Chapter 21
Leaving School
Tim’s time in prison was nearing the end of sentence. The last few weeks
seemed like a year and the last few days like six months. His parents noticed a
great change in his self-confidence and a degeneration of social harmony. On
his release appointments were set with an agenda involving professional
counsellors to discuss with him and his parents the difficulties he may
encounter in adapting to outside life. They were told everybody handles the
transition differently and all take time to adjust. Their advice was nothing
more than a common sense approach and like most professional advocates they
advocate the obvious and enunciate the self-evident; they were no help, and
hardened in the job to the stage of easily detaching themselves from truly
caring.
Rene considered the destruction of any persons will to live as
deplorable and equal to no other measure, and established jail to be the
perfect environment to nurture such destruction. On the drive home Tim shed a
dolorous tear from the taunts of confinement, he wept under the cover of his
hands effectuating his mother into an overwrought position of pity. For Tim,
the immediate conditioning to freedom was draining, yet allowed for a vague
phantasm of hope. When he got home his room and belongings were exactly how he
left them and the warmth, strength, and tenderness of family support was an
indispensable component for helping reaffirm his place in society. Aiding positive
adjustment was ongoing because the loss of self-worth was not easy to repair,
and the belief others were staring and whispering behind his back lowered
further his opinion of himself; internal emotions were difficult to manage.
Don was just over fifteen years old during this stage of Tim’s
adjustment back into mainstream society, and the last thing his parents needed
was aggravation from him. His hate for school had never waned and he could not
wait to leave. In impressing upon his parents his yearning to abscond they
tried to signify to him the importance of a good education. The differences in
opinion led to discontent from his parent’s because in the end his
determination was unwavering. Ted and Rene accepted the fact; if they forced
him to stay at school it would only result in failure and squabble, besides
they were obliged to continue Tim’s rehabilitation and did not want to put
further pressure on what was getting back to being a stable home life by
arguing daily with Don. Don respected his parents but had no reason to stay at
school. He saw others with cars, motor bikes and out enjoying themselves with
money to spend and time to spare; he wanted to be like them. In hope of Don’s
failure to get a job and remain at school Ted offered a compromise;
“You can leave school if,
like your brother did, you get a job straight away. I mean before leaving
school, not after.” Don agreed. Without his parent’s knowledge he already made
a few preliminary investigations to test the waters for workplace vacancies. He
was familiar with his brother’s first place of work, where he lost his eye, and
was on a first name basis with the staff. The owner of the establishment liked
Tim and reckoned if Don was as good a worker as his brother then he should be
worthy of a trial. He hired him on the spot. Don went to school the next day,
completed the necessary paperwork before ten ‘am’, and was free to start work
after lunch time. His job was to serve customers who wanted petrol, oil, tyres
checked and windows cleaned. The money was poor but more than the nothing he
previously earned. Working there was an ephemeral form of joy in his teenage
years; before turning seventeen he changed jobs twice more.
The first change was working with his mother for what was measured as
good money for his age; twenty dollars a week. She had a cleaning contract
involving the polishing and vacuuming of a bank premises and a bowling club.
They would commence duties at midnight and finish before seven in the morning.
The hours were good to begin because it allowed the rest of the day to loaf
about, but boredom became his worst enemy. With so much idle time he made his
intentions clear to his mother early on he was looking further afield for more
interesting work with reasonable hours. Albeit, the job was not without its
stimulations from what was thought to be from the clandestine schedule of
thieves looking for easy riches. When he and his mother arrived to clean the
bank they would access through a secluded alley leading to the back of the
premises where a tree overshadowing the door blocked the faint streetlights
luminosity. On a few occasions this door was found to be unlocked and at times
slightly ajar; the reasons were unknown. It could have been through neglect or
someone had plans to steal the change locked away in the cashier draws, or
worse the break into the vault. Rene was forever cautious and concerned she was
being set-up as part of a trap to test her honesty. These contracts were
difficult to obtain and the competition was fierce, she did not trust anyone
and never hesitated to ring the bank manager at any time to advise him of
abnormalities.
