Read Online My Private Pectus by Shane Thamm - Free Book Online

pansy.’
    â€˜Oh, no he's not,’ Dad says. ‘Dale's good. Real good. You should see him go.’
    â€˜He's a moron,’ I say.
    â€˜Watch your lip!’ Dad orders.
    Roger chuckles into his fist.
    â€˜Well he is. He's the one who started it.’
    â€˜And you're the one who continued it,’ Dad says. ‘You should've seen him, Roger. He went at that kid like a piñata. Imagine fronting up to that kid's parents and telling them it was my boy who covered their son with welts. Imagine that!’
    â€˜It wasn't just me!’
    Finally the scene dawns on Roger: ‘There was a heap of you against one kid?’
    â€˜He asked for it. He called me a poof,’ I say.
    â€˜He didn't?’ Roger says, but then his face changes, like he's suddenly realised the most terrible fact. ‘You're not … are you?’
    â€˜No!’
    Roger crosses his arms, his brow furrowed. He turns to Dad. ‘And the teacher, was he there?’
    â€˜Maloney?’ Dad pushes his beer away. ‘You know what he said? He said I've no right to go off at the boys like I did. No right. Can you believe it?’
    â€˜Why's that?’ Roger asks.
    â€˜He reckons when it comes to discipline, that's his job. He's the teacher, he said. Some bloody teacher.’ Dad reaches for his beer again. ‘He said I've got to take it to the principal. Get him to sort it out. I'm not allowed to take things into my own hands.’ Dad sways his head from side to side with sarcasm. ‘What am I meant to do, Rog? How do they expect me to coach a team of feral teenagers without giving them a rev from time to time?’
    â€˜Have you told him what you think?’ Roger asks.
    Now that the focus has shifted from me I see it as an opportunity to leave. ‘I'm going to my room,’ I say.
    â€˜No you're not!’ Dad yells. ‘I'm not done yet.’
    I sit down heavily.
    â€˜What's the school going to do?’ Roger asks.
    â€˜Nothing!’ Dad says. ‘I told Maloney he can shove his discipline! I sorted those boys out, let me tell you.’
    Roger takes a bite from his pizza and chews slowly, looking at Dad.
    â€˜Maloney said my methods will ruin team spirit,’ Dad goes on.
    Roger spits an olive seed into his palm. ‘Maybe you should take it higher,’ he says. ‘Do what that Maloney says.’
    â€˜What?’ Dad cries.
    â€˜Think about it, Brian. It's the start of the season, you've got to mould the team how you want them. Right now you've got the boys worried, but not too worried. They think all this punishment is over, am I right?’
    â€˜Course they do, but I bet they're still worried. Jack's still hurting from his punishment.’
    Roger looks at me. ‘Push-ups?’ he asks.
    I nod.
    He turns back to Dad. ‘Crikey, Brian, you don't change, do you? You've got no imagination. It was always push-ups.’
    Dad's shoulders dip.
    â€˜Listen, this is what I'd do,’ Roger says. ‘I'd do what this Maloney says. Tosser or not, just go ahead with it. You'll get him respecting you, and you'll show the boys you won't take any rubbish, that you're willing to take things to the General, so to speak. The Principal will see you as reliable and responsible and the boys will be packing their daks every time you open your mouth. Go to the top,’ he says and points to the ceiling.
    Dad looks like a kid who's just been shown the error of his ways. He sits and rubs the scar on the back of his neck.
    â€˜Even better,’ Roger goes on, ‘make Jack go with you. Get him to own up.’
    I gasp. ‘No way!’
    â€˜That'll show him you're serious about it. You won't have a discipline problem then,’ Roger says.
    â€˜You're right,’ Dad says. ‘Mate, I think you're right.’

cellulite with my detention, please
    I'm on afternoon detention and Sam has just walked in. I haven't talked to her since that day at Westfields.