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probably teased and squeezed for a long time in front of a mirror was finally starting to thicken on his top lip.
    As for Brett, he reckoned some chicks would probably think he was okay-looking if he didn’t scowl as much and tidied up his appearance a lot more. Sixteen years old, he was one-seventy-three centimetres tall and solidly built thanks more to Mum’s cooking than working out. He had short black hair combed back in a neat wave except for a few loose strands that dangled about his forehead, and the beginnings of half-sideburns on a firm, round jaw which was rarely, if ever, softened by a smile. His eyes were a frosty, clear blue: the kind that left people cold. They squinted under thin meaneyebrows darkened with a frown, always looking for trouble and always scheming to start some of their own. His clothes consisted mainly of rough-and-ready wear — a dark blue overshirt, charcoal-coloured jeans and brown leather boots.
    â€˜G’day,’ Josh said, smiling warmly and extending his good hand. ‘I’m Josh.’
    Brett kept his hands firmly in his pockets.
    Josh looked to Sam for an answer but he just shook his head.
    â€˜When did you get in?’ Josh asked.
    Brett shrugged.
    â€˜Has Sam given you a tour of the property yet?’
    When Brett still didn’t answer, Sam did. ‘Yes, everywhere from the garage to the dormitories.
    â€˜Who are you rooming with?’
    Rooming. Brett shuddered. It was a high school camp.
    â€˜Some kid,’ he breathed.
    â€˜Robbie,’ Sam helped.
    â€˜Frog?’
    â€˜ Josh ,’ Sam growled.
    â€˜Sorry — Robbie .’
    â€˜Why?’ Brett was suspicious.
    â€˜No reason,’ Josh said. ‘I was just wondering whose room Sam put you in.’
    â€˜So, why do you call him Frog?’
    Josh grinned and was about to answer but Sam spoke up first. ‘Because he’s small. He’s also the youngest here.’
    â€˜How old is he?’
    â€˜Twelve —’
    â€˜ Twelve ?! I can’t live with a —’
    â€˜But don’t worry. He fits in with everyone else.’
    Sam finished the argument before it started and it was Brett’s jaw that tightened this time. Great. All he needed. A twelve-year-old brat who probably had to be read bedtime stories and had to be tucked in.
    One of the hecklers called out Sam’s name and waved him over. The stockman asked if it could wait. The man said it couldn’t.
    â€˜Josh, can you take Brett back to his room so he can unpack,’ Sam said. ‘The rest of the guys will be back soon.’
    Josh looked at Brett, then Sam. His eyes were begging, “Not me”.
    â€˜Please,’ the old man said.
    Josh sighed then said, ‘C’mon,’ and started walking towards The Boys’ House.
    â€˜And, Josh,’ Sam added, ‘watch out. The horse isn’t the only thing that bites round here.’

Out of sight of the Walking Rulebook, Brett pulled a cancer stick from his other top pocket and looked to Josh. ‘Got a light?’ He knew from school never to keep them all in the one place.
    Josh shook his head. ‘I don’t smoke.’
    Brett slapped his pockets one last time before putting the smoke away. This wasn’t funny anymore. ‘What’s his problem anyway?’
    â€˜Who? Sam?’
    â€˜Yer.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’
    â€˜What’s with his you-can’t-do-this-and-that routine?’
    â€˜They’re the rules.’
    â€˜I know they’re the rules. It doesn’t mean I have to live by them.’
    â€˜I wouldn’t break them if I was you.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because I wouldn’t. Usually if one guy gets into trouble the rest do too.’
    Brett snorted. ‘Don’t tell me you actually do what he orders you to?’
    â€˜Sam doesn’t order me to do anything. He’s my friend. I live on his farm. I do what he says.’
    â€˜And