Chapters (61)
- Cover
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Acknowledgements
- About the author
The boy had buried the bullet beside the last step going onto the hockey oval. Pieces of bitumen and blue-metal flakes clinging to his feet bit when his foot hit the stone of the step. He sat and scraped the blue metal from the soles of his feet. The stone was cold. He looked out across the hockey oval. The streetlight wasn’t running, wasn’t streaking. He decided he wouldn’t cry again. He knew he could do that now. His older brother cried when the house lamb was slaughtered last holiday, his older brother cried and couldn’t watch Dad cutting it up. The boy hadn’t cried, he had learnt not to cry because of pain. His father had looked at him and asked if he was okay. He had said, ‘I don’t have to cry anymore.’ His father said, ‘It’s okay to cry son,’ and he had answered, ‘Not if it’s pain.’ His father looked shy at that, like a weak second form boy. The boy had hated that and walked away, he didn’t turn even when his father called. Old men all smell the same.