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note. It was from his mum.
    Â 
    Dear Brett,
    I thought you might need a few things while you were away. I asked the police to put this in your bag for me just in case your trial went badly. Whatever has happened, know that your father and I love you. We will miss you a lot. I only hope they’ll let you home soon. If you get into any trouble, call us and we’ll help you.
    Love always, Mum.
    Â 
    Brett crumpled up the letter then binned it. He was in trouble now . So why didn’t she help him?
    He picked up the photo again and looked at it. Itwas a recent one. His mother, father, two sisters and he were all sitting at some park for some dumb family reunion. The sour look on his own face said he wanted to be any place but there. That, and the fact that he didn’t want his photo taken. But his mother had nagged him, and only to stop a fight, he’d agreed.
    Brett chucked the photo away then lay down on his bed. He was tired. He’d been up since four o’clock. The sun had also evaporated his desire to do anything (except maybe skol a coldie — but there was no chance of that in this place). He closed his eyes, the coolness of The House tempting him to fall asleep.
    In the quiet, Brett started to daydream. He did it a lot. He’d slip into a daze and forget about the world for a while.
    He started thinking about what he’d normally do on hot days like this. Mount Druitt pool was always a favourite hang-out. He’d dive into the water full of bodies churning it up; dunk a mate; eye the babes in bikinis; then sit on the burning concrete to dry off. Sometimes at night, he’d lie under the stars. He’d grab his cigarettes and a few beers and head down to the local park. He was one of those people who wondered what went on up there and whether it hadany relevance to him. After a couple of hours he’d get smashed. He’d stagger home at three or four in the morning or end up sleeping in the park.
    Dreaming of home, Brett started to think about his parents. Of Dad’s look before he said goodbye and Mum’s final hug. They were good people and the only ones who’d stuck by him. He didn’t know why. He didn’t deserve their love or respect. If he had a kid like himself he would’ve booted him out the front door by now. But his parents never did. The cops would always bust him then bang on the front door. His mum would answer it in her blue nightgown before waking up his dad. The three of them would have the usual fight once the pigs left, then his parents would talk about him in hushed whispers when they went back to bed. It was so predictable it was depressing.
    He reckoned the only person who truly knew him was his on-again, off-again girlfriend Rebecca. They’d been going out since year eight, so she’d had plenty of time to figure out who he was. She was big on talking. They’d had a lot of deep and meaningfuls, and the occasional shallow and meaningless, but she was the only person he felt comfortable sharing his thoughts with. Which was probably why they’d ended up being boyfriend andgirlfriend. She was the only person he felt close to.
    But they were finished now. Before he broke into that bottle shop, he’d found out Rebecca had hitched up with some country cowboy and left that morning. It seemed she was in “true love” and had promised to follow this hick across Australia. Yer right. It was the same “true love” she’d promised him .
    He shook himself from the daze. He was starting to get depressed so he got up to explore the room.
    He walked over to Robbie’s (or Frog’s) side and checked through his stuff for anything worth stealing. Nothing. Just a couple of comics and trading cards. Typical twelve-year-old trash. Knowing there had to be something worth flogging somewhere and keen to find it, Brett hit the corridors.
    The building was quiet except for the ssshhh ing of the toilets next to his dorm,