'Mum says I have to go home before I can go to the beach with you guys.' Jerome sprawled on a mattress in the middle of Logan's bedroom floor.
'How come?'
'Gotta clean my room,' Jerome mumbled. 'She was absolutely spewing last night. She nearly wasn't going to let me come at all.'
Logan stretched on his bed, then hurled his pillow at Jerome's head. Jerome re-launched the pillow back at his friend, added his own pillow, and his doona, and then threw himself on top of the pile, punching into the pillow. Laughing and shouting, they ignored the thumping on the wall that came from Logan's parents' room.
'Get off, you idiot!' Logan managed to push Jerome off, toppling him back down to his mattress. 'You know Dad's gonna want to leave by about nine. What time is it now?'
'Shit! It's already seven o'clock. I told Mum I'd be back by now.' Jerome started pulling on his sneakers.
'I can ask my brother to give you a lift if you want,' said Logan doubtfully.
'Yeah, like he's gonna do that.' Jerome's voice was muffled as he pulled his pyjama top over his head. 'I can be back here in an hour if I leave right now.'
'Well, hurry up then.' Logan had already clicked on his TV and was surfing for the cartoons. Jerome's stomach gurgled with hunger and excitement as he unlatched the gate at Logan's house. It was boiling hot already, he thought as he walked through, forgetting to close it behind him. It was going to be great at the beach.
He looked around. It was always quiet around Logan's house, he thought. No-one was ever in the street. Logan had told him his dad didn't even know their next-door neigh-bours' names. The idea was bizarre to Jerome, who'd lived in the same house all his life and knew every person in every house in his street. And they all knew him. Sometimes it was cool living there. Every few months or something, they'd have a street party at the bottom of the cul-de-sac, and he'd be allowed to stay up till whenever. At those parties, he could get away with practically anything, because his mum and dad didn't like to yell in front of the neighbours. And at Christmas everyone tried to have better lights and shit decorating their houses. In Christmas week, it was like there were street parties every night. Last Christmas they'd even closed half the street off at the top of the cul-de-sac, and his dad and Mr Robotham had built a massive barbecue right in the middle of the road. Jerome had copped a hiding for nearly knocking it over when he'd come down the street on his belly on his skateboard. He laughed out loud now, thinking about it.
But at least Logan didn't have everyone knowing what he was doing all the time, he thought, staring at the neat houses. No-one was even mowing their lawn, or watering. Logan had told him his dad said everyone was too busy trying to pay their mortgage to talk to anyone else.
Jerome kicked a rock along as he walked, imagining he was Harry Kewell and the crowd was cheering his name.
Making a massive save from losing the rock down the drain, Jerome failed to notice the van stopped near the park.