![]() ![]() ![]() Claire’s mum said she could have been an even better swimmer than her brother, Cooper, who is two years younger. On a weekend not that long ago, someone mistook her for my babysitter. She’s bigger than most of the kids our age: taller, broader, but not pudgy. She’s got lovely olive skin and long, dirty-blonde hair that she always wears in naturally messy waves. We’re not as different as the sun and the moon, but we have fewer things in common than would be expected from two girls joined at the hip. Even when the local footy is on, hardly anyone comes all the way to the top.Ĭlaire and I are unlikely friends in more ways than one. She waves wildly from the bitumen below, and starts to walk up the steps of the grandstand towards the highest seats, where I’m sitting. We’re the mismatched sisters that neither of us has for real. My best friend Claire knows I go by Bertie she just likes to be contrary. ![]()
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