PETCHALL: I’ll type it up anyway.

And how are things with you?

TAMARA: What do you mean?

The bell rings.

PETCHALL: Not a trick question, Tamara. Just asking how things are.

TAMARA: Alright.

PETCHALL: Good. Are you going to go to the formal?

TAMARA: Dunno.

PETCHALL: You should. It’ll be fun.

TAMARA: Suppose.

PETCHALL: A slinky dress and a hot date.

TAMARA: Miss!

PETCHALL: It’s all the girls talk about, isn’t it? Their dresses and their hair and/

TAMARA: Miss?

PETCHALL: Yes Tamara.

TAMARA: It isn’t my best one. I have better stories than that. It was for a test and Tanya had her iPod on and it was shit ’cause it was wrecking my concentration… but I could bring them in. Other ones?

PETCHALL: Of course. I’d love to read them.

TAMARA: I want to write kids books. Mum used to read to me in bed.

PETCHALL: Being read to is wonderful, isn’t it?

TAMARA: Can I go now, Miss?

PETCHALL: But bring them in, the stories, don’t…

TAMARA goes.

A plane takes off.

Brittany Maycomb. Policeman’s daughter, laugh like a burglar alarm in the middle of the night. Got pregnant in Year Nine. Left to have the baby. Could’ve stayed but… Jade Walters. Crazy girl. Couldn’t stop her talking. Like something wound too tight. Then one day, Jade stopped smiling, started losing weight so fast she just faded. Faded out the school gate.

SQUID waits, wearing earphones. TAMARA sees him at a distance.

SQUID: There’s gonna be a fight.

TAMARA: Who?

SQUID: Thahn and Gary.

TAMARA: Thahn? That slaphead.

SQUID: Don’t call him that.

TAMARA: The chink then. Who’s Gary?

SQUID: Sped with the big ears.

Hi, I’m Gary, what you doing?

TAMARA: Why’re they fighting?

SQUID: Dunno.

TAMARA: Big deal—a chink and a sped. Who cares who wins.

SQUID: Gary’ll kill him, but. Spastics are strong.

TAMARA: I want a smoke.

SQUID: No time.

TAMARA: Easy for you—I just had double English.

SQUID: It’s Gary. It’ll be a laugh.

TAMARA: Don’t want to. Hate that shit.

SQUID: It’ll be sick. Film it, put it online. Come on.

TAMARA: No.

SQUID: Come on.

TAMARA: Stampede. Nothing like that the fuckin’ belting beat of three hundred kids bolting to see two smash each other up—watching it with the music full pelt phones filming it ready to upload.

SQUID: You filming?

TAMARA: Yeah.

SQUID: Chink hasn’t got a chance.

TAMARA: He ducks and runs away each time Gary gets close. Circle of kids moves in and there’s nowhere for him to run everyone screaming… leading the chanting…

SQUID/TAMARA: Gary Gary Gary Gary!

TAMARA: In the nose the nose the nose side of the head the guts.

SQUID: Ooohhh. Look at the blood. Fucking mad.