Free Generation Next by Oli White

slightly dangerous kind of charm that attracted people to him. In fact it seemed to me that a fair few of the students at St. Joe’s actually wanted to be him, which I didn’t get at all.
    Word around school was that Hunter’s dad was some kind of big kahuna on the property market and owned about a third of the county. Now, I’m pretty sure that wasan exaggeration—but not a hundred percent sure. Plus I’d heard all sorts of talk about how lavish his home life was: a butler at the dinner table, au pairs who looked like Bond girls, two—or was it three—Ferraris in his dad’s garage, all of which Hunter was allowed to drive, an indoor and an outdoor pool. If you believed the school grapevine, Hunter’s life was a cross between Downton Abbey and MTV Cribs . Someone even said that his dad had converted one of their bedrooms into a dry ski slope, but as I said, this was all supposition rather than cold hard fact, and when you questioned anyone about who had actually seen evidence of this stuff, it all went a bit quiet. Whatever the case, we were all eager to find out just how sickeningly wealthy Hunter was, and exactly what the house of someone that sickeningly wealthy might look like, and at least he hadn’t given me any trouble in the last couple of weeks. Maybe it was going to be a bit of a laugh after all.
    “What’s this shindig in aid of anyway?” I asked Austin, who was sitting at the desk in my room, waiting for me to get ready.
    “I think it’s his birthday,” Austin said. “His mum and dad are on safari in South Africa and he’s taking over the entire gaff. As far as I know, he’s invited half the school.”
    “All right for some,” I said. “And we’ve definitely been invited? You’re sure about that?”
    “Look, Sai does most of Hunter’s homework, so we’re in,” Austin said.
    “Remind me why he does that again?”
    “For a small amount of money but mostly through fear of violent reprisal,” Austin said, laughing. “Whatever the reason, Sai got invited, which sort of means I’ve been invited, which sort of means you’ve been invited. Dude, this is the social event of the year and we need to be there. We don’t have to like the host, don’t stress. We’ll just walk in together like we’re meant to be there, and while we’re enjoying ourselves in a heated pool with hordes of hot girls, we’ll be dishing out the new business cards and spreading the word about GenNext. It’s a win-win.”
    “Oh is it now?” I said.
    Earlier in the week there had been a fairly heated debate regarding the pros and cons of the two of us turning up to Hunter’s party together. One line of reasoning was that we should because neither of us had a girlfriend and rocking up on our own might look lame and a bit sad. On the other hand, Austin had a bee in his bonnet about people thinking we might be a couple. I pointed out to him that if I had even the slightest interest in dating somebody of my own sex, the person in question would be a lot better-looking than he was. Then he got all sulky and I had to assure him that he wasn’t ugly and that he was sure to meet a hot girl at Hunter’s party whether we walked in together or not. Jeez, the pitfalls, etiquette and dos and don’ts of teenage life could be very complicated at times. I swiped through my wardrobe, trying to make a decision about what to wear: a crisp white shirt, or was it better not to look too try-hard and just go for a T-shirt? After all, it was a mildnight so a jacket wasn’t required. Maybe a polo shirt was a good halfway house. Yeah, that was the way to go.
    “Do you think some of those au pairs might be there?” Austin said, rubbing his hands together and staring at me, deadly serious.
    “What? Serving us beers in bikinis?” I laughed. “You wish, mate.”
    “You never know, do you?” he said. “Are you taking swim gear?”
    “Of course, it’s a pool party, isn’t it?”
    “And talking of beer,” Austin went on,