58 NOT A POP SONG

''Sorry, I'm late. I got held up.'' Mr Owen says as he barrels through the doors of the gym. Adelaide is so different on a Saturday. It's so peaceful; no chatter, no noise, no gossip, no Mariah. It's just you, your thoughts and the echo of your own voice.

''You always say that, Mr Owen.'' Gwen, a girl with thick-rimmed glasses points out. She's in a grade below me and has never missed a club meeting. Her dedication is admirable.

''This time I really got held up,'' he groans. ''My car had a minor accident.'' This amuses us all and he clears his throat as a signal for us to begin. In total, we are about twenty in the Music Club if my calculations are correct, but only ten of us showed up. I don't blame them. I'd ditch too but my resolve is always at the back of my mind.

Academics. Extracuricular. No boys/men.