Monday, October 18, 2010

41.
.
Ok. Dragging myself out of the blogging closet. I have to admit, it's almost as painful as forcing myself to work out... I gave that up too.
.
Still no improvement on my shoulder and back. Not that I was hoping for it, just thought I'd inform for those of who still think "better" is an option.
Instead of "better", replace it with "more morphine" and you're on the right track.
.
Still no word from Great Southern Productions on my pitch, but I figure no news is good news. The fact that they liked it enough to consider it is good enough for me... At the moment.
In the meantime I continue to keep visualising the moment they tell me YES, and keep reading my positive affirmations that I have up around the house.
"You WILL
Get a YES
to produce Dark Valley,
and it
will be GREAT!!!"
And I haven't even read The Secret!
.
I did myself a tarot reading yesterday. It was the first one I'd done for myself in years, and it was quite affirming also! My fingers are still firmly crossed.
.
My friend asked me recently:
"Why are you in Carterton again?"
I didn't have an answer for her immediately - I have been wondering that myself alot recently.
But in the end I realised that I'm here because I'd rather be independant in the country than reliant in the city.
.
I do miss my friends though. Especially when they are going through rough times and I can't be immediately there for them...
I am thinking of you (all).
I miss my brother from another mother in Switzerland, Cristo.
I miss my sister from another mother Tara and can't wait to meet her new daughter...
I miss all my cheeky darkies - Lee, Spence, Tara and Lili.
I miss my cousin Renata.
I miss my ginger Gemma.
I miss my big gay Brendan.
I miss Wendy, and Amir.
I miss Rewa.
I miss all my flatmates and my daily interactions with them.
Hell, I miss fuckin everyone, even people I haven't seen since primary school.
I'm a big softie at heart really.
.
I really don't have much else to say today.
Except that it's sunny outside so I might go bask in it.
.

Thursday, September 23, 2010

40.
.
What a shame this is going to be such a lame 40th entry, such a non-celebration. I guess that's how turning 40 can be too...
.
I haven’t written in a while.
My back has entered a new stage of deterioration whereby I now get crushed nerve-induced migraines and neck pains, and my shoulder has started to curl in on itself. My shoulder blade keeps getting randomly caught in between my ribs and temporarily causes me to drop to the floor in pain winded like someone has just stabbed me in the back.
This, of course, draws some interesting looks from whoever is around me at the time. Especially as said pain, though completely random and unexpected, only lasts for a few seconds - til I wince my shoulder out of the place it’s stuck in, and then I’m “fine” again. Until it decides to knock me down again a minute or two later when I reach for a cup, or turn on the light, or move my right arm in any direction whatsoever…
Except I’m not fine. I’m kind of terrified. If my body has started down this kind of road already, then what wonders can I look forward to in the future? Especially if left untreated because, and I have to be honest with myself about this, it IS going to be left untreated. The doctors and specialists and operations and hospitals and waiting rooms and the so-many-x-rays-I-must-be-Nuclear-by-now that have filled my almost-33 years of life have taught me… nay, they have sat me down and TOLD me, that there is nothing for me down that road. There is no surgery, there are no options. But on the plus side, they keep telling me I’m not getting worse…. Ummm, yeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaah, but… unless you’re living in this body, then you can’t be the judge of that, are you living in this body, NOOOOOOOO??? WELL THEN SHUT THE FUCK UP AND FUCK OFF THEN.
My family is no help. My mother is too busy stuck on the fact that I smoke weed and am therefore lazy. Comments like “Well, after the way You turned out…” when she’s referring to the way my (much) younger sister is being raised slash turning out… This would be Funny IF she was joking.
My mother is my best friend and my worst enemy. She recently said, during a conversation about my sister being confined to her room to finish her haven’t-started-til-the-last-minute-assignment, “I should have been stricter on You.” I wanted to say to her “Yeah, Newsflash: Strictness and Discipline were NOT where you went wrong with Me, Mother,” but the truth of the matter is that my mother has her head blissfully stuck in the sand, and I have learnt enough times that even though I can pull her head out of the sand and give it a good hard shake and force her to look at the cold harsh world around her, the world that She Put On ME (this is obviously a more personal, metaphorical world I’m talking about, Not the world at large), and she KNOWS it’s there, she’s not stupid… As many times as I can do that to her, she has always retreated back to her sandy bliss-hole, and absolved herself of responsibility for it.
ANYway, the point is my Mother confuses crippling back pain for melodramatics and laziness. Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, she’s getting old. Hell, I’M getting old (I’m only 18 years behind her – in many ways we grew up together really). And when you start to see your mother heading for Old Lady-dom, you start to weigh up what arguments are actually worth having and which aren’t.
Personally, as much as she doesn’t really deserve it, I should probably be a nice son and make her golden years less about the painful fuck-ups of the past and more about the time she’s got left. Not that she’s on deaths door or anything… But I think you start to feel REALLY Mortal in your 30’s, and when YOU start feeling mortal and time rushing by, you KNOW it must feel like gale force winds to your parents, let alone your Grandparents, for whom time must be ticking by like a bomb clock….
So yeah. My family is useless, but I’m not going to argue for change about it. I guess is the moral of that story.
So, just a quick re-cap:
Pain. Lots of it.
All motivation for writing has gone out the window.
May the force be the with you.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

39.
.
The tree at the end of my street is blossoming again. It changes the view something chronic. A smattering of colour on an otherwise grey and green palette.


Which still remains even after the clouds roll in and the light fades...


Hey watch this, now you see it...

Now you don't...

I quite like the pattern of moss on gravel...
It reminds me clouds in the sky.





I like this weird, flat and square tree too.
It's way less 3D than it seems, and is only about ten centimetres in width, tops.
And then we reach the corner...

and see the full glory of the blossom tree up close.

...it makes for a smooth transition from home out into the world.
(*nb. No, I don't consider walking into Carterton going out into the world.)

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

38.
.

