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320 pages, Hardcover
First published February 1, 2013

I start Monday by falling flat on my arse. A normal guy might think his day could only improve from here. I seriously doubt this is going to be the case. I hear laughter and clapping. Someone cheers.
Above me, a giant sign hangs precariously from the corridor ceiling: a pink and purple, glitter-encrusted symbol of doom, handmade by the Spring Dance Committee.
Justin Zigoni takes a flying leap over me and slaps the sign with his hand. A shower of glitter descends from the ceiling and a piece lodges itself in my eyeball.

Adrian skips ahead, Camilla threads an arm through Allison's, and Allison smiles at her gratefully. The two of them follow Adrian.
Mike drapes his towel around his neck. "Dude, are you gonna pass out? Cos I'm not sure unconsciousness will be your best defense.
"Mike-assuming we're not killed on sight-are we actually expected to talk to these people?"
My best friend might live in a uniform of thick hoodies, but he has also spent the majority of the last four years doing push-ups and sit-ups and whatever other stuff they get yelled at to do in karate classes. Maybe I look like a prepubescent girl with my shirt off. But Mike-well, Mike looks exactly like he has spent the last four years at the gym.

I change out of my feral depression clothes. I shower and brush my teeth, put on clean track pants and an old T-shirt, and then I stare at my face in the bathroom mirror until Mum taps on the door and asks if I've drowned.



"We watched Dirty Dancing. Mike fell asleep, but I had to admit I kind of liked it, which made me question my own sexuality, raising a whole heap of other questions I chose not to examine."Their routine of avoiding jock/terrorist Justin Zigoni and his crew by hiding out in the IT office is compromised when Camilla Carter comes to town. Camilla is Australian by birth but has spent most of her life bouncing around the world with her famous music critic father. Camilla ends up in the IT office her first day because her laptop won't connect to the school's WiFi. Sam, the IT assistant, can't avoid her, especially when she notices his WoW screensaver and writes down her WoW name.




"Well that was just simple stuff. Since I wasn't sure if my hands or voice were going to crap out on me. But… I have other music too," she says shyly. "More instruments. More complex arrangements. Lyrics that aren't about animals."


✼ Noah has shaggy dark hair and checkered shirt scattered with holes. He looks exactly like he belongs on stage in a dingy bar, not in a year-twelve classroom.
✼ Midway through last year, I was employed by the school as Alessandro's assistant. Our IT coordinator does not really need an assistant. He needs a shower, and possibly a dentist.
✼ Adrian dances like a hobbit who's just peed on an electrified fence.
✼ Allison is as good as I'm likely to get. I dunno. I've tried, experimentally, picturing her shirtless; I suspect she looks like me when I was twelve.
Remember, pain passes," he says solemnly. "But it will continue to be a giant pile of steaming gorilla shite until then. Ride it out. Use the pain. Just don't do anything rash like showing up on her lawn at three in the morning with a guitar, cos birds get freaked out by that stuff."
I know I should be able to find a story in anything. Good screenwriters can pull interesting films out of the asinine and mundane. But everything I've read about writing always begins with ‘write what you know.’ What I know is: quiet streets, topiary, moronic high school arsehats, and homework. Has anyone ever made a movie about homework? Probably. I bet it was in French.

“I think I would give up movies for this feeling.”




“No one calls me Sammy. My mother occasionally throws a “Samuel”, but I am, and have always been, just Sam. Sammy is a name for five-year-olds and game show hosts and Shiny Happy People.
I am, definitely, not a Sammy.”
“If there was an award for the world best high school cliche, Justin Zigoni would not only win, but they’d name the award after him as well.”
“But why me?
Because, idiot, you... are funny and smart and you have a giant heart that you can't even pretend to hide. And you love your friends and your mum, and you held my hand and made me sing when I was so scared I thought I was going to die. I knew you understood, right from the beginning, this thing inside, the stuff in your head that you need to make real. You get that.... And you wear stupid Superman pyjamas without any irony, and your face lights up when you talk about the movies you love.... And... you protect my dwarf. You always have her back. And you have a dimple when you smile that's so cute I almost died the first time I saw it.”