Despite the tranquillity of the desolate dark mornings, combined with
the normal fatigue associated with an early rising, there was always an air of
alertness, vigilance and apprehension when going to work. One morning Rene and
Don arrived on time, she was not relaxed in her surroundings, a sixth sense, or
women’s intuition alerted her to a danger of sorts. She tried to hide her
disquietude so as not to expose a daunting scenario for Don and carefully
continued her approach to the side gate. They had to enter through the side
gate to walk the path to the back entrance and unlock the door to access the
bank. The silence of the night was broken by the old wooden gate creaking, and
to her it seemed as loud as the sound of an axe splitting a piece of timber in
an echo chamber. When they reached the back door she was relieved it was locked
and with nervous scuttle placed the key in the lock, opened the door, and
pushed Don in with such force he stumbled on the mat and fell to the ground.
She slammed the door shut quickly behind her. Don questioned her actions with
surprise;
“Mum! What was the push for?
You nearly broke my neck.”
“Oohh nothing,” she
responded meekly. “You’re too slow. I’ll get out the polishing machine and you
start cleaning the toilets.”
“Okay.” She went about her
duties cleaning the floors with the whirling sound of the machine making
imperceptible any outside interferences. Don went to the storeroom near the
rear of the bank to fetch the equipment for cleaning the toilets, on the way
back he noticed the side door ajar. They did not have a key for this door and
rarely checked it, it was obscured by a feature wall, besides they had no need
to use it and never had they known it to be open. With cold shivers through his
spine and a pounding heart his distressful shout to his mother grabbed her
undivided attention;
“Mum the side door is open.”
She released the trigger on the polishing machine and rushed to join him at the
door to confirm his cry of admonition, and with reflex action, not bravery, she
went to push the door open outwards to quickly look for irregularities before
wanting to slam it shut; on opening the door she came face to face with a tall,
rugged, blonde haired man, huge enough to be a heavyweight wrestler and in one
hand he carried a torch and in the other a leash with a ‘German Shepherd’
attached to it. Don jumped back in arrant shock and his mother fainted; she
fell like a bucket of shit.
Security had always been employed by the bank to carry out periodical
surveillance, but they beefed up their patrols to perlustrate the whole area
because of the reports Rene had been sending about doors being unlocked. The
guard was concerned about her fainting spell and took appropriate actions to
revive her, faithfully apologizing with sincerity. When she regained full
consciousness he made her a cup of tea and recited a light hearted joke over a
similar incident; she was not impressed. The guard was at odds to explain the
unlocked door and promised he would have words with the manager to ensure it
was his responsibility to check each exit before going home in the afternoons.
He said;
“The problem is, the manager
passes the responsibility onto others and sometimes they forget. Someone may
get the sack this time. He doesn’t like doing it himself because it means he
can’t go home early. He hates being the last one to leave; he’s rarely here
anyway.” Rene was never the same in nerve going to work again. Each day they
finished cleaning the bank around three in the morning and spent the next three
or so hours at the club, she was a lot more composed when the sun came up.
The other part of the contract, the job at the club, offered extra
benefits because of the twenty four poker machines, they had to be cleaned of
grime and stored away. As each one was polished, Don and his mum would wheel
them into a separate room for lock up. Moving them was achieved with a ‘fridge
trolley’ and when the machines were laid back at a forty five degree angle or
more the coins would fall out of the holding box and onto the floor. They were
never so greedy as to be questioned about the practice; one could guarantee the
profits were not all being put through the books and if management reported a
few extra coins missing they would only incriminate themselves. There were also
disadvantages; one being, the revolting necessity to clean the toilets. The
urinals were many and long, much worse than the bank’s one steel trough. Don’s
job was to clean the spew, spunk, snot, shit and any other foreign matter from
the troughs, he would retch on each occasion and never did adapt. The women’s
rooms were no better than the men’s. There was blood on the walls from ‘pads’
being rubbed across them and lipstick scrawled everywhere. He could never
fathom why anyone would want to be so unhygienic. The floor was always covered
in waste of all sorts and over time many a number of empty purses and wallets
in the bins; presumable stolen.
