The bird is fresh, not long dead; I’d nudged it with the tip of my shoe to make sure. For some reason the urge to cry swells in my throat as I stare at its tiny corpse. I glance around, searching for trees, power lines—anything it could’ve fallen from. The stretch of pavement I stand on remains bare overhead.

“What’s wrong, Evermore? You getting teary over a dead sparrow?” 

I roll my eyes as Tyson, my best friend and biggest pain in the arse, lumbers over.

“No.” My voice is clear and strong, and I’m grateful. He would tease me all day if he heard it crack. “I’m trying to figure out why it’s here.”

“Because it’s a dead bird? They’re everywhere.”

I point upwards and he, too, squints at the cloudless sky. “There’s nothing above us.”

He shrugs, adjusting the strap of his backpack across his expansive chest. “Maybe he had birdy cancer. Corked in mid-air.” He flaps his arms wildly, then pulls a face. I’m struggling to remember why I’m friends with this idiot when he turns serious. “For real though, why are you so worried?”

I chew my lip for a second. “I dreamt about a dead bird last night.”

“A sparrow?”

“I don't know, just a bird. It was black, the same as this guy.” Another shoe nudge. The shining feathers dimple for a second.

“’Their song might be brief, but how greedy would we be to ask for more?’” Tyson quips, and I raise my eyebrows at him. He rolls his eyes. “It’s from the book you lent me, dipshit. Read it again. So you had a dream about a dead bird, and now you’re getting the sads over one you found on the pavement.”

No. In the dream I’d watched the bird falling unnaturally from the sky, limp and lifeless. I’d woken with tears on my cheeks and my chest heaving. Finding the sparrow on my walk to school had stopped me in my tracks and made my stomach drop. 

Arms gather around me, picking me up. Tyson throws me over his shoulder and, showing off why he’s chosen for every current Narralong High sports team, begins the short jog to our school. 

“Put me down,” I say. His shoulder jabs into my stomach, but worse, he’s starting to cheer me up. He ignores me, like I knew he would. “Tyson!”

“She’s a witch!” he warns Molly Barnes and her posse as he trots past. I bounce on his back as I return Molly’s bemused wave. “A soothsayer! Seer of dead birds and prophet of destruction.”

Though my cheeks burns with embarrassment, I have to admit that one is pretty badass. 

By the time Tyson deposits me in front of my first class for the day, I’m struggling to hide a smile. 

“There. Feel better? By tonight the birdy will be gone.”

I twist my face as I imagine him scooping it up off the pavement. He guesses the reason for my expression.

“A cat will eat it or something, Evermore. Don’t be gross.” He turns to leave as the other students file into the classroom but pauses and tugs something from his backpack. “Almost forgot. Thought you’d need breakfast.”

It’s a lukewarm can of energy drink. I snatch it. “You legend – I totally forgot. I’ll buy next week?”

“You know it.” He salutes and walks backwards, bumping into other students. “Oops, sorry. Bye, Rose!”

“Idiot,” I mutter, but I’m grinning as I crack the tab on the can. We’ve been friends for too long. I slurp the sour soda as I cross the creaky threshold into my classroom.

“Welcome, everybody, welcome. Sit down; we’ve got a lot to get through today.” Mr Burgess hastily swigs from his stained mug of coffee. His collar sticks up on one side, and there’s a smear of shaving cream on his jaw. He shuffles a bundle of papers and glances at us. “Today we start our mid-semester career counselling.”

I settle into my favourite desk towards the back, the one coated in a buttery layer of sunshine every morning, but even that can’t cheer me up from the two words my teacher has just spouted. 

Career counselling... how could I have forgotten it’s today? I was all prepped to pull a sickie and everything.

Stupid dream about dead birds.

A sheet of paper is laid on my desk, appearing like a white slip of doom. A happy face is printed in the upper corner as though it can make planning your entire life at seventeen any more bearable. I trace it with the end of my pen. 

It makes it slightly more bearable. 

“You’ve got twenty minutes to fill out your papers, and then you’re to come up and make a one-on-one appointment time with myself or Ms Wesley.”

The chatter reluctantly ceases as everyone begins to read. I glance at the first line.

“When I grow up, I want to be...”

Inexplicably, I flash back to Tyson and I having this conversation when we were nine.

“A cat!” He’d proclaimed loudly, lying on his back and outlining an overhead cloud with a stubby finger. “They get the best stuff. Food whenever they want it, sleeping all day... Man, that’s the life.”

I imagine filling in my career counselling sheet with ‘a cat’ and can already hear Mr Burgess’ sigh of disappointment laced with a hint of ‘why do I do this?’

“Rose, you have to write something.” I realise too late that I haven’t imagined anything, and my teacher really is standing behind me. 

“I know, I just-”

Just what? This time, the demanding voice in my head belongs to my mother. I curl my fists.

“I haven’t thought about it,” I say finally. 

A disc of light flickers onto the wall as he checks his watch, and then he jerks his head to the door, “Why don’t we go have a chat? You can have the first appointment.”

The classroom is empty next door. Mr Burgess takes prime spot at the desk, and then pulls up a chair and gestures to it. I sit, placing my blank paper next to me.

“You haven’t thought about what you want to do when you finish high school?” he begins. “You know that’s the end of this year, right?”

The familiar grip of stress has settled me in its grasp. “I know. I’m well aware.”

“Do you want to go to university? Take a gap year maybe?”

I frown. “A gap year?”

He nods enthusiastically. “It’s a year off from studying. You can do anything, but most people travel. I enjoyed my time in the United States last year, I’d highly recommend it.”

America. The image of a bald eagle soaring over a canyon plants itself in my mind. Something lifts in my heart. “That could be cool.”

“Career-wise though, is there any path you’d like more information on? I know your mother works in the hospital; have you thought about following in her footsteps?”

I shake my head. “I don't like blood.” I’d seen her come home from emergency call-outs pale and wan, her eyes filled with what she’d seen. Last year, there’d been a pile-up on the National Highway just outside of Narralong; she came home a different person.

“You like reading. Video games,” Mr Burgess presses. “Anything related to those two spark your interest?”

So far, the only thing that had done so was the idea of leaving Narralong and traveling. I thought of returning here, attending our tiny university and getting a meaningless degree, then settling into the nine-to-five and marrying a local boy. 

That will probably be the next fifty years of my life. I huddle into my oversized coat. “No. I think our appointment is up, Mr B.”

He glances at the clock, then outside the window where the nine-thirty appointment hovers anxiously, concern scrawled across his freckled face. “Oops. You’re right, Miss Evermore. Off you go. Think on what we talked about.”

The unsupervised class yells and laughs, their sheets forgotten. I sit down at my cold, shady desk, realising too late that I’ve left my career counselling page in the other classroom.