Authors: Scot Gardner
‘Where
have
you
been?’
I
puffed
harder
than
I
needed
to.
‘Oh.
Sor
r
y
mate.
Had to
finish
my
tea.’
Puff
puff.
T
o
anyone
else
that
would
sound
like
a
limp
excuse
but to
Den
it
was
oka
y
.
He
and
his
family
have
tea
together eve
r
y
night.
At
the
table.
They
don
’
t
have
a
telly
in
the house.
‘C’mon,’
he
said,
‘let
’
s
go
to
the
libra
r
y
.’
‘I
thought
we
were
going
to
have
a
game?’
‘Maybe
late
r
.’
Griz
and
his
mate
Otto
were
standing
in
the
glare
of
the
T
e
r
minator
screen
making
short
work
of the animated terrorists
popping
up
from
behind
the
boxes
and
cars.
Gri
z
i
s
younge
r
tha
n
De
n
an
d
m
e
bu
t
he
’
s
a
freak
.
He
’
s
bigge
r
tha
n
m
y
dad
.
An
d
mor
e
hai
r
y
.
H
e
smell
s
like Lincoln
’
s
Se
r
vic
e
Statio
n
mixe
d
wit
h
a
month-ol
d
ashtra
y
. I
bumpe
d
int
o
Ott
o
a
s
I
backe
d
awa
y
fro
m
th
e
machine.
H
e
shove
d
m
e
an
d
tol
d
m
e
t
o
watc
h
it
.
I
apologised
.
Otto i
s
a
bul
l
terrie
r
.
H
e
mus
t
b
e
twent
y
bu
t
h
e
look
s
younger
tha
n
Dennis
.
Wisp
s
o
f
hai
r
stretc
h
dow
n
th
e
sid
e
o
f
his face
.
A
patc
h
o
f
blon
d
fluf
f
stick
s
ou
t
fro
m
hi
s
chi
n
and hi
s
moustach
e
look
s
lik
e
velve
t
i
f
yo
u
ge
t
clos
e
t
o
him
.
He wear
s
a
Saint
s
beani
e
pulle
d
dow
n
s
o
i
t
hal
f
cover
s
his eyes
.
Make
s
hi
m
loo
k
eve
n
younge
r
an
d
dimme
r
tha
n
he is
.
I
thin
k
h
e
goe
s
t
o
th
e
gy
m
becaus
e
hi
s
arm
s
ar
e
th
e
size o
f
Den
’
s
thigh
s
an
d
covere
d
i
n
tattoos
.
He
’
s
los
t
his licenc
e
twic
e
alread
y
fo
r
drivin
g
lik
e
a
n
idiot.
‘Why
don
’
t
we
wait
until
they’re
finished?’
‘Nah.
Come
on.
W
e’ll
come
back
late
r
,’
Den
said
and jumped
up
to
sit
on
the
handlebar
of
my
bike.
He
flicked the
butt
of
his
cigarette
at
the
rubbish
bin
and
jiggled
so
I
had
to
move
to
keep
balance.
Den
’
s sister
Ker
r
y
was
at
the
libra
r
y with Carly
and Rebecca.
They’re
all
a
year
younger
than
Dennis
and
me.
Carly
’
s
a
redhead
with
big
boobs
and
Rebecca
is
sort
of weird
and
black
like
Dennis.
She
reminds
me
of
Morticia from
The
Addams
Family
.
Dennis
could
be
Gomez
and
kiss
her
up
and
down
the
arms
and
stuff
except
he
doesn
’
t
seem
to
be
interested
in
girls
like
that.
W
e
chatted
for
a while
then
Ker
r
y
started
talking
about
periods
and
tampons
like
she
does
when
she
wants
us
to
gross
out
and
nick
off.
It
works—she
started
using
that
tactic before
she
had
her
first
period.
God,
I
remember
that,
Ker
r
y
walking
like a
cowboy
and
explaining
to
eve
r
yone
who
had
to
stop
for
a
minute
all
the little
details
of
her
first
bleed.
Den
threatened
to
get
a
T
-shirt
printed
with
a
big
tampon
on
it
that read
‘I
am
menstruating—come
ask
me
how’.
She
takes no
notice
of
his
sick
jokes.
Den
seemed
a
lot
more
relaxed
when
we
got
back to Game
Zone.
Dennis
and
I
go
there
wheneve
r
.
What
I
really
wanted
to
say
was that
Game Zone
is
our
‘home
away
from
home’.
It
’
s
our
place
and
Griz
might
have
been
in
our
bedroom
when
he
was
playing
T
e
r
minator
. I
tore open
the
V
elcro
on
my
wallet
and
gave
him
a
five
-dollar
note.
He
chatted
with
Maru
for
a
few
minutes
and
came
back
with
a
handful
of
coins.