Between the cleaning of the bank and club his mother would at times be
asked to help out with other contracts. If someone wanted a holiday or became
too sick to carry out their tasks, firms would help each other out. Her friend
was in an agreement with council to clean the basketball stadium when it was
required; usually after games. This was not the first time they were asked to
help with a general clean of the stadium. On this occasion, to abide by normal
contractual agreements the plan was for Rene to drop Don off at the stadium in
the early hours of the morning after they gave the bank a quick clean, then she
would go to the club and begin her job there; when each job was complete she
would go back to help Don. Rene neglected to tell Don the basketball finals
were the night before and there could be a huge mess to tidy. On entry his eyes
bulged to behold a clutter of overfull garbage bins and empty drink bottles and
paper scattered throughout. It looked worse than it was as most of it was
superficial. He set about the task of picking up the bulk of it and went to
investigate the change rooms and toilets. Into the ladies dressing room he
marched and much to his surprise he found, lying asleep on the bench, a long,
slender dark haired girl still in her basketball uniform. She looked over
seventeen and was wearing a blue tunic with a white hem and blue knickers to
match. Her sports bag was under her head for a pillow and littered throughout
the room was empty champagne bottles, cigarette stubs and food remnants. Don
assumed this to be one of the winners of the finals who did not make it home
and decided it better to crash there than on the road.
She was no beauty queen and looked to be part ‘Aboriginal’. Sleep was
made apprehensible to Don even without the grog to kayo the senses, because,
the smell of diaphoresis, liniment, stale alcohol, nicotine and egesting of
bodily wastes, stung his eyes and could certainly dull ones mental faculties
into a yawning abyss. He was unsure if to wake her but figured he should
because once he started cleaning the noise would anyway. He gave her several
nudges on the arm and stood back each time in case of a hostile reaction. She
rolled over half awake, dazed, and maybe still ‘stoned’, her chest was athletic
and as flat as a thong. She licked her lips and coughed with jerking motions
while rubbing her eyes. In a disorientated state, she asked;
“Where am I?”
‘Basketball stadium.”
“What happened?” She made
struggling breathing sounds while taking a sitting position.
“I have no idea,” answered
Don. “I’m here to clean the stadium. It’s about three thirty in the morning. I
assume you’ve played basketball, and hopefully won, partied on and fell asleep.
“Ooohhh Yea,” she said
holding her head between her legs.”We did win, didn’t we?” He replied with a
grin;
“I have no idea. Com’n I’ll
help you up.” He held her elbows and helped her to her feet. She was wobbly but
mobile so he suggested she take a shower and wake up proper before going home.
He offered to make her a cup of hot coffee for which she was grateful;
“Thank you. I could kill for
one. I’ll have a shower first.” Don’s manhood was as ambitious as his wandering
eyes, he followed her slender legs and well portioned arse as it waddled
towards the shower. He thought to himself: ‘Get
your mind off it and back to making the coffee’. He walked into the
canteen, made the coffee, and took it back to her. The shower door was closed
so he knocked and told her the coffee was ready and sitting on the shelf
outside. She made a request;
“Can you bring it in please?
My throat is a dry as a nun’s cunt.” He laughed and took it in.There were no
doors or curtains on the showers; they were communal. She was stark naked and
did not batter an eyelid to his presence, there was no attempt to cover
herself, instead she looked him up and down and gave an aphrodisiacal air of
consent. Soap was lathered all over her dark velvet skin and she looked a
picture of delectability. Outside of her uniform she bared a small petite pair
of breasts with nipples much better than first anticipated. An instant erection
crammed his pants and he was stupefied as to the experience of her freedom from
restrictions, she had no reservations, in fact she was very forward and said;
“Put the coffee down and
come rub this soap into my back.” Don knew he was not an ‘Errol Flynn’, but he
was aware he had charisma where the females were concerned, although he never
thought he had this much, it all seemed so easy. Strange things happened in his
sexual encounters and he wondered to himself what it was that interested the
ladies: ‘She is definitely still drunk.
Maybe she can’t think straight.’ But he did not deliberate enough to
distract from the request and leant in so-far as not to get soaked and used a
flannel to scrub her back. The temptation to get in and fuck her became harder
to control, yet she encouraged the idea by turning around to welcome the
caressing of her front. Then she gently dragged him into the shower; clothes
and all. With her arms wrapped around his neck she sucked on his lips. He shed
his wet clothes with great impatience and put his arms around her soft body,
slipping and sliding into the suds, and bodily shapes fitting each other’s
contours, and their hands and fingers hungrily exploring areas like her clit
and his cock. Don was in heaven, the world only existed in this moment. His
hands caressed her skin and his teeth nibbled her ear as he pulled her into a
tight embrace. Her pleasurable sighs and mutters of acceptance together with
her hands rasping up and down his thighs put him on cloud nine. He never felt
his cock so big and hard before and knew it was about to blow a storm. She felt
tingling inside her vagina and the need for something to inflame her passion.
