The Ghostly Grammar Boy

by Sandra Thompson

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It was like school camp, but tackier. Dusty, dented bunk beds, spider webs and a faint whiff of foot odour greeted us after the long drive to Batemans Bay on Friday night. Dad's friend Geoff wasn't exactly a home decorator. I'd dragged my friends away for the weekend, and we were staying in a shack.

  There was only one good thing that could be said about the slum that Dad had dumped us in. The threadbare carpets and rickety bed frames were not a setting that inspired romance. Hopefully that would put a damper on Megan and Jason's passion. I watched the two of them as they hit each other with pillows. They kept 'accidentally' falling against each other. It made me sick to my stomach. It wasn't a coincidence that both Megan and Jason had secured beds nearest the partitioning door between the boys' and girls' bedrooms. They thought they were so sneaky with their secret little relationship.

  Well, not on my watch.