Puberty Blues Read Free Page B

across the canteen. She had longblonde hair, a good figure and a top boyfriend. She was pretty, but she was tough.
    â€˜Want a bite?’ I asked, eagerly extending my finger bun—a long, thick, usually stale bun with a strip of pink icing.
    â€˜Thanks.’ Tracey took a huge bite and opened up the bun.
    â€˜Oh, mint of the margarine. Check out how much they give ya.’
    She displayed two measly dabs of margarine inside the slobbery yellow bun.
    â€˜Scabs,’ I agreed.
    â€˜She won’t believe me,’ said Kim.
    â€˜I do! ’
    â€˜Wot?’ asked Tracey.
    â€˜That Bruce Board likes her.’
    Tracey turned on me seriously. ‘He does,’ she said, her mouth full of pineapple doughnut. ‘Look, we’ve arranged it.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Be down the paddock this Friday afternoon.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Bruce wants to meetcha.’
    â€˜But what if he doesn’t like m …’ Bbbbrrring . It was the end of lunchtime. Masses of kids full of cream buns and Coca-Cola began to move out of the canteen into the quadrangle. Tracey, Kim and I stuffed our used cake wrappers into the bubbler and gave the drink machine a kick.
    Jeff Basin rushed over. ‘Lend us three cents will ya?’
    â€˜Nu. Haven’t got none. Comin’ down the paddock on Friday?’ asked Tracey.
    â€˜Bloody oaf. Gunna meet Boardie, Debbie? … Ha, ha, ha, ha …’
    Â 
    Friday morning I packed black, straight-legged Levis and blue jumper into my school bag. I buried a packet of Marlboro in the depths of my bag and went to school. I was packin’ shit all day.
    â€˜What’ll I say but?’
    â€˜You’ll be all right.’
    â€˜What if he doesn’t like me?’
    â€˜Oh, shut up.’
    I changed in the back of the bus, dodging cigarettes and airborne orange peels. I pulled my jeans up under my uniform. I left on my white school shirt, tucked it in and pulled the tunic over my head. The bus driver grinned at me in the rear-vision mirror.
    â€˜Lend us ya brush Sue.’
    â€˜Here ya.’
    Sue had changed into straight-legged Levis and a green jumper.
    Tracey, Sue and I got off at Waratah Street and made the trek to the paddock.
    â€˜Do I look all right?’ I kept saying.
    We walked past Kim’s place. Her elder brother Danny was out the front washing the car. He checked us out as we walked past.
    â€˜Hey, Debbie?’ he called.
    â€˜Hi Danny.’
    â€˜Come here.’ I went over. ‘Is that Susan Knight?’ he said, eyeing Sue up and down.
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜Is she goin’ round wiv anyone?’
    â€˜Oh … um … ah … No.’ They were both short with long blonde hair and would make a good couple.
    â€˜Yews goin’ down the paddock?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜See yas there later.’
    We walked off down the highway.
    â€˜He likes you Sue.’
    â€˜He does not.’
    â€˜He does .’
    â€˜How would you know?’
    â€˜He wants to know if you’re going’ roun’ wiv anyone.’
    â€˜I don’t like him. I’m goin’ roun’ wiv Wazza anyway.’
    â€˜Sue!’ I shrieked in disgust. ‘Drop Waz! Danny can surf almost as good as Deakin. Don’t you know?’
    The flame trees in the paddock were swaying and tossing. It was a cold and windy afternoon. The whole gang was waiting for us—Dave Deakin, Wayne Wright, Seagull, Johnno, Glen Jackson, Steve Strachan and Hen. All the girls were on their horses.
    â€˜Ah, Kim’s a good bucker!’ cried Steve Strachan as Kim rode Cochise into the scene. The boys sniggered and nudged one another. It was well known a girl was a better root if she rode a horse.
    Everyone checked us out as we walked across the paddock. We’d learnt the special walk—small swivel of the bum, head hanging, hands glued to sides and a terribly casual bounce.
    â€˜That’s him over