Screw Loose

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Authors: Chris Wheat

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BOOK: Screw Loose
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First published in 2008

Copyright © Text, Chris Wheat 2008
Copyright © illustrations on
♣
and
♦
, Heath McKenzie 2008

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The
Australian Copyright Act 1968
(the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (
CAL
) under the Act.

A
LLEN
& U
NWIN
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest
NSW
2065
Australia

Phone   
(61 2) 8425 0100
Fax   
(61 2) 9906 2218
Email   
[email protected]
Web   
www.allenandunwin.com

N
ATIONAL
L
IBRARY OF
A
USTRALIA
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:

Wheat, Chris, 1949-
Screw loose / author, Chris Wheat.
ISBN 978 1 74175 495 7 (pbk.)
A823.3

Cover and text design by Bruno Herfst
Set in 10/14 pt Bohemia by Midland Typesetters, Australia
Photo
by Kerensa Low and Raffaele Ammirati
Printed in Australia by McPherson's Printing Group

10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

Contents

NOT COCKIES STYLE

NUTBUSH

STICK YOUR TONGUE IN MY EAR

BAKLAVA ATTACK

HOW GAY IS ROWING?

CRUEL BUT DELICIOUS

FIFTY MILLION SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD GIRLS

RATHER KEEN ON ELTON JOHN

A SILVER LINING

IS THIS ABOUT YOU? OR IS IT ABOUT ME

A BIT OF A PROBLEM AT BARBECUES

JUST LIKE THE PERSON SITTING NEXT TO YOU

PLAN B

FOR THE LADIES

WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?

SPEED DATING

START UP THE MIRROR BALL, BABE

HAVE BABIES WITH ME!

MYSTERIOUS GIRL

STR8 GUYS DON'T TIPTOE

FRUITLOOPS ATTRACT

EMO ATTACK

ARE YOU A LEMON?

HIS IMMACULATE HANDBALLING SKILLS

RULES FOR HARMONIOUS LIVING

ON THE STREETS

EIGHTY-TWO BEDROOMS

PORNO

NEARLY DOMESTICATED

A SIMPLE BUSINESS MATTER

I ♥ GUINEA PIGS

AN ETIQUETTE LESSON

SCREW LOOSE

TRÈS CHIC

OUR BODIES BETWEEN OUR KNEES

CALL IN A HANDWRITING EXPERT

GUINEA PIG COUNTER STRIKE

OUT OF MY COMFORT ZONES

THE FORTYFIVE CENTIMETRE RULE WAS BREACHED!

SHE CAR - SURFED

Start the day in an interesting way

MY TWO HUSBANDS

YOU ARE IN CANADA!

TRUTH OR DARE

SUBTLY, EVERY AEROPLANE IS DIFFERENT

A WHOLE LOT WEIRDER

STRETCHEDLIMO

ROCKERS AND ROLLERS

BIZARRO CHOICES

AN UTTER DUPER SUPER STAR

A GREAT MOMENT

AIR KISSES TO EVERYONE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

NOT
COCKIES
STYLE

W
HAT'S IT LIKE
to be drafted into an
Afl
team when you're seventeen and then break your little finger in the first five minutes of your first match? To find your photo on the front page of the paper on Monday, holding up your broken finger, your girlfriend beside you hiding under your jumper?

Angelo re-read the caption: Schoolboy Angelo Tarano, impressive draft for the AFL's newby team the Hobart Cockatoos, shows off his broken finger while girlfriend Candibelle Brown hides under his Cockies guernsey. Angelo is a Year 11 student at Vistaview Secondary College and one of this year's most sought-after recruits.

He swore softly to himself. She'd called herself Candibelle Brown. As if. He was crazy about her.

His phone twinkled and he checked the screen. It was the assistant manager, Paul Vasilevski, ringing from Hobart.

‘Angelo! Paul here. Seen the newspaper?'

‘Yes.'

‘We're not too happy down here, old chum. Not too happy to see you on the front page without our permission. Who's this Candibelle?'

‘Um, my girlfriend.'

‘I can read. What kind of a name is Candibelle Brown? She's not a lap dancer, is she?'

He laughed. ‘No!'

‘What's with the club-guernsey-over-the-head caper?'

‘She's shy.'

‘Shy?'

Angelo paced his bedroom. He glanced at himself in the mirror, then his eyes returned to the picture spread out on his doona. At least
he
looked pretty good. If the Cockies thing went pear-shaped he could probably become a male model. He smiled at himself in the mirror, the way you do.

‘It's bloody strange, isn't it?' Paul went on. ‘Club guernsey over the head? Makes you look like a bit of an idiot having a girlfriend who does that.'

‘I guess.' He was starting to feel a bit irritated. This joker was way too pushy. And why wasn't he asking about the finger?

‘It's not Cockies style, Angelo.'

Still, he had to stay sweet with them. ‘Yes, sir,' he said, sounding a bit sarcastic without intending to.

‘You two a major item?'

‘Major. She's fantastic.'

‘Well, the club isn't happy, mate. This Candibelle doesn't fit the image we're trying to create for you – young schoolboy star. She's right out of left field, Angelo. We want you young players to have girlfriends, but she's not family-friendly, if you get my drift. And we like them normal, Angelo. That's what life's about. She looks as if she's got kangaroos loose in the top paddock.'

He was angry now.
You want to play
Afl
, you shut your trap
and put up with them taking over your life
, that's what his dad and his nonno told him. But Vasilevski taking over his lovelife? No way! ‘She's just shy!'

Paul changed his tone. ‘Okay buddy, back off … Next time there's a photographer on the loose, just make sure you don't let your girlfriend start this guernsey-over-the-head business again. Okay?'

‘Okay.'

Paul hung up abruptly without saying goodbye. Angelo grunted, threw his phone on the bed, and was about to punch the wall when he remembered that good players use their heads not their emotions. This was the pressure they'd warned him about. The club was going to pay him heaps, and he owed them one hundred per cent loyalty, one hundred per cent of his time, one hundred per cent of his life.

Life was going to get tough – they'd all told him that – but one day he would be a Cocky icon, maybe an
Afl
icon. They were putting him in the New Drafts calendar:
The Boys Come
Out To Play
. That was an honour. He thought of all the articles in his parents' scrapbook:
Tarano's Stunning Debut; Cockies
Snare Tarano in National Draft; Angelo's Got the X-factor; Cocky
Angelo Champs at the Bit.
He'd become famous before he'd even played a game. And extra famous after yesterday's little-finger-five-minutes-into-the-first-game effort. Kind of.

The phone twinkled again. It was Paul.

‘Angelo! Forgot to ask. You wearing your boxers at the moment?'

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