TAMARA: Moving?

LEANNE: To Brisbane.

TAMARA: You’re moving to Brisbane?

LEANNE: Yes.

TAMARA: Sorry?

LEANNE: I should’ve…

TAMARA: You fucking bet you should’ve.

LEANNE: You can fly up. For holidays or/

TAMARA: What?

LEANNE: I’ll talk to your dad?

TAMARA: Holidays or what? Talk to Dad? How?

LEANNE: Tamara? Tam?

TAMARA: Leave me alone, you fucking cow.

LEANNE: Tamara.

TAMARA: Traffic moving quickly on the street if you walk fast and don’t look back won’t hear it—that shit she’s been spitting out for years. Thinking of all her lies piled on each other—the first time I remember knowing she is lying seeing her face as she swears to Dad we’d been shopping when I been sitting in the car out the front of Johan’s with a Diet Coke and a bag of Starburst to keep me quiet.

Put on iPod really fucking loud.

Music beating fast this track kills her that whining.

Bitch—want to smash something—bitch want this sound to blow that bitch.

TAMARA puts in her earphones. Stands there. It’s clear she doesn’t know what she should actually do. She walks.

DANE: They tried lots of things. To get me on track. Rick, this muscle guy with tatts’d come to school from a circus Mondays. We’d get taken out of class do handstands juggling cartwheels and shit. Used to all be there Monday for Rick. He was really fucking strong. He could lift me up onto his shoulders without even trying. And he took me aside and said I was good that if I could apply myself like I had in other ways I’d surprise myself. And ’cause I was coming to school again, they put me back on the team. Everything was ace.

He juggles.

Rick said to me that if my mind could be as strong as my body I would do anything I wanted, teachers saying to me that if I didn’t change the way I was doing things I’d end up… here.

When I get out of here… Things are gonna be different. Gonna put my mind to that.

Few things to get out of my system first. Things I been thinking about. Things I need to do. Give myself a week. Then…

TAMARA with a bundle of paper, then PETCHALL eating her morning tea.

PETCHALL: Voice outside the staffroom then:

TEACHER: Why are you up here during lunch?

TAMARA: Need to see Miss Petchall.

TEACHER: Helen, student here to see you.

TAMARA: Hi Helen.

PETCHALL: What’s that?

TAMARA: My story. The one I was telling you about.

You in shock, Miss?

PETCHALL: No. Pleased. Excited. Thrilled even.

TAMARA: Need to show you ’cause it’s better than the other one.

TAMARA looks at PETCHALL with intensity. Nearly smiles but doesn’t.

You’ll read it?

PETCHALL: Of course I will.

TAMARA: It’s a love story, Miss.