The Crush by Scott Monk Page A

the shoulders and shaking him excitedly. ‘What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t make it.’
    â€˜What? And let you have all the babes? No way!’
    â€˜Tell me about it! I’ve never seen so many good-looking women in my life. It’s a fantasy come true.’
    â€˜Then you must be still dreaming if you think any of these babes will pick you instead of me!’
    Hazem laughed and grabbed Matty in a headlock. They mucked around before the squash of the crowd forced them apart.
    â€˜How’s it going, Rhino?’ Matt asked.
    Arms folded, the big Maori grunted then turned back to the stage. One grunt was good. Two grunts meant check the family insurance was paid up.
    â€˜Hey Grover, what’s with the frown?’
    He snorted. ‘I just saw my girlfriend kissing a Princes boy.’
    â€˜You’re kidding.’
    He wasn’t.
    â€˜Forget about her, mate,’ Chris said. ‘It’s the second time she’s cheated on you.’
    â€˜Don’t worry. I’m cool. She won’t be tomorrow when she finds out her new man recently suffered from severe glandular fever.’
    Ha-ha! The guys crowed at that one.
    The five of them were great friends. Hazem was a real lad. A Lebanese kid, he loved showing off to the girls, smart-mouthing rich kids, mimicking Robert De Niro, drooling over muscle cars and hanging outby the pool during summer. He was the only son out of four children, and really family orientated. He never let anyone badmouth his parents, sisters or relatives. To his mates he was known as The Rocket because of his ability to launch himself from one side of the footy field to the other in seconds flat.
    When he wasn’t plotting revenge, Steve Evans was the Grover. He got his nickname from the same Sesame Street character he’d loved as a kid. When he was nine years old, Chris had a costume party where everyone had to come as their favourite TV character. Steve picked Grover. He dyed his hair blue, painted his nose pink and wore blue sheep-skin covers as fur. When he arrived at Chris’ place and rang the doorbell, he was in for a shock. The costume party had been cancelled and everyone came wearing normal clothes. Except no one had told Steve. The kids laughed at him for hours. That was until Melissa Butterworth found him crying in a corner, cheered him up and said he looked kind of cute in his costume. Lucky guy. He experienced his first kiss that day and laughed at his mates for many years afterwards.
    And then there was Rhino. One hundred and eighty-one centimetres tall at just fifteen, he was solid muscle. A Maori with thick skin, a big nose anda hard head, he played centre for the Mongrels and blitzed any opponent who dared stand in front of him. He didn’t say much and nobody could remember when he started tagging along with Chris and the guys. But when Rhino wanted to hang out, an arsenal of tranquillisers couldn’t stop him.
    The crowd went psychotic again as another band took control of the stage. It was one of Matt’s favourites. Jumping up and down, he started thrashing on his air guitar. Chris, Hazem and Grover broke up laughing before joining in, while Rhino looked on with indifference.
    They only stopped when Chris suggested they brave the mosh pit again. All agreed, except Rhino, who stubbornly stayed put.
    Chris and Hazem plunged into the mosh pit first, followed by Grover and then Matt. Laughing like a loon, Matt rode over the crowd farther out than before. The world was out of control. He loved it!
    Four hands grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him down. He tried resisting but he was sucked under. With a thud, he collapsed spine-first onto the ground. Shaking off the pain, he stretched to his feet—and faced Aaron Blackwell.
    â€˜Nice fall?’ Aaron asked.
    â€˜What did you do that for, huh?’
    â€˜I want to talk to you.’
    â€˜Sorry, but I can’t hear you above all the music!