckon you borrowed the book he wanted out of short loan.’
    I gave a relieved laugh. ‘Yeah, he looks just like your average law student.’
    â€˜A Death Rider will have had more experience of the law than you’ve had hot dinners,’ said