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This is an old story, written sometime in 1998. That's why it's so bad.

"I don't like the drugs, but the drugs like me..."

Bozza was singing at the top of his lungs beside me. He thinks he could be the next Rob Zombie - he's even named his car the Dragula. We call him the Copycat Freak. Affectionately, of course. He wasn't always that way - he used to be a good kid. Top class. Smart guy, and nice too. But over the years he's become what he is today. He had a lot going or him - now he's just gutter trash. I can't say it any other way.

That's what we all are. Gutter trash. Most of us don't really care what we are, or what we become - as long as we can keep shooting up, we rely on God's good humour to get us through our days. Adolescence is a bitch.

I looked around the room, squinting through the clouds of smoke filling the caravan. It was our private spot, abandoned years ago by a fella who had a Sydney gang tearing after him. A bunch of tough shits, they were. Nobody else had the guts to go there except us. We took pride in that fact. Lord knows it's the only pride we had.

OK, let me try and remember who we had there. There was Bozza, as previously mentioned. Going around the circle, next was Cruddy - she was the only member of the group that drank in moderation, or so she says. But she was cool. She was also my best friend. Then there was Kuta - that wasn't his real name, obviously. He hadn't told us - didn't want anyone to know. Probably something really spac like Matthew. A Maori with an attitude like a bull and a face like a collapsed lung. (Charming description, eh?) Next was Ego, and what a huge one it was. He was the worst of the lot with the drugs - hand a satchel to him and it's in him before you can even blink. He'd porked nearly everyone in Brentley Grammar, and that includes the blokes. He wasn't a fussy chap. Luckily he learned from Day One that he had to keep his hands off me and Crudday. "The body is a temple, not an amusement park." That's our motto.

And then there's me. Kizza. I'm not a major fan of drugs, but i've been known to smoke a riffa every now and then. This is going to sound concieted, so don't get the wrong idea, but I was the smartest one of the bunch. That's how I get out of trouble, like if the gang got caught dealing or something. They always let me handle situations because i've got that kind of face and attitude that gives you no choice but to believe me. Anyway, if I can fool my parents, I can fool anyone. I started hanging out with this group sometime in Year 10. We were all in Year 12, our final year, when this happened. Hoo wee.

"Did you go to try for that job?" I asked Bozza. He shook his head as he rolled a joint, his fifth for the day.

"Tried it, I did," he replied. "The dude there said I didn't have enough experience."

"Well, you don't," I pointed out. "All you do is bludge."

"Yeah, but at least I gave it a friggin' go. How am I supposed to get some experience when no-one will give me a chance to learn?"

I nodded. For once he was making some sense. He looked up at the door and smiled as Loui waddled in. Five months' pregnant, she and Bozza had been going together for the same duration of time. Loui, real name Louisa, was a former drug addict but gave up when she realised she was knocked up. I shuffled over to give her some room to park her bum.

For five minutes we did absolutely nothing, words unexchanged, no sound except for the occasional inhale of the joint being passed around. Everyone seemed lost in their own world. I looked over to Cruddy and saw her with a bottle of wine in her hand, cradling it like a newborn baby. I crinkled my eyebrows at her, and she just smiled at me as if she was the proudest person in the world.

Finally I couldn't take it anymore and got onto my feet. "Bozza, gimme the keys." In a group like this, 'Please' was not in our vocabulary. When our parents would say, 'What's the magic word?' when we asked for something, our word of choice was 'Now'. Yup, an elegant bunch, we were.

"The keys to what?" Bozza asked.

"The keys to the Dragula."

"If you think your arse will be seated anywhere in my car, you've got another think coming, sweetheart!"

"Oh, c'mon, man, I just wanna drive around or a bit."

"Come to think of it, Boz, I feel like a drive too. This place gets stuffy this time of year," Cruddy added, slurring slightly.

Bozza shook his head in a sign of defeat. "If one goes, we all go. I'm driving."