She laid her back against the wall and pulled him in to help negotiate his aim.
The warm, tight, spasmodic fit gave ecstatic exploitation as she clasped her
hands around his rump and tugged harder. She breathed heavier with every
movement of his projectile reaching unexplored areas; he went faster and
faster, she was uttering noises of pleasure in zealous pursuit of climatic
intensity;
“Ooohh more, more, more.
Ahhh, Oooohhh.”
Don was puffing like a steam
train and could not hold back any longer because the excitement was too much.
He blew so hard it gave the feeling a bunch of sparrows was flying out of his
cock; her body went into stiff shuddering spasms before relaxing limp in his
arms; the best, most incredible climax ever.
Once they dried they went to a room with signage ‘Sick Bay’ where a bed
was waiting and had intercourse two more times. Don completely lost track of
the time. As they sit there recuperating and talking a knock at the front
entrance sounded.
“Oh no! Shit! I forget,” Don
exclaimed in a startled manner.
“Forgot what?”
“I forgot, mum was coming to
help me. Shit; shit; shit.” He panicked. “Quick get dressed.” She grabbed her
clothes and ran to the changing room to dress and get her bag. Don’s clothes
were still wet but he had no choice but to wear them. He was well aware he was
in a right old predicament, as the knocking continued he shouted out aloud;
“Who is it?”
“It’s Tom,” came the reply. ‘Thank god, it’s not mum,’ thought Don.
It was a friend who helped occasionally. He was much older than Don and
favourable in character. Don opened the door and let him in. Unaware the sun
was breaking dawn he put his hands to his eyes. Tom said;
“How ya going? Your mum rang
me and said she would be hours yet, and asked me to come and help you.” He
looked around. “You haven’t done much, have you? How come you’re all wet?” On
the end of his last question the girl came out of the changing rooms, she was
out of her uniform and dressed in prettier clothes stored in her sports bag. On
the way out she squeezed past both of them, looked at Tom first and said;
“Hello,” Then looked at Don.
“Thank you for letting me in to get my bag. I didn’t want to lose my purse. See
ya later.” That put an ease on faces of astonishment and helped explain the
many more questions Tom was sure to ask. But his curiosity was not completely
appeased by her quick thinking, maybe rash justification, and he could not
refrain from comment;
“God, she was alright. Where
did she come from?” Again he asked; “How come you’re all wet? Don tried
espousing appropriate levity;
“TOoomm; one question at a
time, she was here for my body. Now are you going to help me or not?” Tom was
not satisfied with his answer;
“Yes but how come nothing is
done and your wet? He was not going to give in.
“Okay, don’t tell mum, I
haven’t had much sleep lately and I fell asleep for a while until, whoever she
was, came knocking at the door for her bag. And I’m wet because I was rushing
to the door thinking it was mum and tripped over the mop and bucket; happy
now?”
“Not really, there must have
been a bloody lot of water in the bucket,” he said with a chuckle. “But it will
have to do won’t it? I believe you, many wouldn’t.”
They went about the business of cleaning the stadium. Don continued with
a grin of achievement from ear to ear. In his recall of the encounter there was
no time for the capacity to cogitate about her circumstances and he was sorry
he did not ask her name. On reflection of the moment he remembered Fran blaming
him for her pregnancy and thought: ‘Shit,
talk about being taken by surprise, it was great, but again I got carried away
with the situation and forgot about pulling out. I hope it doesn’t come back to
bite me in the arse like Fran’s little tattle.’ Preventing potential
conception can only be attained by someone who thinks with his brains, not his
dick; Don was not that someone. To date he never used any type of contraception
and remained to pusillanimous to source them, and even now, after the scare
over Fran’s pregnancy still playing heavily on his mind he would not buy them.
The consequences were much torment of probabilities regarding his current
venture and it was to plague any future contentment for many months to follow.
The cleaning job was still too much for Don. He warned his mother soon
after he started working the contract he was looking to get another job and now
more than ever he wanted a change in employment. After only six months of
working with his mother, a timely and favourable combination of circumstances
arose for the acquisition of his third job. His father still worked for the
‘Council’ and one of the foremen whom he made friends with needed another
labourer for his gang. As the old adage goes; ‘It’s not what you know, it’s who
you know’. Ted saw fit to persuade his friend to talk to the hierarchy about
hiring Don. The mission was successful and Don was employed as a ‘carpenter’s’
labourer on bridge construction for which he remained committed to for years.
