Puberty Blues (8 page)

AS I was turning fourteen, Brandivino went out and marijuana came in. At last, what everyone had been looking for. Something to do every Friday and Saturday night. We spent all our time buying, selling, smoking and searching for the green weed. Our parents' phone bills went up and garden hoses got shorter.

We smoked the dope in a bong. This is a kind of peace pipe made from a milk bottle with two bits of garden hose stuck in the neck. You stuffed one hose with marijuana, lit it, and dragged furiously on the other. Garden hoses all over Sylvania started shrinking. If we didn't bong it, we smoked it in a joint.

A joint was like a bar of gold. It was ‘in', it was illegal and none of the nurds at school smoked it. The best thing you could say about someone was that they were ‘really out of it'.

‘Should've seen Cheryl at Taren Point dance. She was so whacked.'

‘Should've seen
me
! I was so out of it, I couldn't hardly walk. I was just sittin' there and they turned them lights on, you know them purple ones? Oh, and it just freaked me.'

‘Deadset.'

‘Yeah, deadset. Then the fog machine came on. And I roolly freaked out. Strack kept sayin' “What's wrong?” and shakin' me but I couldn't talk …'

‘Deadset?'

‘Yeah, I roolly freaked. Then Jacko come up, you know Jack? … and he says to me, “Your eyes look ratshit.”'

That was the biggest compliment.

‘No bull?'

‘No bull.'

‘Watcha Mum say when you went home?'

‘Oh, I walked in, and me eyes were roole bloodshot, and she said, “Wot's that funny smell?” and I jest said it was incense.'

‘She believe ya?'

‘Yeah, the Stan.
^*
Then she asked me if I wanted a piece of pizza, and I bust out laughin' and I just couldn't stop, and then me father said, “What's she on?” Oh, it was so heavy man, I jest couldn't handle it.'

Smoking dope gave us something to do with the
boys. It was something to share with them. We still sat around on fences and cuddled in cupboards not talking, but at least it turned us on. It made eating, music and fucking better than before.

 

The gang began to grow up. Now all the boys had cars and some of the girls were at typing school. We bought better clothes, took longer to get ready, had our hair styled and got bigger, browner, broader, blonder boyfriends.

Garry started to change, too. He stopped coming down so often and sometimes forgot to ring me up. When I did see him, he was quiet and far away. I'd hold his hand but he never wanted to kiss or cuddle me. He was looking scraggy, too;
I
had to brush his hair. Mum didn't like him any more and then Dave told me that he wasn't surfing. It wasn't until much later I realised he was scagged-out on heroin.

 

Wayne Wright had a car and a job. He'd even been in
Tracks
and won surfing competitions. I wanted someone new and he'd been cracking on to me. I sadly added Garry's ring to my collection.

It was Friday afternoon. Double maths, Mr Berkoff was out the front waving his rod and throwing chalk.

‘The logarithms of the tangents are equivalent to the Pythagorean theory of A squared plus B squared equals C squared … What was you answer for this Deborah …
Deborah?
'

‘Hmm?'

‘You're not paying attention.'

‘Um.'

‘Watch yourself, girlie.'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘If you don't want to listen you can go outside.'

I crossed my legs and stared at the blackboard and went on daydreaming.

It was almost Friday night. Half an hour to bell time. We were going out tonight. Wayne was picking me up at seven. I didn't know where we were going or what we were doing … but we were going out. My underpants moistened at the idea. I looked at my watch. Twenty-five minutes to go.

‘Sue?'

‘Mmmm.'

She was doodling Danny's name all over her pencil case.

‘Whadaya wearing tonight?'

‘I dunno.' She looked up, worried. ‘I just haven't got a thing.'

‘I'm wearing m' blue bogarts.'

‘Ya new ones?'

‘Yeah.'

‘I don't know what to do … I wore m' Lees last week and m' Californians, you know the ones with the double stitching, well they're in the wash.'

‘What about ya green ones?'

‘I wore them
last
Friday night.'

