DANE: Guys hot for their bit of the night./ Find stuff there fast.

SQUID: Find stuff there fast.

DANE: That’s what I told you./ Stand in the laneway just up from Macca’s

SQUID: Stand in the laneway just up from Macca’s, right look on your face/ and you find it.

DANE: And you find it./ Easy.

SQUID: Easy.

DANE: Find it and BANG nothing matters/

SQUID: Find it and BANG nothing hurts/

DANE: Find it and/

SQUID/DANE: BANG nothing touches you nothing….

We see SQUID high on crystal meth.

A bell rings a little longer than usual.

TAMARA: Try and ring you Squid but your phone’s off all the time that Vodafone slut with her fucking obvious message tells me that over and over where are you?

PETCHALL: Questions you get asked/

TAMARA: Where have you been?

PETCHALL: Questions you ask yourself/

TAMARA: I’m sorry—you okay Squid?

PETCHALL: Questions nobody wants to ask/

TAMARA: Always a fucking/ Tuesday. Starts like any other.

PETCHALL: Tuesday. Starts like any other.

Get out of bed think today’s the day I start walking to work—I walk. Listen to the iPod. Brisk/ walk resolve to give it back, get my own one in the Christmas sales.

TAMARA: Walk up our lane see our tags on the old bag’s fence then…

TAMARA spots PETCHALL who is in her own world listening to her iPod and singing along.

Miss.

Miss!

TAMARA taps her on the shoulder, scares her.

What you listening to, Miss?

PETCHALL: Tamara. You scared the life out/

TAMARA: What is it?

TAMARA snatches the iPod and looks at the screen. Raises her eyebrows.

PETCHALL: I read your love story.

TAMARA: Yeah?

PETCHALL: The bit at the end.

TAMARA: Yeah, crappy, ay?

PETCHALL: It’s not. It’s beautiful. It all works out, but not like you expect/

TAMARA: But it doesn’t happen like that. Not really. Doesn’t.

TAMARA/PETCHALL: Period one.

TAMARA: Miss again—more Miss—more Outsiders—haircut gangs—no sign of you Squid then Miss says/

PETCHALL: Pens down, I’d like to stop a bit early.

TAMARA: Class groans, Miss rolls her eyes—looks at me.

PETCHALL: I’d like to ask Tamara if she’d read something. If she could share something she’s written with us all if/

TAMARA: Miss? What are you doing?

PETCHALL: I thought…

TAMARA: Not reading that to these speds not/

PETCHALL: And outside. It’s started. In the laneway/

TAMARA: Squid painting shit about me on the walls.

PETCHALL: Ladies in the front office see him through the window—tell him to stop—to move to class/

TAMARA: But then they see his face. Mouths drop at once at the look in his eyes/

PETCHALL: They ring the Deputy, the police, the drug team the/

TAMARA: Me sitting there not knowing what’s coming/