"Well, hang on, I asked if I could drive!" I objected. Bozza groaned and tossed the keys to me. I smiled sweetly at him and raced out the door. There she sat - the Dragula. Didn't look anything like the actual thing, though. A bashed-up old Holden with uncolour-coordinated doors and speakers the size of pizza boxes in the back seat. Not a luxury car by any means, but it was Bozza's prized possession. We all reckoned he stole it, a walk-in garage robbery, but he swears each dollar spent on it came from his own pocket.

Cruddy sat next to me in the front with Bozza squishing in beside her. I glanced in the back to see Loui, Kuta and Ego, their legs tangled up like ropes. Crud opened her mouth to speak but Bozza leaned over to see them, crushing her in the process.

"Loui, you're sitting on the speakers! Nick off!" Loui removed them from under her and sat them on her lap. Bozza turned to me. "Yo, babe, take it easy with the ol' princess, okay?"

"You mean this is just a cruise, not a joyride?"

"I mean save all her energy until we're out of the city. Then we put the pedal to the metal." He smiled then, looking like the Devil Incarnate. Kuta snorted.

"You're a dickhead, mate, did ya know that?" he sneered. I threw my hand behind my seat and thumped him on the shin while trying to start the car. He gave me his famous Death Stare in the rearview mirror. I looked harmless but if you got on my bad side...let's just say you had to be a bloody fast runner.

Finally the Dragula cleared her throat and revved to life. Ego and Kuta erupted with a footy-team-cheer. We pulled onto the road and went on our merry way.

Two minutes into the ride Ego tapped me on the shoulder. I glanced in the mirror at him. "Yeah, mate."

"Keep this between you and me. Do you think Cruddy has the hots for me?"

Cruddy laughed and swung around to face him. "In your dreams!"

"Whoever told you about my dreams, keep them to yourself, toots." Ego winked at her, then turned his attention back to me. "What about Kuta then?"

Kuta's eyebrows shot to the sky. "Get fu-"

"Shit, do I have a microphone pinned on me or something?!"

I smirked. "Don't worry, i'm still remotely fond of you, Ego."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

I let out a high-pitched cry in offense. "Excuse me, mate, but while i'm well aware that i'm no Sporty Spice, I'm deserving of at least a little love and respect!"

Ego paused then sat back in his seat. "Sporty Spice is a cow anyway."

"Aw, get a kennel, would ya?" Cruddy rolled her eyes as she pushed a tape into the desk. 'Hot Chilli Woman' by Noiseworks erupted out of the speakers. Loui jumped to the roof while the rest of us began headbanging and singing - bellowing, rather - as loud as we could.

"Your mama won't like it, your daddy won't like it, hot chilli woman, keep it hot for me, yeah!" As I sang, my head flying everywhere it could while still attached to my neck, Ego grabbed my head and held it still, facing the road.

"Oi, lemme remind you that you're the driver here!" he laughed.

"Sorry, can't help myself!"

"You better learn, love, cause we're on the wrong lane!!"

"Oh shit!!" I swerved the car into the correct lane before the truck could flatten us. Bozza was having a cow on the other side of the Dragula, which set everyone else off. Finally Loui took a bottle of Jim Beam from her six-sizes-too-big jacket, screwed the lid off and took a swig. Cruddy glared with disbelief.

"I thought you said you'd gone clean, you little bitch!"

Loui laughed. "Been there, done that. What was the bitch remark for?"

"Cause you're not sharing!" Crudday snatched the bottle from Loui's hands and helped herself. I tried to stay focused on the road but Crudday shoved the bottle into my mouth and tilted my head back, forcing me to take a drink. I coughed and sputtered, sending bourbon whiskey spilling to the floor.

"Woman, don't ever do that again, y'hear me?" I shouted at her over the unbearably loud music. Kuta glanced at me, then took the bottle and threw it out a window. Cruddy watched him do this with her mouth dropping open, and her eyes filled with the tears as if someone had just told her that she'd lost her best friend.