I have been thinking about babies lately.
I have been very lucky to have had lots of babies pass through my life. I really do love kids at that age, when they’re just babies, or before they get to about two. After that it’s pretty much all downhill… no, I’m kidding, I love kids. I think I’m getting clucky… Uh oh.
I’m also really buzzed out by all the amazing names the children of my friends have been given. My friends have all done really well at choosing cool and unusual names for their kids – no Steve’s or Barry’s in that lot. Thank god. Who would call a kid Bruce anyway? The poor kid would have to hang his head in shame (Thanks Rubicon… UGH).
I think the plainest name one of my friends kids have gotten is probably Benjamin, but Benjamin is a nice name, plus he was named after another Benjamin so that’s different.
But seriously. The names of my friends children are really, REALLY cool. I love them.
The kids themselves are alright too.
There’s Amir, who came around the same time as Griffin I think.
Narn Blue, and his brother Felix.
Novee and her brother Miro.
The beautiful miss Magnolia Wilde.
There’s Phoenix, Kea, Isabella, and Violet.
Silas, Oscar, Elsie.
Artemis and Hine.
Karma and Shadow.
Oh, and Xander, and Hayze…
Caleb and Jack deserve a mention.
But the winner of most unique and crazy name would have to go to the son of my ex. His name was Mirth Puzzle Starfish.
That’s MISTER Starfish to you… Yes, that’s Actually his last name, even though it isn’t the last name of his mother or father. It’s just the last name they decided to bestow upon him because APPARENTLY you don’t HAVE to name children after you, you can just… slap any old label on them. Well, any label except Doctor – that one they gotta earn later. I guess that way it’s harder for them to track parents down if they get into trouble at school…
To be fair, his mother’s last name is Waghorn, so it was lose-lose either way I guess. God knows why dad didn’t give him his last name of Bryce…
And let’s not forget the new and gorgeous Luisa Iris. I hope I get to meet her before she starts talking…
.
No entries in three weeks. It has been weighing on my mind, although when I have tried over the last few weeks I’ve found that I haven’t had much going on around me to write about – or if I have had it going, I haven’t wanted to write about it publicly.
Let’s just say that having a houseguest for a while (a month, give or take) reminds me of why I wanted to live alone in the first place. Not that I don’t love company… It’s just that my house is too small for two large personalities.
But boy oh boy do I want to rant and rave on this one. It’s just that I have done this via text to others so it’s not so… Out There.
I am glad to have my house back, that’s for sure.
.
What I have discovered to write about, is a show called ‘Real Sex’. It’s on late at night on Comedy Central, and it’s… Bizarre. A nineties HBO series, that is a mix of snippets of interviews of random people on the streets (usually the streets of New York) and documentary style studies of people who work, and or indulge, in all aspects of the adult entertainment industry. It’s presented in a very down-to-earth way, but usually what the people are doing is semi out-there. It’s a very peculiar mix.
.
Ok. My life is empty right now.
I have been staving off sickness, but I drank quite well last week, so now my throat is scratchy and my nose is slightly runny and I have run out of honey for my lemon and honey’s, so I better go get some.
End Report.
.

Friday, July 23, 2010

37.
.
This week I escaped the hood for the bright lights of the big city.
Unfortunately I realised slash remembered that I’m not incredibly gifted at being able to cram lots of socialising into short periods.
I have an emotional overload threshold, and when that reaches its limits, I’m out.
You can talk til the cows come home. And you may even think I’m listening. But inside I am dead. My eyes have glazed over. And I’m delivering obligatory “Uh huh”’s, and “Mmm”’s, and I’m not even being sincere in their delivery…
Basically, I just switch off. Please leave a message, BEEEEEEEEEEEP.
Chances are I probably won’t check that message either.

No pictures this week folks. What I have to say doesn't need them.
*
COMMUNING WITH THE DEAD:
Yesterday I had an old woman come into my work. I recognised her as the doddery old woman I’d had to chase down the street one day as she’d forgotten to pay for her lunch. Trust me, this was Not an enjoyable experience, especially as she was having to hand me over every last coin she seemed to have on her, and even THEN I let her off a few dollars simply because I wanted to end the fleecing of the old woman.
ANYWAY, the same old woman came in again, and had a look at the lunch menu, and ooh’d and aaah’d over a few items, and decided on some “Nat-cho’s?”, before saying “I think I’ve got enough money for that” before studiously counting out eight dollars in coins and informing me that she was to get 50 cents change…
I smiled nicely and told her she was correct, and gave her the change, and thought to myself ‘Most people, DEAR, would check FIRST that they had enough money to go out for lunch before going out to lunch’. And I then inwardly scolded myself for being so intolerant of doddery old woman, steeled my reserve a bit more, and showed her to a table by the fire.
She then whipped out an eftpos card and ordered a double whiskey.
I often wonder at times like those if I should question the customer on things like “Are you allowed to be drinking?” or “You’re not taking any medications that alcohol might impair are you?”, but I recognise that questions like that shouldn’t be reserved for doddery old woman alone, and if it was good enough for her it was good enough for everyone, and seeing as it is actually Totally Inappropriate of me to ask those questions to ANY customer, I silently poured her a whiskey, straight up. She tipped that back like nobody’s business, and then continued to stare at me and stand at the bar.
I asked if she would like anything else, and she said “Aren’t I getting my lunch?”
“Yeah, but it’s not actually ready yet. I’ll bring it over to you when it is.”
“Does it take forever to make or something?”
At that point the meal bell rang and I said “Actually, it’s ready now, take a seat,” and brought it over to her and told myself again that I had to be more tolerant of doddery old woman.
This isn’t hard to do, as I have a Grandfather will Alzheimers, so I’ve recognised that my tolerance needs to increase greatly in my many areas of INtolerance.
So she sat down and ate her lunch… and promptly proceeded to fall asleep at her table.
I had been busy while she ate, so when I looked over and saw her asleep I was kind of surprised. When did that happen? Damn, now I have to wake her up.
Instead of going over to her though, I just made some gentle clinking noises with the glasses in the dishwasher, hoping that would stir her.
It did, and she slowly sat up, seemingly waking up, and then started to leave.
“Thank you, that was lovely.” She said.
“You’re very welcome.”
“My husband and I used to come in here…” she said.
‘Oh great, here we go’, I thought heartlessly.
“…but… he died, so... I like coming in here… it has some good memories... Thank you.” And off she wandered in her whiskey haze...
As I watched her leave I realised she hadn’t been sleeping at all. She had merely been communing with her dead husband…
I reminded myself that next time she comes in, I must be more tolerant.
*
BRIGHT CITY LIGHTS:
I saw a few bright lights while in Wellington.
Light Number One: I am Not FRIENDS with My Ex. I simply have a long standing dependency on their company – 99% of the reason I left Welly. To break myself free of the habit of them.
Stupidly, I dropped into their house on the way home from a party one night. Thankfully I dragged two REAL friends of mine along for the ride (it was on our way).
I was instantly surprised by, and introduced to, the Ex’s new boyfriend. Their new, very young boyfriend. Cough cough Shudder.
BRIGHT SHINING LIGHTS of realisation shone upon me. Oh yeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaah… THAAAAAT’S why I need to stay away from this house!
I was very nice, very polite, stayed for a drink, left… and vowed never to go back.
And I felt Ok about this too! I think the spell had finally broken. No, not I think… I Know.
Unfortunately I had to go back the next day and get something I’d left behind, but I made it short and sweet.
My defining thought on this matter was that IF we really were Just Mates, then why did they feel the need to Not Tell Me about their new beau? Especially considering as they’d told all their other mates... hmm?
Whatever. It really doesn’t bother me that much. It was like a wonderful haze lifting and flooding me with warm, FREEING light.
And Boy do I like sunning in it.
Light number Two involved an unhinged friend on an unwarranted frenetic character attack, but I won’t go into that. It was ridiculous and ultimately kind of boring. Plus, I have bigger fish to fry…
*
THE GREAT CARTERTON KIDNAPPING CAPER:
This is an issue close to my heart… hence, I will probably end up being quite heartless about what I’m about to say.
Back in April my niece (my cousins’ daughter) on her way home from school, was approached by a teenager in school uniform in a car telling her “Your Mum’s in trouble, you have to come with me”.
She, being Not Stupid (thank god), said No Way and ran home to her perfectly Not-In-Trouble Mother to tell her all about the guy who’d tried to kidnap her.
This was one in a spate of attempted child abductions in the area at the time. They arrested another man in Masterton for the same thing, and for a while we thought that maybe the case was closed…
Until a couple of weeks ago, when a 14 year old girl on her way to school was suddenly pushed into a car and abducted. The girl screamed at him to let her go, before throwing herself from the vehicle, breaking her wrist and splitting her forehead open in the process.
Yesterday I had the good fortune to meet the guy who happened to be driving behind the car when this happened. At first he thought it was just some arsehole who’d thrown his Mrs from the car, but when the girl told him that she’d just been kidnapped he took her to the police station.
Not long afterwards a friend of mine happened to be walking down that street, and came across a phone and a wallet, which she handed into the police station.
The phone was the girls. The WALLET was His.
Connect the dots and Wa La – Psycho gets caught.
Then the real questions started being asked, and of course in a town like this, everyone knew who this kid was within two days. And rather than the expected “KILL HIM” response, it turns out this kid is from a good home, had a good upbringing, has good, respected parents… Suddenly the humanising factor hits home. This kid is clearly sick in the head and needs help.
Two weeks ago he was sent to Rimutaka Prison on remand, pending a psychological assessment. This assessment was deliberately avoided and on Wednesday this sick kid who is getting no help whatsoever has been sent back home on bail with a 24 hour curfew – ie. he can’t leave the house.
The Mad Scorpion is NOT happy about this.
Yes, I can understand that he will be slaughtered in Prison, and that perhaps isn’t going to achieve much.
Yes, I can understand that he is sick and needs help.
But No, I cannot understand why the Law has failed the victims of this case in favour of making sure this sick kid is… what, Safe and Comfortable?? That same right has not been afforded to this kid’s victims, some of whom live not far down the road from him…
I am utterly FURIOUS about this, and I know that if my cousin was in the country at the moment, this kids’ safe house would probably go up in flames in the middle of the night. And not many people would blink an eyelid either.
I don’t think they should lock this kid in jail and throw away the key, but I do think he needs serious help, and being babysat by Mum and Dad at home is hardly the answer.
Is one of them going to stay awake 24/7 to keep an eye on him, or are they going to take 12 hour shifts…
Somehow I doubt it.
As do I doubt that there is constant police surveillance on their house either.

