Free When Michael Met Mina by Randa Abdel-Fattah Page A

activity going on at this moment.
    â€˜See,’ she says to us through clenched teeth. ‘Still think I’m making it up?’
    Adrian shrugs. ‘Isn’t it just easier to not think about it until he actually asks you out? What’s the point?’
    Cameron lets out a laugh. ‘Yeah right.’
    â€˜Or how about you just forget about him altogether?’ Paula tells Jane when the bell rings and we’re packing away our books.
    â€˜Why would I do that?’ Jane says. ‘I like him.’
    I can’t help myself. ‘For his personality ?’ I say incredulously.
    Jane rolls her eyes. ‘I know he picks on you both sometimes. And he’s been totally out of line with you, Mina.’
    â€˜Wow. But not with me?’ Paula says, eyes flashing.
    Jane thinks for a moment, searching for the right words. ‘Maybe if you just, you know, tone it down a little.’
    â€˜Sure. I can do that,’ Paula says. ‘I’ll stop being myself to make it easier for Terrence to resist acting like an arsehole.’
    â€˜I didn’t mean it that way.’
    â€˜Why do people always say that?’ I murmur.
    â€˜Huh?’
    â€˜Never mind.’
    â€˜It’s fine,’ Paula says. ‘Really. Congratulations on your taste in guys.’
    Jane, wounded, walks off slowly by herself.
    *
    It comes as a complete shock when Mr Morello pairs Michael and me for an assignment. We have to vox pop five strangers about how they define Australian culture.
    â€˜At least he’s cute,’ Paula whispers to me.
    â€˜Dark brooding eyes and a dimple can only get a person so far.’
    â€˜What? You’ve been keeping an inventory of his looks? That doesn’t sound like indifference to me.’
    I hit her playfully on the shoulder. ‘Morello’s leaning against his chair again. There’s muscle flexing. Lap it up.’
    Michael walks up to me after class. ‘So. Morello can do irony, hey?’
    â€˜Looks like it. So when do you want to do it?’
    â€˜Hey, Mina, steady now. You move fast!’ Terrence bursts out laughing.
    My face reddens.
    Michael growls at Terrence to shut up.
    â€˜Sorry, sorry,’ Terrence says, not maliciously, but insincerely. I’m still trying to figure him out. He’s part malevolent douchebag, part class clown.
    He walks off with Fred, still laughing.
    I’m too embarrassed and angry to hang around to talk to Michael about the assignment. I turn on my heels and walk out of the classroom.

Michael
    I find myself stealing glances Mina’s way in English, watching her laugh and chat with Paula or Cameron. I try to concentrate but my feelings are clumsy, like untied shoelaces I keep tripping over.
    I walk into the library and find her sitting near the window reading, her legs propped up on a chair in front of her. I approach her, nervous for some stupid reason. But not for a second am I going to show it.
    I slide into the seat across from her and put my bag down on the desk.
    â€˜Hey.’
    She eyes me warily.
    â€˜Sorry,’ I say.
    â€˜For what?’ she snaps.
    I don’t get her. I feel like giving her a Dummies’ Guide to Teenage Boys and informing her that:
a. Boys don’t apologise easily.
b. Girls are usually impressed when a boy apologises.
c. Ergo be impressed with me.
    She’s staring at me, waiting for me to respond.
    â€˜Well, I’m sorry for what I said in our first class, but you’ve already rejected that apology. And I guess I’m sorry for the fight . . . but I’m not sure why really, seeing as you had nothing to do with it. But still you’re making me feel guilty for some strange reason, so that’s another apology you can reject. And I’m sorry for Terrence, which you have also managed to throw back in my face.’
    â€˜I don’t get you,’ is her response.
    â€˜Huh?’
    â€˜One minute you’re reject the refugees ! The