‘Oh.'

‘Listen … Can I borrow your blue angora? … I won't …'

‘
Deborah
and
Susan!
' We stiffened. ‘Didn't I tell you two last week not to sit together?'

‘Ah … No, sir.'

‘Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes. Next time I'd like to see you
here
… and you
there
!' He pointed to opposite sides of the room and threw a piece of chalk at us for emphasis. We ducked. It hit Mike Murphy in the eye.

‘Oh,
si-ir-ir!
' He shrieked indignantly.

‘All eyes to the front.'

Ten minutes to go.

Making out I was doing my trigonometry examples, I wrote and passed a note to Sue.

‘You can wear it. Wayne is getting a deal of hash. Got any cigarettes for the bus?' it said.

Brring
! At last. Quarter past three. Sue pulled the Marlboro out of her pencil case. A flood of adrenalin shot through her. It was Friday night.

‘You're not wearing that old thing are you?' my mother asked me. ‘At least give it an iron.'

‘Yes, Mum.'

Wayne was coming in ten minutes. I was all ready. I'd washed my hair. Put on my mascara. Shaved my legs. Dabbed a drop of perfume in the crotch of my underpants and rubbed on Cloud Nine cream to soften the skin on my stomach.

‘Make sure that boy brings you home not a stroke over midnight.'

‘Yes, Mum.'

‘And tell him not to go over thirty miles an hour.'

‘Yes, Mum.'

‘And behave yourself.'

‘Yes, Mum.'

We were off at last. Eight of us in the Holden. I was next to Wayne, who was driving, with my hand on his thigh. There was Tracey, Johnno, Kim, Dave, Sue and Danny.

We drove to a vacant lot in Waratah Street.

‘Where we goin'?' asked Dave.

‘Dunno,' said Johnno.

‘We'll blow a joint first.' Wayne turned off the ignition.

Out came the hash from the glove box.

‘Anyone got any Drum?'

‘Here yar.'

Wayne mixed it on the street directory; burning the hash and breaking it into the tobacco. He rolled a mean joint. ‘Give us the matches.'

The Holden was soon filled with sweet-smelling smoke. The joint was passed across the front seat, along the back seat and back into the front seat. We all took three huge drags each and then passed it on. And then another joint would be doing the circuit and another, and another.

‘
Ey
! Don't bogart
^*
it Johnno.' Johnno was a hog.

‘Oh, handle it …'

‘That's ya fourth hit, man.'

He passed it on. The joints went round in silence.

Two hours later we were still sitting in a vacant lot in Waratah Street.

‘Whada we gonna do now?' asked Johnno, breaking the heavy silence.

Wayne lit up his fortieth cigarette. Everyone watched him pull out the ashtray. He looked at Dave and replied, ‘I dunno.'

An hour later, Wayne wound down the window, and asked, ‘Well, what are we gonna do now?'

Ten minutes later, Tracey squeaked, ‘I dunno,' and wound up the window.

‘Why don't we blow another joint?' suggested Danny from the smoky depths of the back seat.

And so, we passed the hours, in stoned silence, sucking on one soggy joint after another, gazing out at the beautiful sight of yet another half-built block of red brick home units.

‘Whada we gonna do now?' asked Dave, after we'd blown half a deal.

‘I got the munchies sumfin' severe,' said Johnno.

‘Maybe we should get some eats, eh?'

‘Whadaya reckon?' asked Wayne, his hand on the ignition.

‘I dunno.'

‘I don't mind.'

‘Whatever yews wanna do.'

We drove off to Roberto's Pizza Hut in Caringbah. We all staggered in, bloodshot-eyed, vague, cool and stoned out of our heads, hoping someone would see us.

‘Well, whada you gonna get?' asked Dave.

‘I dunno …'

‘Whataya gonna get?' asked Danny.

‘I dunno …'

Kim asked me, ‘Are you gonna get anything?'

‘I dunno … are you?'

‘I dunno … I will if you do …'

‘Um … No,' I lied, my stomach growling ferociously, ‘I'm not hungry.'

