In 1992 I arrived for year 9 as a scholarship kid at a boarding school in the Victorian Alps. I was from Canberra and knew no one. Boring suburbia was replaced by a bush shed shared with 14 girls. We had to chop wood for warmth and hot showers, and spent weekends hiking and skiing. I got tougher, explored my limits (a half marathon and six-day hike by the end of the year) and made lifelong friends.
One of them was Guy. He was in my French class, our desks separated by half the alphabet. A regular in my diary list of “top five boys”, he was witty, genuine and playful. We played pranks and games – table rugby, footsies, hid and stole each other’s stuff – and sent ridiculous notes at supper. Whatever we did, there was laughter.