I
ha
d a
sens
e
tha
t
w
e
wer
e
i
n
troubl
e
befor
e
it
happened—not
just
danger
but
real
trouble. It
’
s weird how
that
feeling
can
take
hold
of
me
sometimes.
Den
and
I
both
emptied
our
chambers
on
the
same shot
and
in the
split
second
it takes
us
to
reload,
the terrorists
were
on
to
us.
Four
of
them
with
SA-80
’
s
showering
the
ground
at
our
feet.
I
was
hit.
Eve
r
ything
went
red and two
seconds
later
Den
was
on
the
ground
beside
me, billowing
cyber
blood.
It
was
the
shortest
life
I
have
ever
lived
and
I
couldn
’
t believe
I
was
dead.
Den
cursed
and reached
fo
r
ward
to
file
more
coins
in
the
slot.
A
huge
greasy
hand
slapped
across
the
console.
The
large
skull ring
made
a
sound
like
a
gunshot
as
it
struck
the
coin
slot.
‘Game
ove
r
,
boys,’
Griz
said
with
a
yellow-toothed
grin.
M
y
fac
e
flushe
d
an
d
m
y
ski
n
prickled
.
De
n
looked
over
at
Maru
then
at
me.
‘
W
e’re
just
going
to
have
one
more game,
then
we’ll
leave
you
to
it,’
he
said.
For
a
second
there
was
a
tiger
in
Griz
’
s
head.
‘Come
on
Dennis,
we’ll
come
back
late
r
,’
I
mumbled. Griz
lifted
his
hand
from
the
slot
and
smiled.
‘Oka
y
.’
He
backed
away
from
the
machine
and
Den
sent
the
coins rattling down
the
slot.
I
wanted
to
run.
I
didn
’
t want
to
play
another
stupid
game
but
I
wasn
’
t
going
to
pike
out.
De
n
looke
d
ove
r
,
hi
s
eye
s
dar
k
lik
e
se
a
caves
,
and
motioned
for
me
to
join
him.
I
grabbed
the
gun
and
shot the
‘
T
wo
Player’
selection then
the
icon
for
the
part
where we
start
called
‘Dockside’.
W
e
were
in
that
void
between
‘press
to
start’
and
the
first
actual
shot
when
I
heard
Griz whispe
r
,
‘Now!’
Otto grabbed
me
around
the
waist
and
hoisted
me from
the
front
of
the
console.
I
was
ready
to
run
so
I
let
the
gun
go
and
did.
Griz
had
Dennis
under
the
arms
and was
holding
him
off
the
ground
and
shaking
him.
Dennis let
go
of
the
gun
and
kicked
back
at
Griz.
The
heel
of
his boot
connected
with
Griz
’
s
zippe
r
.
Bent
him
in
half.
He dropped Den
roughly
on
his
feet
and
grabbed
for the gun.
A kick
in
the
nuts
couldn
’
t
stop
him
from
collecting
a
free
game.
He
reached
out
a
gorilla-arm
and
slapped Den
on
the
side
of
the
head.
Den
’
s
hair
shot
straight
up and
he
bucked
away
from
the
blo
w
.
‘
W
e’ll
just
have
this
game
and
then
you
guys
can
have it,
okay?’
Griz
chuckled.
When
Den
saw
Griz
’
s
bike
lying
like
it
had
been
abandoned
on
the
footpath
outside, he
sniffed
back
a
ball
of snot
and
then
spat
it
on
the
seat.
Then
he
lunged
onto
the
front
of
my
bike
and
I
rode
like
wildfire
down
Garrison Street
to Fairleigh.
It wasn
’
t
until we’d
cut
across the libra
r
y
lawn
that
I
slowed
down.
‘I
thought
he
was
going
to
have
a
go
at
you,’
I
panted.
Den
laughed.
‘Good
shot,
huh?’
‘Why
didn
’
t
you
run?’
He
shrugged.
‘The
bloke
’
s
a
full-time
wanke
r
.’
•
W
e
pulled
into
the
driveway
and
found
Den
’
s
dad
Bar
r
y mowing
the
lawn
by
streetlight.
‘Hey
fellas.
How
are
you
going?’
De
n
an
d
I
chime
d
tha
t
thing
s
wer
e
good
,
which
stretched
the
truth
a
bit
but
wasn
’
t
an
outright lie.
Bar
r
y was dressed
in a
purple
sarong
flecked
with
gold
that danced
in
the
streetlight.
His
bare
feet
were
covered
in damp
grass
clippings
and
he
walked
over
to
shake
my hand,
as
he
does.
He
smelled
sweat
y
,
fresh
and
green.
He went back
to
work
with
the
musical
ratchet
of
the
push–
pull
mower
and
that
silly
little
Beatles’
song
he
whistles.
I can
’
t
remember
the
song
but
it
’
s
always
the
same
one.