This kid has messed with very dangerous forces and if his family and the justice system doesn’t deliver on helping him get FIXED… Then the small town lynch mob will kick in to Fix him.
This I know, because I will be at the front of the pack next to my cousin baying for his blood.
NOBODY FUCKS with MY Whanau’s tamariki.
NO-ONE.
*

A NEW RECRUIT:
And on the Tamariki front, after an almost totally bullshit Tuesday, it was topped off with the wonderful news that one of my best friends Tara FINALLY had her overdue baby - a beautiful daughter named Luisa Iris.
Welcome to life Luisa!
Uncle Scorpie's got your back.
Another Cheeky Darkie for the team...
Love it.
*

Thursday, July 8, 2010

36.
.
I'M IN MIAMI, BITCH!



Ok, I'm not really in Miami, nor do I have any immediate plans to go there (oh, but go there I will, one day, for sure), but I sure do feel like the stars are finally aligning for me... Here's the buzz.

Remember a while ago I posted a story on here, the tv show idea I'd ditched after being rejected by almost every television production company in the country? Yeah, you know the one.


WELL... the key word in that sentence is... 'almost'...

Last week, out of the blue, I get a letter from a woman at Great Southern productions (makers of 'The Cult')......who 1. apologises for the lengthy delay in replying to my pitch, and explains there have been some staff changes at G.S. recently and the pitch inbox had been left unchecked for a while,
2. Now that she's looked at the pitch inbox, she likes my idea and wants me to send her further material...

Uuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhh.... WHAT???

So I sit there, shitting my pants for a bit, wondering if I'm dreaming (I can tell by the inane librarian chatter in the background that I'm not), then proceed to go home and freak out for a bit, and then when I finally get it together I take a look at my treatment - the one I'd been sending out and ultimately being rejected for - and decide it's not good enough, oh my god, I have to rewrite it, FREAK OUT! (Le freak, say chic)...

After I've finally calmed down, I decide to make little adjustments to my already perfectly fine treatment, accompanied with a letter explaining that although I was excited at her interest, I was absolutely apprehensive about sending her the treatment because of said earlier rejection, but that as a writer I understand the flexibility of stories, and I was absolutely open to working on the bones of the idea to make it a reality. I also explained the reasons I'd been rejected in the past, and then how I either disagreed with it, and /or how we can work around it.

I think the biggest reason the treatment comes across as intimidating is because it has no dialogue in it, and therefore can't completely portray the kinds of humour I want embedded in the show. The humour is, of course, going to come from the characters themselves, not the outline of their storyline... with all the darkness, you gotta have some light, right? Like they say, a spoonful of sugar...


SO. Off my treatment goes, along with some scenes I spent all night working on for the purpose of portraying some of that humour that is woefully absent from the treatment.

And while I have had positive letters back saying "Got that, feel free to send whatever you want, whenever, I'm in Europe at the moment and should get round to reading it very soon", I'm basically playing the waiting game now.

...I'm trying very hard not to get my hopes up, but the fact that ANYONE has paid ANY interest in my show at all, let alone after I'd practically given up on the idea in television form, is... very exciting, to say the least.


FINGERS CROSSED PEOPLE...

We may just get to live in Dark Valley yet...

.
SPAZZY:
If you're wondering why I have been so sporadic lately with my MAD SCORPION blogging, that is why. I am horribly addicted to writing scenes that will convince Great Southern I am the best thing since sliced bread and that they should make my show.
Hence, you can probably expect THE MAD SCORPION to be sporadic for a while.
...I knew you'd understand.