Skinniness was next to godliness.

Danny ordered a thick-shake and a Carbonossi Special. Wayne got a King Prawn De-Luxe, Johnno got Mushroom and Cheese Delight and Dave hogged himself on four double cheeseburgers. We girls smoked cigarettes in silence while the boys ripped in with greasy fingers and dripping mouths. Then it was eleven thirty. Late enough to go home. Wayne pashed me off and I got out of the car. I couldn't wait to run up the driveway and had to relieve myself behind the camellia bush.

‘Phew.'

Now! I stood panting before the fridge. Out came
the sponge cake. The vanilla ice cream. The caramel sauce. One on top of the other. After three huge bowlfuls and a Chocolate Monte, I staggered up to bed and crashed.

It was Monday morning, a few minutes before bell time. We girls clamoured around the heater in the maths room, brushing our hair, pulling up our pantyhose, picking off our split ends and gossiping.

‘Didja go out on Friday night?' asked Gail, warming her bottom on the heater.

‘Yeah! Didn't get home till twelve thirty!'

‘No bull? Whatja mum say?'

‘Oh nuffin'. Lend us ya brush will ya?'

‘Yeah. Wadja do?'

‘Wayne had this unroole hash—we just got so stoned.'

‘Yeah?'

‘Yeah. Ripped. Saw Darren Peters, Jacko, Strack …'

Bbrringg!

‘All right girls. Back to your desks. Books out.'

Gail and I sat together. Sue had to sit next to a nurd on the other side of the room.

‘Gee, wish I was allowed out …'

‘Yeah, it was unroole,' I said, copying down Gail's homework answers. ‘Can't wait till next Friday night.'

IT was the same old story of getting all dressed up and having nowhere to go. We were one step further than a year ago, because now we had nowhere to go in a car. That's why nearly every young Australian girl gets deflowered in a car. That's the only place there is. At least we knew Dad wouldn't walk in any minute. At least, not many dads …

One night back when we were thirteen, down Panel Van Point, Cronulla—the deflowering capital of southern Sydney—a distraught father made the rounds. He shone his torch into the backs of all the bouncing panel vans searching desperately for his daughter.

It was Sue and Danny's turn in the back, while Bruce and I sat in the front seat, checking out the midnight swells. Suddenly a beam of light revealed all.

Susan squealed, ‘It's the pigs!' and groped frantically for her bra.

‘Carolyn, is that you? Carolyn?' The light fell full on her face and then flickered away. Bruce parted the purple curtains and cried out after him, ‘Fuck off, you old perv!' But he was already inspecting the next parked panel van.

‘Phew,' gasped Danny, re-mounting, ‘I thought that was the fuzz.'

I always lay in terror in the back of the van, waiting for the police to catch me. They made regular raids on the parked panel vans at Cronulla Point. They hauled the girls out of the back to check how old they were. They'd even caught Sandra Riley one night. They'd taken her down to the police station, rung her parents and then she disappeared to a girl's home in Parramatta.

I kept my shoes and socks on—just in case. Lucky Sue and I never got caught because we were three years under the age of consent.

But there was nowhere for us kids to go. We couldn't go to a friend's place, because we were so stoned and their parents would see us. Besides that, the record player was always in the lounge and the whole family would be in there watching
Homicide
or
Hawaii Five-0
. So we all got stoned and sat around in the car, until we got hungry enough to go and get something to eat. Then we'd go and hang out at the Pizza Hut, Ma Brown's greasy milk bar, or the Arizona.

That's why it was so great when someone's parents
went out. Just to have somewhere to sit around and drink coffee and watch television. Just to have somewhere to listen to music and cuddle up and relax … even though we were always waiting for the headlights to turn into the driveway.

For a while there we all went down to Cheryl's on Saturday nights. Her parents were
always
out. I rang her and used the code:

‘Is it off-shore?'

‘Off-shore' meant her parents were out and ‘on-shore' meant they were home.

