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INTRODUCTION no way was he allowed to go on the dole. Dino’s suggestion to his parents that he re-take his VCE at an adult education center fell on deaf ears. He had failed high school, and if he wanted to continue living there he had to return to high school and complete what he had failed. With no options of finding anywhere else to live, Dino had no choice.
The school Dino and Katrina had attended did not normally allow students to repeat Year 12, but Salvatore and Maria Stefani were so insistent and persistent that the school made an exception and Dino was back at the place he disliked so much. It was bad enough when Dino was in Year 12 for real but at least he had been through school with these kids and had some friends. Now Dino was stuck going to school with the year group after him, with none of the Class of 1996 there. And were Dino’s new classmates in the Class of 1997 about to give him an easy time? Not a chance in Hell.
At six feet tall with a muscular build and looking several years older than his 19 years, Dino stood out at school like a cow in a china shop. Stories and gossip spread like a bushfire as to why Dino was still at high school, many of them suggesting that it was because Dino was mentally retarded. Dino found himself pelted with paper airplanes, food and water at every opportunity, class-mates making shadow puppets behind Dino’s head when the teachers weren’t looking and sticking ‘kick me’ signs to his back.
One time Dino had fought back against his tormentors, hurling an open carton of chocolate milk at some boys who had chucked a wet tennis ball at his head. Unfortunately, Dino missed the boys but managed to hit the Principal in the chest as the man rounded the corner. A strict disciplinarian just like Dino’s father, the Principal had imposed upon Dino the most humiliating punishment he could think of, one from his old school days. He made up a conical hat out of a piece of paper, wrote ‘DUNCE’ on it in black marker and placed Dino in time out for the day, wearing the hat.
Dino was very angry and things only got worse when the school had a fire drill. Dino was forced to sit on the school oval still wearing the dunce’s hat and everybody laughed at him and gave him shit about it. Even when he got home there was no escape. The Principal called Dino’s father and told him what had happened, and when Mr. Stefani had finished shouting at him Dino was deaf in his right ear for about a week afterwards.
On the tram this afternoon, Dino was sitting in front of three girls in his year group who were playing music – the latest songs from the Spice Girls, the Backstreet Boys and Hanson – loud enough to get on Dino’s nerves. Turning around to face them, he asked, “Could you please turn the music down a bit?”
The three girls laughed and one of them, a pretty 18-year-old blonde trouble-maker called Jessica responding by saying, “Go and get fucked Dino, you pedophile.”
“Yeah Dino, turn around and stop giving us the shits, you child molester,” said one of the friends.
“Are you going to stop on your way home and buy lollies to lure more kids into your van?” asked the other friend, the trio of girls giggling.
Dino fumed. The worst of the stupid stories going around about Dino being 19-years-old and attending high school was that he was a pedophile who had deliberately failed Year 12 so he could stay there and have a wider choice of kids to molest.
“Oh, go and fuck yourselves you stupid bitches,” snapped Dino to the still laughing girls.
The tram pulled in at the stop and the doors opened. The stern-faced tram driver got out of his seat and pointed at Dino. “You – off – now!”
Dino immediately became angry. “Me? What did I do?”
“You were swearing at young girls. You cannot ride this tram using that gutter language.”
“They swore at me first,” Dino protested, but the tram driver was having none of it.
“Get off the tram now, otherwise I’ll call the police. Go on, get!”
The tram driver pointed at the open doors, and the fuming, red-faced Dino collected his school bag and shambled off the tram, cursing and swearing under his breath. The kids and some other passengers on the tram all laughed at him, some of them waving at Dino and blowing kisses at him as the tram almanbahis doors closed, the bell rang and it drew away from the stop.
“This is fucked,” Dino mumbled as he contemplated the fact that he now had a walk of over two kilometers in front of him to get home. The surly and sullen young man had no choice but to begin walking, only casting a single glance over his shoulder to look at the Melbourne city skyline in the background. The city skyscrapers were some distance away but could be clearly made out and Dino wished he was in Melbourne city right now enjoying himself, not here having no fun at all.
Dino turned into the street where his parents lived at Number 8. If a movie or TV show was being produced and required a stereotypical Italian-Australian residence, then the house owned by Mr. and Mrs. Stefani would have been perfect. A flashy double-storey house white house with columns, marble and two ornamental lions on the front entrance to the driveway, two more at the entrance to the front verandah. The inside of the house was pristine – Maria Stefani made sure of this. The outdoors was Salvatore Stefani’s domain, and at this moment Dino’s father was patrolling the front garden like a medieval overlord. The gray-haired, middle-aged man turned to look at his son and regarded him sternly. Dino cursed. It was Wednesday, the day his old man got home from work early. And he would want to know why Dino was late home from school.