Can I just say, that despite being the only boy in Typing Class throughout my college years... what a fuckin genius move that was on my part! Probably the only thing I retained of the education I got from those years really... (I remember My Name, and Tongariro National Park as being the only answers I was able to give for my Geo exam... jesus...)
I don't regret it for a second. Typing probably doesn't even exist as a subject these days...
.
GOOD LUCK, BAD LUCK.
Good:
In theme with the good luck I have been having lately, I was notified the other day that I won a competition on Facebook through Warner Music, and a 'HUGE, AO MADONNA POSTER' was on it's way to me.
JOY!!!
This, of course, was down to the e-mail I sent it.
They asked us to send in our details.
I sent in a rant about how much I loved Madonna and that the poster could only go to one person, that I loved it, that I loved THEM, that I HAD TO HAVE IT, GIVE IT TO ME, LOVE IT, WANT, NEED IT, etcetera, etcetera...
"With such an enthusiastic e-mail, how could we not give it you?", was their response...
Oh yeah baby, come to Papa....
Bad:
Running a few months late in my Sky bill (the reason being the bill payment place is a whole town away, and ugh.. Masterton? I don't think so...) I rejoiced when I realised I could actually set up an A.P. Technology, ay? SO, that's exactly what I did, making sure that I was paying off two months for every one. Sounds reasonable, right? WRONG. The very next week I got cut off.
So, I ring Sky credit management, and get a Total Bitch, who seems to think owing $128 is the end of the world, and that I will get my Sky back on in two months when I've paid the bill, and doesn't care that I've just set up an A.P. to take care of it. Ok, you wanna play like that lady???
ME: Will I be charged for the months that I'm disconnected while I pay this off?
BITCH LADY: No.
ME: Ok, well in a month, when I've paid that $128 off, I'll be closing my account and you've just lost a customer, goodbye!
Hang up.
Not two mintues later my phone rings again. It's Bitch Lady who, "after having a little think about it" (HA!), has decided to reconnect me, BUT SHE'LL BE KEEPING A CLOSE EYE ON ME to make sure my A.P. is going through...
Yeah, yeah, whatever lady, just put my tv back on bitch.
Wa la!
... I guess that was bad and good luck.
See? Being an arsehole pays off!
Good:
I run into my dad's cousin at the pub, and his girlfriend, and her mate... it's only a two second meet and greet before we have to run off and pick up someone.
MUCH later in the night, I have a random text from my cousin's girlfriends mate, and she's interested... This is a BOOTY TEXT. Oh yeah...
For someone who loves the water and has been living in the DESERT for almost two years (Yeah, you read it right bitches, shut the hell up), this is a welcome text. Unfortunately, she's now in Greytown and it's far too late for us to hook up anyway, so we have some drunken text flirting (I don't even know what this girl looks like, FYI), and then I crash out.
BAD:
The next day, I get... thirty-seven texts from this girl. What do you do, where do you live, what are you doing, bla bla. After the first ten, I'm like... Ok, I'm over texting, I'm slightly hungover, I just wanna chill.
But no. This is not good enough. Why aren't you answering, what are you doing, where have you gone, etc etc etc... Uh oh. This isn't looking good... In fact, this is looking stalkerish.
Even later - "I'm wasted in a spa with no clothes on", "I'm horny, what are you doing?"
Normally, this is the kind of thing I'd be jumping into without a second thought... but... I can already tell that this girl is clingy and... well, YOUNG might be a good word. Way TOO young.
Even later, when I'm not answering: "What you doing, why aren't you answering". To shut her up, I answer "I have a friend staying, just gonna chill with them at home". All true.
..."I THOUGHT YOU WERE SINGLE?" "I DON'T DO ATTACHED GUYS" "SO ARE YOU SINGLE OR WHAT?" "YOU BETTER NOT BE LYING TO ME" etc etc etc etc.... for about ten texts...
Ok. This girl is crazy. End communication.
My friend commented "Next she'll be accusing you of cheating on her!"
Yep. Later freak.
35.

I’m afraid I might have foot in mouth disease this week.


The other day I ran into an old friend who was recently married. We began talking about a mutual friend (who had just been over for the wedding of the friend I was now talking to), and I brought up another friends upcoming wedding, and how our mutual friend was coming back over from Oz for it, and then I said something like “Yeah, I’m going to that wedding!” meaning it in an excited, I-can’t-wait-to-go way, but realising as I said it that it probably came across as “I got invited to that wedding”. That wasn’t so good, I hope she didn’t think that, though it might explain the reason she was suddenly in a hurry…
The very next day I am chatting online (wow, nothing about ‘chatting online’ should look Retro… and yet…) with another old friend. The subject of parenting and Nannies came up. I can’t remember the exact details but I think there was a miscommunication in there somewhere. I answered a paragraph without properly reading it, and then after my answer about Ladies Of Leisure usually becoming alcoholics I realised my speel had nothing whatsoever to do with what she’d just said, and I was a couple sentences behind in the conversation and had missed out a vital part of my sentence anyway… ugh. Crap.
The point I was trying to make old friend (you know who you are) was that well-to-do Ladies Of Leisure who let nannies raise their kids usually become alcoholics, which was what she was scared she’d become etc.
Hope that clears things up.
.
THE ALL WHITES:


So… when exactly did Soccer become a matter of national pride? I missed that. Although I’d guess only about two, three years ago, tops.
Not that I’m not glad. It’s nice that as a country we can embrace the sport the mainstream consciousness has been spitting on for as long rugby balls have been oval. Here’s to Hypocrisy!
No, seriously, go the All Whites.
.
THE HILLS:

Heidi went home to see her mother for the first time since having most of her body reworked by plastic surgery. From what I could gather it had been a couple of months since her surgery, but she still couldn’t really, like, eat properly, or move her jaw much, and no, those staples at the edges of her forehead aren’t coming out, and no, her frozen-in-surprise browline isn’t coming down anytime soon…
Her mother was visibly shocked and disturbed by her daughters’ new appearance, and, believing her daughter was strong enough post-surgery and staunch enough about her decision, basically took the piss out of her.
Out for dinner, a huge hamburger pattie is on Heidi’s plate, and Heidi can’t really eat it.
“Are you ok there?” asks her Mother, clearly reveling in the fact that her daughter is suffering for her new beauty.
“I can’t really eat it,” says Heidi, clearly hating to have to admit that but obviously thinking she’s in safe hands admitting that to her mother.
“Huh… Would you like me to put that in a blender for you?” asks Mum, looking like she’s trying not to laugh.
The Brother and Sister and Stepfather, btw, are sitting around also, just watching the perverse freakshow with a horrified awe, unable to believe their eyes, unable to look away, jaws gaping, heads shaking…
Heidi politely excuses herself before bursting into dramatic tears and running off.
Love it.
That’s what you get for being a dumb bitch... Duh.
I have to admit though, as the weeks go by and Heidi and Spencer lose the plot more and more – eg. Sitting in bars with strangers discussing aliens and crystals – it’s kind of mortifying to watch… like a car crash you just can’t turn away from…
Audrina sucks.
.
BLEEDING ALL OVER FACEBOOK:


I’ve noticed more and more people lately caring less and less about what they put in their facebook status update for all too see.
Shit about arguing with their partners, or calling so-and-so scum fuckwits, etc.
…I so don’t wanna know about your bullshit. I don’t really like to be bombarded with personal shit from somebody’s life that I (more often than not) haven’t seen in years and aren’t privy to enough of their personality to be front-row in their vicious outbursts and attacks on others.
Almost as bad – but way less shocking and way more tedious – are the INANE CHATTER status updates.
My baby kept me up ‘til four in the morning, oh my god, I can’t wait for my husband to get home so I can have a nice cup of tea…
Oh my god… Fuck Off. I Don’t Care. I haven’t seen you since school finished, we didn’t talk much then, and we don’t talk now, why WOULD I care???
BIG. YAWN.
I guess I could always ‘hide’ those people from my list, but I’d rather they weren’t on it at all.
Hence the three-monthly LIST CULL, where I go through my list and get rid of those who shouldn’t be there but are for some reason.
Like sometimes, if I can’t remember who a person is, I’ll accept them, then look at their photos, and realise it’s that person from school I haven’t talked to in, oh, EVER, so then I cull them.
Lately I have been RE-requested by people I’ve culled before with messages saying “Weird, I thought we were ALREADY friends! Silly Facebook, must be one of those bung things it does occasionally”…
Yeah, that MUST be it…
Those people will be on my list ‘til the next round, then… LATER!
Love it.
Watch those numbers DROP.
.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

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Wednesday, June 2, 2010

33.
.

I have something completely different for you this week. In an effort to salvage my Dark Valley tv series idea, I have tried turning it into a... we'll say Story for now, but The Beginning Of A Novel would be the desired result.

Here is the first 5000 words

Enjoy

Here's to Friendship.

P.s.

For those of you who read this yesterday;

For those of you that noticed certain characters were named after you;

In the interest of artisanship;

And in fairness to changing everybody's name and not just a few -

I have drafted new names for my characters.

If you didn't mind me using your name, and you don't like the one I've replaced it with, let me know and we'll talk.



CHAPTER ONE:

.

“HAVE A GOOD DAY BACK AT SCHOOL!”

.

Baxter Black opened his eyes. And groaned. The holidays were officially over – today was Monday and it was time to go back to school. A prospect Baxter was not at all enthused by.

His mother, who’s banging on the bedroom door had woken him, was saying “Bax! Wakey wakey, school today!”
“I’m up, I’m up” He called in response, forcing himself to roll out of bed.

As he pulled back the curtains the weather offered no escape from his mood – it was as gray and bleak out there as he felt.

“Great.” He muttered to himself.

As he stood there staring at the weather, a fantail suddenly came to rest on his windowsill.

"Huh." said Baxter. "Hello birdie."

The fantail cocked his head at him.

"Baxter!" called his mother again.

"I'M UP!" he called back, and when he turned back to the window the fantail had gone.

Baxter showered, got into his uniform, ate his breakfast, got his books ready... It all started as any other normal school day would.

But little did he know that today would be far from normal.

*

Baxter and his mother Carol drove the old country road to Riverton in relative silence. Baxter being 16, there wasn’t a lot of flowing conversations on these routine drives to school. He didn’t feel like he could talk to his mother about much these days anyway… He mostly just liked to look out at the fields and the mountains, though today they were shrouded in cloud and fog.

Fern Valley, the valley in which Baxter was born and bred, was one of the most dreary and dismal places to live in the whole country. It was pretty, with its rolling farmlands that spread to the coast, but it was also at the bottom, and on the sunless side, of Black Mountain, and the mountain kept the valley in an almost eternal shadow. The weather was overcast 99% of the time anyway – you could count on both hands the number of sunny days Fern Valley saw in a year. Baxter often wondered why people lived in this place at all, and fantasised about the day he could leave this place. He couldn’t wait to get out of here, and dreamed about the day he’d be living in a big city like London, or New York...

Baxter had been fascinated with New York ever since he'd learned that that’s where Madonna had started out. Baxter was a Madonna fanatic – it didn’t earn him cool points, but he didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, Madonna was the shit. He couldn’t wait to go to vibrant and creative New York one day, and follow in her footsteps…But for now, he was trapped in a depressing, gray little hole, where people’s minds were simple, and closed, and prejudiced, and racist, and classist, and moralistic, and stoopid…

Even though he was born and raised in the valley, Baxter did not feel at home here. Nor, to Baxter’s mind, did Fern Valley feel it was Baxter’s home. To Baxter, the place had been screaming at him to Get Out since he was 5.

Yes, indeedy, Baxter couldn’t wait ‘til he was old enough to flee this dark valley.

Right now though, it was back to school. Baxter sighed at the thought of it.

“Alright?” asked Carol.

“Mmm. Just… looking forward to another exciting day at school!” he quipped.

Carol rolled her eyes, but didn’t say anything else. Baxter was thankful – a speech about knuckling down was the last thing he was in the mood for.

The car was quiet, bar the radio, for the rest of the trip, and soon they were pulling up to the corner of Isabelle’s street.

“Seeya later!” said Carol cheerily. “Have a good day back at school!”

“Oh I’m sure I will Mother.” Said Baxter flatly as he got out of the car.

“Kiss!” said Carol, sticking her cheek out.

God, thought Baxter wearily as he obliged her with a quick peck, praying none of the guys from school were around to witness this.

“Seeya.” He said, closing the door and flicking a half wave at his mother.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he made his way down the street to Isabelle’s house.

Isabelle was Baxter’s best friend, and they had known each other since they were at kindergarten. They were very close, like brother and sister – which also meant that, on occasion, they fought like brother and sister. Neither were inclined to hold back on the other if they felt the other needed a good arse kicking. But, for the majority of the time, Isabelle and Baxter got on like a house on fire and practically lived in each others pockets.…

At least, they used to. But ever since Isabelle had starting going out with Jared Miller four months ago, she had less and less spare time to spend with Baxter.

This bothered Baxter. A lot. Primarily because Jared despised Baxter, as most of the guys his age at school did. Baxter was a bit of an anomaly in this region, in that he was a male that didn’t play rugby, or build cars, or hang out with guys and talk about girls… Baxter hung out with the Girls, and was into Drama, and liked Madonna… Baxter, for all intentions and purposes, was, to the general male population of Fern Valley High, a Fag.

Jared and his best mate Jai Kahu – Jai was also the boyfriend of Baxter’s other good friend Raya – were just two of the many that were more than happy to apply the term Fag to Baxter. It was mostly shrugged off by him – he did, after all, have bigger things to deal with – but it certainly didn’t make life any funner.

Baxter felt more than a little ripped off that two of his best friends were now going out with two of his biggest bullies. Sure, they were both nice to Baxter in front of their girlfriends, but given an unseen chance, Jai and Jared were the first to kick Baxter in the guts. And once or twice, literally. But after some stern words from their girlfriends they had backed off a bit to keep the peace, though the tension still definitely hung around. It was pretty routine these days though for Baxter to ignore them, and them to ignore Baxter. This seemed to work for all parties involved.

It’s not as if Baxter wanted Izzy or Raya for himself, as he found it very hard to sexualise a girl if they were already his friend. And he did want them to be happy, which they seemed to be.