He began seven months before his seventeenth birthday. The pay was a lot more
than he had been getting from his mother, and as always he was thrifty with his
money. So far he saved a good sum considering the short amount of time served
in employment, and a lot more was feasible after he joined the Council.
When it came time to obtain his vehicle learners permit he had enough
money saved to pay for the latest model ‘Mini Cooper S’; nearly two thousand
four hundred dollars. Ted and Rene were not amused by his choice as these cars
were small and fast, so fast the police utilized them as their own pursuit
vehicles. The issue was; his parents could never erase the conscience-smitten
misery they still silently brooked from Tim’s accident. Don’s procurement of a
car with a reputation for speed and racing generated once again acute mental
images and psychological pain for both of them. When Don passed his driving
test he was forever out, unbeknown to him, his parents would lie in bed awake
all night until he returned home safely; a habit most parents could do without.
Without friends his own age a lot of the trips were to visit Mrs Rob and Mr and
Mrs Clay. Although he had avoided the company of his old buddies he remained in
good relations with their parents because they had always been caring and
civilized to him and they allowed him to park his car on their allotment when
he went shooting on the surrounding properties.
Sam remained committed to omitting Don from his everyday life and never
acknowledged his presence; the feelings were mutual. Sam finished school not
long after Don and was now working at the same sawmill with Sterge and Weepy;
making the three thicker than thieves. Cars gave everyone a lot more freedom
and provided the ability to break the routine of a bush lifestyle and explore
further afield for progress in self development, but not his old friends, for
them the simple normal pattern and everyday methods and procedure remained the
same. They had no ambitions and no enterprising or energetic drive. Fran was no
different to the boys in such she remained as static as them, only difference
was she was unable to hold down a regular job. After trying her hand at various
duties like customer service and pumping petrol she did not have the dedication
or required social habits to please an employer. Her excuse was she found it
difficult to travel the distances needed to find suitable work, and days were
wasted at home annoying her mother who’s energy and patience was sapped by the
constant flow of men Fran entertained. She always had money to buy cigarettes
and ‘Pepsi’ and lavished herself in fine adornments, gifted and paid for from
her many meretricious relationships.
One Saturday morning Don was pressure spraying his car clean at a garage
in town when much to his surprise Sam drove in and stopped with good bearing by
way of an affable smile and a congenial conversation. Don reluctantly forced
hospitality in reply to the many questions posed regarding work and life in general
and tried hard to return Sam’s cordial temperament, but amicability was taxing
for Don, he was mistrustful of such a return to comity. After a mix of chitchat
Sam said;
“Sterge, Weepy and me, we’re
going shooting. Do you want to come? Don was not totally receptive to Sam’s
proposal because of his dubiety in the reasoning behind the invitation. He
presupposed: ‘Sam asking me to go with
him would have to be with Weepy and Sterge’s knowledge. Still, I’ve grave
misgivings about their reasons for wanting me to go.’ He thought long and
hard: ‘Because I was once a regular in
their company I guess there’s no harm. Surely they would have grown to be more
sociable and learnt to act with sound practical judgments by now. Maybe they
really want to be friends.’ He agreed tentatively;
“Yea. Okay. I’ll see you
there tomorrow. What time?
“About ten. See ya,” replied
Sam saying his goodbyes and driving away. Don had contrasting views about
going; he was glad they were making the attempt to socialise, but was unconvinced
it was with a benign intentions.
Next morning on his journey out to Sam’s he was having vacillating
afterthoughts: ‘Why am I doing this? Sam
has always been against me; they all have; especially Sterge.’ But the
exquisite pain of forlornness was always present and their forthcoming meet was
in hope he could re-engage everyone’s companionship. On arrival Sam pleasant
enough and said;
“The others have already
gone. We’ll meet them at the top paddock.” This was about a half mile hike. Don
had been there many times and knew the track blindfolded. When they caught up
to the others Weepy acknowledged him with a “hello” and consented to his
presence without protest, but few words were spoken. The ailment affecting his
eyes had worsened and the weeping incessant and distracting involving extra
attention in care. Sterge had not changed, he was his usual contumacious self,
and still displayed a reprobate and sociopathic personality. The treatment and
care, if any to control his disease, was obviously not working because his gums
looked more sickening than Don remembered them; all the while he still sucked
on grass stems to ease the pain. Sterge chose to repudiate Don’s existence with
an attitude of degradation;
“What the fuck are ya doing
‘ere? You’re not welcome. Are ya still a fuckwit? Don had no idea what was
going on, he was under the impression Sterge was aware he was joining them. Sam
said;
“I told ya he was coming.”