“Dino, why are you late home from school today?” Mr. Stefani demanded in his pronounced Italian accent. He had emigrated from Italy years ago, but it sounded like he had caught a flight from Rome to Melbourne’s Tullamarine Airport less than a week ago. Dino and Katrina’s mother was just the same.
Dino of course wasn’t going to tell his father that he got kicked off the tram for swearing at three girls, but struggled to think of something under his father’s withering glare. “I um, thought it would be healthy to walk …” he began, before his father cut him short.
“I not interested, you are lazy slacker Dino, and everything you say is bloody bullshit anyway.”
“Then why did you ask me in the first place?” Dino grumbled, glowering at his father.
“Dino!” boomed Mr. Stefani, the man’s voice audible down the street making it sound like he was talking into a megaphone. “You do not-a answer me back! You have to mow lawn today, you get lawnmower and you do it now.”
“I have to get changed out of my school clothes and go to the toilet,” Dino protested.
“You have five minutes,” said Mr. Stefani. “Then you mow lawn, then you study and I sign your work like I tell your headmaster I do. Why are you not like your sister? Katrina, she study to be lawyer and she come home and do vacuuming to help your mother. She have part time job, and you get fired from yours. Probably even retard do better at any job than you. You are useless, lazy and stupid smart-ass and it is pity your mother and I did not put you up for adoption when you baby.”
Dino’s father had touched on a raw nerve. All along the beautiful, intelligent and talented Katrina had been the apple of both parents’ eyes, and Dino a failure. Besides her high IQ, Katrina had possessed considerable sporting talent and now was in her university’s netball team. Her many trophies decorated the house, but there was plenty of room for them as Dino had none. He might have won a ‘tried hardest’ trophy had he tried, but Dino was more content to brew in his envy of his twin sister rather than work hard at improving at sport himself.
“Yes sir,” was Dino’s insolent response, the young man saluting his father.
“You better watch you step, or I bust-a you ass,” warned Mr. Stefani. He grabbed Dino roughly by the arm and pointed to the house across the road at Number 9. “You see that house, you end up like idiots who live there if you carry on like you do now. You want to be loser all your life?”
Dino looked at Number 9. While it might appear to a casual observer that his loser son Dino might be the one thing in the street that annoyed Mr. Stefani more than anything else, they would be wrong. The residents of Number 9 trumped Dino for angering the bad-tempered Mr. Stefani.
Number 9 was a double story house which did not almanbahis adres stand out one bit from the other houses on the street, until 18 months ago when the man who lived there for years died and a group of young people – three men and three women – purchased the house. They were quiet and for the most part kept to themselves, but their unusual artistic lifestyle raised the ire of the neighbors, not least Mr. Stefani.
The first project after moving in was to repaint the exterior house, and now instead of the traditional cream and mission brown paintwork it had sported before the house was now painted bright purple. The tiles were now lime green color, the garage doors orange, the window sills bright blue, the front porch lemon and the front door bright red. This was the first incident to anger Mr. Stefani.
Dino did not really know the relationships of the six people who lived there. The three young guys ran a landscaping business, presumably a successful one given how busy they appeared all the time. One of the guys named Matt Dennis seemed to be in charge of this operation, but Dino could never remember the names of the other two guys. Dino’s dad hated their truck, constantly complaining that the large vehicle was both an eyesore and noisy, but he would probably have complained if they owned a shining Rolls Royce.
Of the three young women who also lived the house two had very much alternative, left-wing, hippie type appearances and Dino could never remember their names either. Dino wasn’t sure how they filled their days, but they went out most of the time so presumably they had some type of employment.
The third girl who lived at the house was slightly younger than the others, and Matt’s younger sister. Her name was Savannah Dennis, and she was a slim and especially pretty blonde with long slightly wavy hair, big blue eyes and fair skin. Savannah was far more mainstream than the other five residents. She worked a full-time job wearing ordinary clothes one would wear to an office, and would leave for work driving her small hatchback car. Even on the weekend Savannah would dress more mainstream, and apart from a tie-dyed tee-shirt, Dino could not recall her wearing any hippie or artistic type clothing. This contrasted from the other two young women, who Dino never saw driving and who always looked like hippies.
Dino had no idea how old Savannah actually was, he assumed about 24 or 25 nor did he know her occupation. They had occasionally said hello in passing and that was it. Dino initially thought a pretty girl like Savannah would be sure to have a boyfriend, but he had never seen her with a guy. Given the problems with Dino’s father and to a lesser degree Dino’s mother, neither Savannah nor the other people at Number 9 were going to be best friends with the Stefani family.