But in Baxter’s mind, and he knew the girls knew this deep down also, those boys were nowhere near good enough for his friends. They were arseholes, pure and simple, and he would relish the day his friends ditched them, and he thought about that day often. Thoughts usually accompanied with a dumb grin.

In the meantime Baxter took what little time he could get with them, and that included the walk to school. Baxter walked to school half of the time with Isabelle, but sometimes with other friends, like Kalista, or Kendall. He was looking forward to seeing Isabelle this morning though, as he hadn’t seen her much over these holidays.

As he knocked on the sliding door and slid it open, the usual O’Shale household chaos greeted him.Isabelle’s stepmother, Justine, was going about the morning routine, attending to the two girls Alice and Delaney, Izzy’s little half-sisters, themselves up to their elbows in a mess of breakfast.

“Good morning Justy!” Baxter chimed cheerily, ditching his car brood for a more family-friendly face.

“Morning Baxter!” said Justine. “Izzy’s in her room, go on through.”

Baxter pulled funny faces at the girls as he passed them and into the hallway, knocking on Isabelle’s door.

“Come in!” he heard her say. Baxter swung open the door to see Isabelle sitting on her floor mattress.

She was drying her wet, curly, matted red mop with a towel in one hand, and holding the phone to her ear on the other. Her face was kinda grim and so was her tone. Baxter was instantly unsettled.

“Uh huh… uh huh… Yeah, I know… No, come… It’ll be alright… Promise?... Ok, I’ll see you there, we’ll wait outside the gates for you… Ok… Love You… Byee.”

“Who was that?” Baxter asked as Izzy hung up the phone, knowing full well it was probably Jared.

“Cindy” said Isabelle.

“Oh.” Said Baxter. “Is she alright, what was that about?”

Isabelle looked up at him with a strange look on her face… was that worry? Or confusion?

“I’m not sure if I can tell you,” she said, then added as an afterthought “Though I guess… you’re gonna find out anyway.”

“What?” said Baxter, now kind of alarmed. “What’s going on?”

Isabelle sighed. “It’s Kate… She died yesterday.”

“Kate Taylor?” asked Baxter.

“Yeah.” Said Isabelle.

Baxter stood there in shock for a moment, his mouth agape… before he said the only thing he could think to say.

“FUCK!”

*

It was almost Christmas, 1981, and Baxter and Kate Taylor had been four years old when they’d first met. They had both been taken by their Grandparents to the Retired Servicemen’s Association Christmas show, and had found themselves sitting next to one another in the front. It was instant friendship, and the two had been thrilled to find themselves at school with each other two months later.

Their closeness however hadn’t lasted long, and their friendship became… intermittent.

It wasn’t that they didn’t like each other, it was just that they had both been pre-occupied with the problems they were having at home.

Kate had been adopted, and as soon as she could talk she was arguing with her adoptive parents. By the time she was 8 Kate had suddenly vanished from school, and Baxter learnt months later when he saw her on the street one day that she had been sent to boarding school. She then got expelled from said boarding school and was sent to another, far up north. She was then expelled from that boarding school too, and not long after, expelled from the Taylor family period and was put into foster care. All this by the time she was 11. From there Kate had pretty much been bounced from family to family, and even though she had been tentatively accepted into Fern Valley High last year, had stopped going to class long ago. She went out with Men, not guys her own age but Men. Men who seemed like mean bastards to Baxter, who hardly ever talked to Kate nicely, and who loved having a young girl to fuck, and yell at…

Every time Baxter talked to her over those broken years, the black rings under her eyes got another shade darker, her face a little less happier…

The last time Baxter had hung out with Kate was just a few months ago. He’d gotten to school late, having driven his own car that day – a navy blue Vauxhall Viva, affectionately dubbed Dolores The Vivasaurus – and was walking toward the school gates when he heard his name from across the road.

“Baxter!” He turned and saw a large SUV parked across the road, its window slightly down with a hand beckoning from the darkness. He crossed the road to investigate. Kate’s face grinned at him through the smoky air.

“Wanna puff?”Baxter did a quick scan to see if a teacher was around before jumping into the car.

“Hello Miss Taylor!” Baxter said. “I would Love one, Thanks!”

He took the joint from Kate and took a deep puff. Aaah, just the thing to kill the boredom of all the hours that lay ahead.

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asked her as he passed the joint back.

“Not a lot.” She said. “I’ve got the car ‘til Matt finishes work so I thought I’d go for a drive and sorta ended up here.”

“What, outside school? Don’t worry, you’re not missing much.” Said Baxter. Kate passed the joint back.

“Do you remember when we met?” she said, looking at Baxter with a cocked head.

“Sure do.” He said. “The RSA Christmas Show. And they sang that song that we used to sing at school as kids, remember?”

“That’s right.” She said, smiling. “That song, remember how it went?”

“Pfft, do I remember…” said Baxter sarcastically. And then in unison they’d both burst into song.

“Kiss me, Honey Honey, Kiss me,

Thrill me, Honey Honey, thrill me,

Don’t care even if I blow my top

But Honey Honey

–Uh huh? –

Don’t Stop!”

The pair of them then burst into laughter, and Baxter had a coughing fit from his smoke.

He’d then decided he’d better get into school, and they’d said their goodbyes…

Little had Baxter known then, that talking about the first time he’d met Kate, would also be the last time he would ever see her alive…

*

Baxter and Isabelle walked to school in relative silence. Baxter was dumbstruck. Isabelle was puffing her cigarette anxiously.

“O.k. Hit me.” Said Baxter. “How did it happen?”

“Well… No one’s really sure.”

“What do you mean, was she murdered or something?” gasped Baxter. This was horrible, THIS CHANGED EVERYTHING!

“Well No… not exactly.” Isabelle said.

“Izzy, you’re not making this easier, just spit it out.” Said Baxter.

“Well… she was drinking yesterday… with Jared. And Jai. And Raya.”

“Oh my god.” Said Baxter. “Where were they?”

“At Raya’s house.”

“Noooooooo.” Said Baxter, stunned. “She didn’t die at Raya’s house, did she?”

Isabelle nodded.

“Oh my god.” Said Baxter. “Her Mother. Is Going. To KILL her when she gets back!”

Isabelle nodded emphatically.

“So how did she…” Baxter couldn’t bring himself to say ‘die’.

“Well… she drank herself to death. They think.”

“What? They think? Who, the Cops think??”

“Yeah.”

Baxter shook his head. This was information overload. “Hold up, ok, start at the beginning.”

“Ok.” Said Isabelle, taking a deep breath. “Yesterday Raya, Jai, Jared, and Kate were hanging out at Jared’s. She’d gone round to score weed off Jai, and then they decided to get drunk. Kate bought a bottle of whiskey, they all went back round to Raya’s, and then Kate drank the whole thing in three gulps... And then she was wasted. Apparently she was tryna walk and kept smacking her head into the wall and shit.”