Don gave opinion by doing something he once regretted; he stood up to him;
“What ‘ave I done to you?
You’re always a cranky bastard.” Sterge spat out his stalk of paspalum and
swung his fist to Don’s jaw knocking him to the ground before he could count to
one. Retaliation from Don would have been a desperate and foolish mistake. He
was no match for Sterge and any cycle of reprisal would have proved to be a
pathetic attempt of bravery: ‘Maybe I’ll
grab a lump of wood and smash him,’ he thought. But that was not to be
either. Sterge held the rifle to Don’s head for an instant with his finger on
the trigger and scowled imperiously before lowering the gun and marching off.
Don was petrified.
“Com’n, get up. Don’t worry
‘bout ‘im,” said Weepy. Don was worried, very worried, he wondered why he was
stupid enough to think things could change because they were older, yet he
continued on because he was not game to walk home alone. He believed he was
safer with the company of Sam and Weepy and stayed well out of the way of
Sterge. Everything was going as near to normal as it was going to get, they
shot plenty of rabbits but Sterge was shooting at anything and no-one was going
to reprimand him. He shot a kangaroo and on close inspection of his kill he
found it to have a ‘joey’ in her pouch, he held the gun to its head and pulled
the trigger without so much as a blink of the eye. Then he stuck his thumb and
finger in its eyes, one at a time, and pinched them out of their socket. He did
nothing with them, just squeezed them to appease his crazed fascination with eyes;
Don had never witnessed this behaviour before and had no doubt he was mad.
Everyone knew Sterge could be very brutal and heartless to anyone or
anything, to what degree depended entirely on his mood. They come across this
huge ‘lace monitor’ with long strong claws, powerful legs and over six feet in
length. It was dark grey in colour with creamy scales forming bands and
blotches over its body, and when alerted to danger approaching it scudded up
the nearest ‘spotted gum’ where it clung tightly to the bark and out of harm’s
way; so it thought. Don was amazed by its size, strength and beauty and was
happy to leave it in peace, but not Sterge. He aimed his rifle from the hip and
pumped six bullets into it while laughing out loud; it fell to the ground dead.
There was no innuendo or contradictions towards his actions from the others,
they sanctioned the kill with words of praise and took pleasure in its
annihilation. Don, without thinking, could not hold back, he foolishly
questioned Sterge;
“Why would you shoot a
defenceless animal? You’re so cruel.”
Devoid of emotion Sterge shoved the rifle butt into Don’s face dropping
him like a ‘hot spud’ while traducing him to the rest. He split his lip and
spilt a lot of blood and just walked away as if nothing happened. Don wanted to
shoot him dead, anything less would have been suicidal because he was too
unpredictable to leave standing. He curbed his temper and did not carry the
complaint further for fear of dying himself. Sam and Weepy did nothing, they
were cowering in fear and enjoying the ridicule and persecution of another.
Both were scared of Sterge’s volatile behaviour even moreso than in their
younger days and could not, or would not help Don. They had now lost their
individuality and become docile and conformable puppets to his whims; they
chuckled at Dons debacle.
Don could not understand why he was invited. He thought; ‘Maybe Sam really wanted to reconcile
differences, and it might have been different if Sterge was not in attendance.
I have no idea. I hate them all even more than before.’ He was deeply
embittered by their conduct; it was as plain as the blood on his face they did
not want him around. At this point he came to the realisation he should have
adhered to his uneasiness when Sam first invited him as it now proved beyond
doubt their friendship had grown apart too far for any sort of reconciliation.
Their personalities resembled beastly wretches which seemed permanently mutated
into a state of dark malevolence by virtue of being themselves; malicious,
spiteful and nasty. He thought: ‘Finally
I’m sure I’ve learnt my lesson, this is the last time I will ever hang out with
them. I have to get outta here now.’
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