"KUTA! I needed that bloody drink!" Cruddy screamed, becoming hysterical. I glanced at Bozza and motioned to Cruddy. He got the message and pinned her down to the chair as she tried to advance on Kuta.

"Crud, what the hell's wrong with you?" Bozza asked. "You don't drink this much ever!"

"Piss off, Boz! I can do whatever I want!" As she tried to attack again, Bozza grabbed her, and everyone began screaming at her as I tried to remain focued on the dimly-lit road in front of me. Somehow I had to get her to calm down. Finally i'd had enough and slammed onto the accelerator.

"Kiz, you might wanna slow down there," Ego yelled into my ear, beginning to look worried. I continued speeding up, 105, 110, 115...finally Cruddy took notice and started slapping my arm.

"Slow down! Stop it!! SLOW DOWN!!" she screamed.

"Cruddy, either you sit down and shut the hell up or i'm just gonna keep going faster! Do you want me to slow down? Huh?"

"Yes! Please! Slow down!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

I slammed the brakes down, the tyres squealing in retaliation. Cruddy was thrown into the back seat and her elbow plunged into Loui's stomach. Loui gave a yell like a buffalo, clutching her stomach in agony.

"Aaaaah!! Oh shit!! My guts!!" she shouted.

"What? What happened? Are you okay?" Ego panicked, putting his hand on her stomach. All at once everyone turned and faced her, crowding her except for Cruddy, who sat back and watched helplessly, biting down hard on her finger. I tried to see in the rearview mirror but all I could see were people's backs and bums. Ego held his hands out to my side, covered in blood. They were shaking.

"She's bleeding! Kiz, she's bleeding!"

"WHAT?!" I completely forgot about the road and swivelled around to see. Sure enough, a pool of blood was already beginning to form on the back seat.

"Loui, are you okay? C'mon, talk to me!" I begged, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. I didn't see the bright lights rapidly coming up ahead of us. But Kuta did.

"KIZZA, WATCH THE ROAD!!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. I quickly turned and tried to take control of the wheel. But I didn't even have time to breathe. The lights belonged to the large truck that advanced and finally attacked like a huge beast.

-

It was five days before they released us from the hospital. We were all pretty shaken up. The death toll: Loui...she had a miscarriage and was flung through the windscreen. Kuta...his leg was cut off in the crash, and with internal bleeding, he oozed to death. Cruddy...too gruesome to describe. My best friend, stupid as she was. None of them deserved it. It should've been me. And that kid, Loui's unborn kid. It didn't even have a chance.

Ego, Bozza and I are the only ones. Amazingly we weren't hurt too badly. Bozza has a broken nose and both arms snapped like twigs. Ego copped a crushed pelvis and about twenty stitches in the head. I got away with both legs smashed and my left shoulder dislocated. None of us should really be out of the hospital, but when we asked a patient how to get out, she said, "You just walk, sugar, just walk." So we did.

We're not sticking around, though. We've all dyed our hair, changed our names and caught a bus. Destination: Anywhere.

Ego and I are together now. He wheeled into my hospital room on Day 3...told me it's me he's always loved. At first I was like, "Bull", but now...I don't know. Bozza's not making a claim on the car. Let them try and find the guy who owns the Dragula. Bozza doesn't exist. He's dead. Just like the rest of us.

And now we're here, still on the bus, and you're here listening to our story. Well, you asked us how we got these injuries. Teaches you not to be so nosy.

I know. I'm sorry. I'm just scared. We have nowhere to go. No. We've made up our minds. We're not going back. Let everyone think we're dead. We don't mean nothin' to nobody. We're gutter-trash.

Like I said before...that's what we all are. Gutter-trash. Most of us don't really care what we are, or who we become - as long as we can keep shooting up, we rely on God's good humour to get us through our days.

Adolescence is a bitch.