Isabelle stopped to take a quick drag on her cigarette, making sure no cars were driving past that might contain a teacher, spitting into the gutter.

“Umm, so then she was wasted and Jared and Jai put her into the bathtub. They were checking on her every now and then, but then later, just after the guys had gone, Raya went in and Kate’s face was blue.”

Baxter gasped, his hand flying up to his mouth. Poor Raya, having to find Kate like that… He shuddered at the thought.

“She called the ambulance, and they came, but… Kate was dead.”

“So… it was alcohol poisoning, yeah?”

“Well… probably, yeah. But her body has all these bruises from when she was falling around so… the Police sorta think that it was…”

“Murder.” Baxter finished. “The cops think Jared and Jai and Raya murdered her, is that it?”

Isabelle shrugged. “Yeah.” She said. “Well… more the boys really. They’re both down at the station being questioned now.”

“WHAT???” Baxter could scarcely believe what he was hearing. Isabelle could only shrug in response.

“This is bad. This is really really bad.” He said.

“Yup.” Agreed Isabelle.

“How long… when will they get out?” Baxter asked.

Isabelle shrugged again. “Dunno.”

Although he hated to admit it, Baxter inherently knew that neither Jared nor Jai were Murderers. Arseholes, sure, but not murderers…

*

As the two of them rounded the corner they could see Cindy and Raya waiting for them at the school gates. Baxter’s heart jumped for a moment. He wasn’t at all sure what he was going to say to Raya.

“Hi guys.” Said Isabelle, hugging a red-eyed and teary Cindy. Baxter stood for a moment uncomfortably, him and Raya looking at each other. But on seeing her face – her forlorn, tired looking face – Baxter remembered that Raya was just not that person, and that she was innocent in all this. He moved forward and gave her a hug. Raya returned it.

“Are you ok?” he asked her.

Raya rolled her eyes, stepping back and wrapping her arms around herself, exhaling a long deep breath.

“I don’t blame you.” He said, not taking his arm from her shoulder.

“It was horrible Bax.” She said softly.

“It’ll be ok.” Said Baxter, not really believing this. He happened to glance up and noticed the school flag in between the turrets above the grand entrance. The reality of this hit him like a brick.

“The flags flying at half-mast.” He said.

“What does that mean?” said Raya.

“It means somebody died.”

“…oh.” Said Raya.

Cindy and Isabelle turned to look at this two, and for a few seconds the four of them stood in a stunned trance, staring at the flag. Raya took Cindy’s hand, and they stood, connected…

As Baxter thought about the coming day, a thick feeling of dread began to fill him, and he suddenly found himself panicking.

“Oh my god, I dunno about this guys.” He said.

“What do you mean?” said Isabelle.

“I don’t wanna go in there.”

“Yeah, me either!.” Said Cindy, even more upset than Baxter.

“No, come on guys, let’s get this over with.” Said Izzy.

“It’s all anyone’s gonna be talking about all day! I don’t know if I can do it!” said Baxter, noticing his voice was slightly higher than usual. He started to take deep breaths.
“It’ll be ok, I promise.” Said Isabelle, in her most convincing voice.

“You don’t know that.” Said Baxter, shooting her down.

“It will be!” said Isabelle firmly. “Now, let’s get this over this.” And without another word she hooked Baxter by the arm, still holding Cindy in the other, and started walking. Raya, still hooked on Baxter’s other arm, was forced to move too.

The entrance loomed uninvitingly as they approached. Before Raya opened the doors, Baxter took a deep breath.

Inside, the main corridor was buzzing with students. The first bell had not rung yet, and the students were loading their lockers, talking about their holidays, picking on the geeks…

Baxter looked around at the normalcy of it all, knowing full well that very soon Kate’s death would be the subject of every conversation for the rest of the week. He felt kinda jealous that he was not in their position, cheerful, and oblivious…

As they made their way to their home room Baxter saw Kalista, Fern, Kendall and Bailey approaching them. Isabelle saw this also.

“Ugh.” She sighed. “Look Baxter, it’s your friends!” she said brightly and sarcastically.

“Aw yeah, Please! Make today harder Isabelle, thanks!” Baxter shot back.

Isabelle shut her mouth, but didn’t apologise. There was no fixing that bad blood.

Kalista, Fern, Kendall, and Bailey were Baxter’s other group of girl friends, and the divide between the two groups could not be bigger.

The divide was mostly a class thing. Kalista, Fern, Kendall and Bailey were the daughters of locally important, wealthy academics. Kalista’s father Vincent Steel was an insurance magnate who had carried on his father’s business, while her mother Susan was a lady of leisure; Fern Jones’s parents were both teachers at the High School – her father Dave was head of the social studies department, and her mother Shirley was head of the English department; Kendall’s father Sam Douglas was the judge down at the courthouse while her mother Jan was an occasional lawyer but mostly a lady of leisure with Mrs. Steel; and Bailey Rossi-Dodds’ father John was the Doctor of the region, while her mother, Sally, took care of the Rossi-Dodd’s brood. Bailey was currently the oldest child at home, but was the fifth child of Nine, with two brothers and two sisters older then her, and two brothers and two sisters younger – only a Doctor could possibly support that many children.

Isabelle, Raya, and Cindy, however, were the daughters of working class, down-to-earth families. Isabelle’s father Bryan was a music teacher at the primary school, while her step-mother Justine looked after her younger sisters; Raya’s mother Eyvette was a receptionist at the courthouse (Raya’s father was not in the picture, nor did she have any idea who he was); and Cindy’s dad Pete, a truck driver, and her mother Penny, had recently moved down south to live, leaving Cindy behind at the school boarding house.

One would think that in such a small place like Fern Valley, there wouldn’t be much room for social divides, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. The social attitudes and divides were perceptibly concentrated… and, to an observant outsider like Baxter, garishly comical.

Baxter, who liked to spend as much time away from home as possible, and who was personally connected with every one of the girls, had long ago mastered the art of blending into any degree of social standing – one of his mother’s teachings, that Good Manners Will Get You Anywhere, had basically become his mantra. Every Single One of his friends’ parents LOVED him, and he was welcome in all their homes.

The fact that his friends did not get along often drove Baxter insane, but he simply refused to pick a side of the fence. He loved all his friends, but was often frustrated by their varying degrees of hatred for one another – especially between Isabelle and Kalista. While Kalista saved her caustic tongue for less public occasions (usually), and out of respect for Baxter, Isabelle, having known Baxter longer, didn’t really feel the need to edit her mouth for Baxter’s sake.

Despite the tension between the groups, all the girls seemed to recognise Baxter’s loyalty and love for each of them, and therefore they all remained friends with him. Baxter, however, had long ago given up trying to mesh the two groups together.

Isabelle, Raya and Cindy sidled past the other girls silently and went into home room. Baxter smiled meekly at his friends.

“Hi!” chirped the girls cheerily.

“Hi.” Said Baxter forlornly.

“What’s wrong?” said Kendall.