There was plenty of food. Lots of music and a pool. We all sat around the lounge watching TV, smoking joints and eating cheese on toast. After the third joint, things got horny. Sue was on Danny's knee in the middle of the armchair, kissing passionately. Cheryl and Gull were stretched out on the lounge, his hand disappearing into her blouse. Wayne and I were lying on the carpet, half under the stereo which was blaring out ‘Close to the Edge' by Yes. That was the in record to play when you were stoned before Cheech and Chong came along.

We had the TV on with the sound turned down and the stereo up full blast. When things got horny and uncomfortable enough, you'd disappear with your partner and go to find an empty bedroom. You didn't just get up and leave though. You had to be cool. You waited until the record needed changing or the dog needed letting out or you wanted a glass of water.
While you were out of the room, you'd pretend it suddenly struck you, ‘While I'm up, I wouldn't mind a root.'

I'd started to really enjoy sex now. It was the only thing I had to look forward to.

Wayne led me down the stairs, past the pool, and into the rumpus room. He locked the door. We used to start on the floral night-and-day but always ended up on the floor.

‘Let's try a backwards one.'

‘Er,' I said. If I rolled over he'd see my bare bottom.

‘It's great. Dave and Johnno said it's great.'

‘Okay …'I rolled over hesitantly. ‘But I don't know what to do.'

‘It's all right.' He eased cushions under my abdomen.

Finally Wayne said, ‘I'm done.'

‘Okay.' It was about time to go up for another joint.

‘Give it to me,' I stretched out my hand.

‘What?'

‘You know?'

‘I haven't got it.'

‘Well, I haven't got it.'

‘Where can it be?'

‘Gord, I dunno.'

‘Well, we'll have to look for it.'

Half naked, we started crawling all over the rumpus room floor. Under the night-and-day. Behind the bar. I even looked behind the piano.

‘I can't find it,' I whispered, worried.

‘Turn on the light.'

Then I couldn't find the light switch. Eventually we stumbled upon a lamp.

‘It's just disappeared … You sure you haven't got it?' I was half under the night-and-day, checking and re-checking. I must have lifted up every cushion in that room twenty times. I had horrible visions of Mrs Nolan doing the vacuuming and coming across a soggy, spermy, screwed up plastic thing. I imagined her picking it up and showing it to her husband; then realising what it was and washing her hands.

We had to give it up. It was just nowhere.

It downed on me in the kitchen …

‘I can feel something.' Wayne looked at me. I looked at him. He looked back at his cheese toastie. I went to the bathroom. It had been inside the whole time. Things had got so frantic it had fallen off.

‘That's the last time I'm using one of those bloody things,' Wayne groaned.

 

A few weeks later I was pregnant.

I didn't know I was until one morning I felt really sick.

‘I feel sick, Mum.'

‘Do you want a day in bed, dear?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Do you want some Vegemite on toast and a cup of tea?'

‘Nu.'

‘All right. Look after yourself. Bye now.'

She'd just gone out the door when I desperately wanted to do a pee. Then it happened. It all came out like watery, underset jelly. I flushed it away.

There were certain laws in Sylvania Heights about getting pregnant. We had three ways of trying to get rid of it. You could ride your horse bare-back. Cheryl was always galloping Randy, unsaddled, around the football field. You could get Steve Strachan to punch you in the lower stomach. His friends would hold you while he took aim. It never worked. Some chicks were lucky enough to miscarry but usually you had to tell your father. I could
never
have told mine. Thank God I didn't have to. But it scared me enough to tell Sue. I don't know how Tracey and the other top chicks handled it alone. We went to the doctor's together.

I used Wayne's last name, and put my age up. He knew I was lying and treated me like a slut. The chemist knew I was lying, too. He didn't even put the pill packet in a paper bag. Just as he was handing it to me, Mrs Dixon and Auntie Pam walked in. Sue and I ran home and I hid it in the back of my underpants drawer. Even though it was such a hassle, Sue decided to go on the pill, too.