Meeting over—handsome student teacher smiles—follows me—runs his hands through his long dark hair, holds out an iPod tells me he confiscated it and forgot to give it back… I’ll take it, I say and he hands over the orange iPod, I have the iPod in my hand. I’ll return it then shall I? I’ll…

PETCHALL puts the earphones into her ears. She stops and listens to the iPod.

A plane.

TAMARA: Fucking Tuesday again.

Laurence doesn’t surface his door shut as tight as his mouth.

No note on the table saying have a good day saying have an okay day saying have any kind of fucking day at all.

Kitchen smells like garbage—fuck knows how since there’s nothing to make garbage with.

No milk no juice no cereal no bread no butter no leftovers ’cause we had nothing last night.

Nothing inside but half a shrivelled lemon, I want a fuckin’ feed.

Cragged-up old faggot. Hate him.

What chance he give me?

A bell.

LEANNE waits at the gate.

TAMARA: She’s there at the gate where Squid should be. Standing there lipstick matching her bag enough to scare anyone away—sure Squid saw her and ran—what does she want? Maybe Virgin found out what she’s like and sacked her—maybe she dumped her second chance kids kept the money from Johan and went and filled up the Prius with things for me to eat maybe shit doesn’t come out your arse…

She stinks of something fake.

What do you want?

LEANNE: Nice way to greet your mum.

I sent you two messages today, Tamara.

TAMARA: Which’ll make up for what exactly? Didn’t get ’em.

LEANNE: Give me a kiss.

TAMARA: Mum!

LEANNE: I need to tell you something.

TAMARA: What?

LEANNE: Shall we go to a coffee shop?

TAMARA: Round here? Where do you reckon we are?

LEANNE: There must be somewhere.

TAMARA: You bring that Dettol stuff you use on your hands before you eat? There’s not and I can’t/

LEANNE: Why?

TAMARA: Gotta be in class. School Certificate coming. Want me to fail?

LEANNE: Of course not, Tammy.

TAMARA: Don’t call me that.

LEANNE: I just/

TAMARA: What do you want to tell me? You changed your mind and suddenly care?

LEANNE: I’d like to talk to you.

LEANNE/TAMARA: sms.

TAMARA: Phones in our hands and they both look the same—I have her hands. That’s too much. I gotta…

They both look at their messages.

SQUID: in the park babe wassup? bring us a smoke

TAMARA: I gotta go—maybe talk on the weekend.

LEANNE: We won’t be able to, Tamara. I should’ve said something to you before.

TAMARA: What?

LEANNE: We’ve all been so busy. No excuse really/

TAMARA: Next week.

LEANNE: But… Johan and the girls and I/

TAMARA: Dickhead and the spoilt brats. What about them?

LEANNE: We’re moving.