Baxter sighed. “A lot.”

“Hey, I heard Kate Taylor died!” said Bailey, excitedly. This was typical – Bailey was the biggest gossip Baxter knew, and he knew she would be THRIVING on this juicy steak of a rumour.

“Yeah do you know anything about that?” asked Kendall, in the same bright, excited manner.

He couldn’t blame them for being inquisitive – Baxter knew he’d be asking about it too had he not already known. The difference was he had known Kate personally. But he also knew that none of these girls really knew this – in fact, most people would never have guessed that Kate and Baxter even talked to each other. But despite this, their questions bothered him. All four girls were staring at him expectantly.

“It’s true. She’s dead.” Said Baxter.

“I heard she was murdered.” Fed Bailey to the group.

“She wasn’t murdered.” Said Baxter, although he knew he did not know this for sure. “She died of alcohol poisoning at Raya’s.” That last part kinda slipped out.

The girls all gasped at this tidbit, their eyes growing wide, and greedy for more. This irritated Baxter to the extreme.

“Oh my god, tell us!” said Bailey clapping, absolutely delighted to be hearing such juicy treats. But her tone stopped Baxter dead. He was done talking about this.

“Look… I don’t wanna talk about it.” Said Baxter flatly, and started to walk off.

The four girls were slightly perplexed by this reaction, but only Fern was astute enough not to be offended, and she grabbed Baxter’s arm.
“Hey wait. Are you ok?” she asked.
“No, not really.” He said.Fern gave him a hug. The other three girls looked at each sheepishly.“I… I’m sorry!” said Bailey, realising her mistake.
“It’s Ok” said Baxter.
“I didn’t realise you two were friends.” Said Kalista.

“Me either.” Said Bailey.

“I know.” Said Baxter. “No one did. But I’ve known her since we were four, ya know?” Even as he said it, Baxter felt himself getting teary. This was dangerous – he knew being seen crying in the very public main corridor would be enough ammo to get him teased for the rest of the year. He immediately wiped his eyes. The girls exchanged looks – they were suddenly feeling very awkward.

Bailey lunged forward to get in on Fern’s hug. “I’m sorry!” she said.
“It’s ok. Really.” Said Baxter. “I’ll see you guys later.” And with that he went into home room.

The girls watched him leave as the first bell rang.

Fern turned to Kalista. “Did you know he was friends with Kate?”

Kalista shook her head. “It’s news to me!”

“Yeah, I’D never seen them talking!” added Kendall.
“Well… Baxter is a bit of drama queen.” Said Kalista.

*

Baxter sat down next to Raya, who immediately noticed his wet eyes.

“You ok?” Raya asked.

Baxter shrugged. “How ‘bout you?” he asked.

Raya shrugged back. Baxter put his arm round her shoulder. Their fellow students began to fill the room and soon their home room teacher Mr. Wallace joined them. The sight of him turned Baxter’s butterflies into bats. He knew that even though he knew already, the Official School Announcement of Kate’s death was going to hit the news home like a mallet.

“Alright everyone, quiet down please, quiet down!” called Mr. Wallace. The students slowly silenced.

“Good morning everyone, and welcome back!” said Mr. Wallace, in his usual, constantly jubilant manner. “Now don’t get comfortable because the whole school is heading over to the gym for a special assembly, so come on everyone! Off we go!”

While the rest of the class gathered their bags and proceeded to leave, Baxter, Raya, and Cindy remained glued to their seats. Only Isabelle stood up.

“Come on guys, we have to.” She said to the others. The others, however, were extremely reluctant to move.

Mr. Wallace, holding the door open and having ushered everyone out, now noticed his four remaining students.

“Come on guys, quickly!” he chirped.

“Mr. Wallace, do we have to go?” asked Baxter.

“Yes, of course, come on!” said Mr. Wallace, waving them toward the door.

“But we already know what the assembly’s about!” said Baxter.

“Oh rubbish, come on!” said Mr. Wallace, clearly Never going to let them stay. Isabelle looked at the others.

“Come on guys.” She said quietly. “In ten minutes the worst will be over.”

Baxter sighed as he stood. Raya and Cindy slowly followed.

The four of them walked to the gym in a thick bubble of silence, while all around them the buzz of other students was deafening.

They entered the gym, found themselves a spot on the floor, and waited for the axe to fall…

After a few minutes, when all the students had finally filed into the gym, the Principal, Mr. Masters, stood up in front of them all. A hush fell over the crowd.

“Good morning everyone, and welcome back to the new school term” he said, in his most sterile and official voice. “I’m sorry to tell you that I have some bad news for you this morning.”

The tears were welling in Baxter’s eyes already, and he started to feel slightly sick.

“A student of this school, Kate Taylor, passed away yesterday, and we are very saddened to hear of this loss.”

And there they were… the words Baxter had been dreading to hear. They crashed in his ears like bricks, and their weight pierced his heart. The tears began to flow freely, and he let them. Fuck everyone.

In the back of his mind he heard Cindy begin blubbering too. He tried to block it out. He felt Raya’s arm slide around his shoulder, and he let himself lean into it.

Mr. Masters continued. “The school offers its deepest condolences to her family and friends. There will be victim support counseling available all day in Mr. Bain’s office for any students who feel they need it.”

Thank god, thought Baxter. Going to actual class was definitely Not on the menu today.

“But I would also like to remind students that end of year exams are coming up, and I hope that you all can keep focused, and move past this sad event.”

‘Sad Event? A Sad Event? Really? Is that the best he can come up with?’ thought Baxter.
Mr. Masters then began to read from a poem, something about angels and flying free, Baxter wasn’t really listening. But then, to Baxter’s amazement, Mr. Masters exited the gym, and, just like that, it was over. The students were already beginning to stand and were being ushered out by the other teachers. The whole thing had lasted less than two minutes.

Baxter was flabbergasted. As were the other three girls.

“Is... that it?” asked Baxter, confused.

“I think so.” Said Isabelle.

“I don’t believe it.” Said Raya.

“That was nothing!” cried Cindy.

“It really, really was” agreed Baxter. And just like that, his sadness turned into anger. “That Fucking Arsehole!”
“What a cunt” muttered Raya.

“He barely even mentioned her, that makes me SO MAD!” yelled Cindy, enraged, loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to turn and look.
“If it had been one of the First Fifteen or a Netball girl," said Baxter, absolutely seething with fury, "they’d be building a gold fucking statue at the gates!”

“I reckon!” said Raya.
“Come on.” Said Izzy, standing. “NOW we can do what we want.”

It was the first agreeable statement Isabelle had said all morning.

*

Within a minute the four of them were sitting outside the Art room, chain smoking cigarettes. Smoking was in no way allowed on school grounds, but right now, none of them cared about getting detention.

Nor did any teacher or prefect that walked past them seem to care about giving it to them. In light of the news that had just been delivered, it seemed that, for now at least, they had a free pass.

*