In addition to the interesting paint job given to the house, the new owners had changed the front garden to look like the Australian bush and the back garden into a vegetable garden, although they kept the swimming pool in the back yard. Both gardens were filled with sculptures, constructed from junk collected by the three guys and assembled on the weekends. Among the sculptures were a large green frog and a crocodile that overlooked the pool, a red back spider up one of the trees, a tyrannosaurus and a ten foot tall clown, both of which stood in the front garden staring across the road at the Stefani house.
Mr. Stefani was outraged by the combination of a cross between a hippie commune, an alternate modern art gallery and a market garden across the road from his house. He and his wife had spent hours complaining to the council about the property and trying to rally the other neighbors against the alternate new arrivals.
But to the dismay of Dino’s father, there was nothing the authorities could do. The property was compliant with all regulations, there were no problems with noise or anti-social behavior and while there would have been a problem if the sculptures had been part of an art gallery and therefore used to carry on an enterprise, they were not so therefore nothing could be done.
Despite this, Mr. Stefani hadn’t given up on making problems for the arty neighbors, and would watch them with binoculars during almanbahis giriş his spare time, a diary close handy to note down any indiscretions that he could take to the council or other authorities. So therefore, the road that separated the two houses was somewhat like the border between North and South Korea.
Dino couldn’t be fucked listening to his father’s rants about the neighbors, so said nothing and went inside the house, making his way upstairs to first his bedroom then the toilet, his bladder feeling close to bursting. Unfortunately, his twin sister Katrina was also home, studying like a good girl in her bedroom when she also felt the call of nature.
Katrina, a slim and pretty girl much shorter in stature than her brother had stunning Italian looks of perfect olive skin, big brown eyes and long brown hair, primly tied back in a pony-tail. Katrina’s nice teenage figure was accentuated by the knee-length flowery skirt she wore with a white tee-shirt, her feet bare.
The brother and sister reached the toilet door at the same moment and glared at each other.
“Come on Katrina, I really have to go,” Dino complained.
“Yeah, but I was first,” countered Katrina.
“I only need to have a piss, I’ll be 20 seconds at most. What do you need to go to the toilet for?”
Katrina’s pretty face showed prissy indignation. “It’s none of your business, Dino.”
“Yeah, but I’m still first,” argued Dino.
“No, you know the rules, I use the bathroom before you,” said Katrina. “Use Mum and Dad’s bathroom.”
“You use their bathroom.”
The twins stood at a stand-off, neither willing to budge an inch. When Dino and Katrina were small children, their mother had often placed them in front of a popular educational kids’ TV show from America set on a fictional New York street to keep them occupied. But somehow, it seemed that Dino and Katrina had missed seeing any of the episodes that discussed ‘cooperation’ as these siblings would fight any issue like cat and dog, neither of them willing to compromise on anything big or small.
Maria Stefani emerged from her bedroom. “What’s going on out here?” she demanded sternly, like her husband having retained a strong Italian accent despite living in Australia for many years.
Katrina put on an innocent look. “Mum, I really need to go to the toilet and Dino’s bothering me.”
“Dino, you leave Katrina alone and step away from that door,” ordered Maria. Dino trembled with rage and resentment. Of course their mother had sided with Katrina again. She always did, as did their father. Katrina was the princess and Dino the peasant in this house.
“Thanks Mum,” said Katrina, putting her innocent smile on her face just designed to get on Dino’s nerves as she went into the toilet and closed and locked the door behind herself.
“How many times do we tell you, you do not bother and embarrass your sister,” Maria scolded her son. “You are bad boy Dino, very bad boy and unless you change your ways and grow up, God will punish you for your sin. You wait and see.”
Dino glowered at his mother. “So, can I use your bathroom then?”
“No!” shouted Maria. “Your Nonna is in there taking soak in Roman bath to help her arthritis. Of course you cannot go in there. You selfish boy Dino, selfish, selfish, selfish! You wait here for your sister, okay?”
Maria went downstairs and Dino mumbled and grumbled under his breath as he waited for his sister outside the toilet door. He had heard Katrina peeing when she first went in there – not that he obviously wanted to hear his sister urinating, far from it – and hoped she would finish soon. But Katrina was one of those girls who was always going to the toilet, and who always took ages to finish. So Dino had to wait and wait and wait while he felt like pissing his pants, listening to Katrina advancing the toilet roll intermittently.
Inside the lavatory, Katrina sat on the toilet with her skirt hitched up around her waist and her white cotton bikini-style panties with pink waist and leg elastic down around her ankles, her bare feet poking out underneath. Katrina’s knees were together, but the teenager had quite a large triangle of dark brown, curly pubic hair over her feminine mound, so some of these hairs were visible. The girl was quite aware of her brother waiting outside with increasing urgency and was content to take her own sweet time. Each time Katrina unwound toilet paper she would carefully and slowly and carefully fold it so she took longer and longer and longer.
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