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he’d replaced the little rubber band on his braces.
    “Sorry I yelled at you,” he said and rode off.

C H A P TE R 9
    Mr MacDonald, who was looking in the employment columns less and talking about the play more, had asked the cultural studies class to work out what scenes they wanted to use from the play’s first act. He wasn’t getting much response.
    “When do we get to the battle scene?”
    “Shut up, Jesus. The battle scene’s last.”
    Mr MacDonald continued, “Richard has to get everybody who’s in line to be king out of the way. So he’s got to kill his two brothers and King Edward’s sons, the little princes.”
    Mr MacDonald continued to go through the play line by line, but after twenty minutes the others had lost interest.
    “Okay. It’s time we started casting,” he said. “I think everyone will get into this a lot more if they know who they’re going to play.”
    There was a murmur of approval.
    “So who wants to take the part of Richard?”
    “Richard is such a horrible person,” Velvet said, not really helping the casting process. “He’s mean to everybody. He tricks Lady Anne into liking him even though he killed her husband. And he looks creepy.”
    Mr MacDonald agreed. “He’s probably the most hated king in British history.”
    “No wonder,” Peter said.
    “It’s a great part.”
    A rare silence settled over the cultural studies class.
    Velvet broke the silence. “I think Drago should play Richard.”
    “Thanks.”
    “I just think the role would suit you.”
    “Because I’m the most hated kid at Yarrabank?”
    “That’s not what I meant. But you do have a chip on your shoulder.”
    “Me? You’re the one who’s always moaning about how it was better at your old school, wishing things were how they used to be. You play Richard!”
    Velvet was about to argue the point, but Mr MacDonald cut in.
    “We’ll audition,” he said. “Peter, you go first. Read some of the soliloquy – the opening bit.”
    Peter read quite well. Taleb read in a boring monotone. When it came to Drago’s turn, he struggled and stumbled over the unfamiliar words.
    “I don’t want to read this crap,” he said and stormed out of the room. This time he slammed the door so hard that pots of paint teetered and basketballs were dislodged from their pile and bounced all over the room.
    “You’re right, Velvet,” Mr MacDonald said. “He’s perfect.”
    “He’ll never agree.” Peter said. “You could have been a bit more subtle, Velvet.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You practically said, ‘You’re ugly, you’re mean, the part’s yours’.”
    “That’s not what I said.”
    “Drago can’t have the main part,” Roula said. “Seriously. He can’t read normal books.”
    “He doesn’t have to read. He just has to remember.”
    “Peter was better,” Hailie said.
    “How can you have a Vietnamese king of England?”
    “It’s the performance that’s important, Jesus,” Mr MacDonald said. “What do the rest of you think?”
    “Peter’s not right for the part.” Hailie looked at Peter with what she probably thought was a seductive smile. “He’s too good-looking.”
    “Drago’s angry with the world just like Richard,” Velvet said. “It has to be him.”
    Everyone agreed.
    “Someone better find Drago,” Peter said, “and break the news to him.”
    “I’ll go,” Velvet volunteered.
    She found Drago smoking under a tree and sat down next to him.
    “We all want you to have the lead role.”
    “You mean no one else wants to play Richard because he’s such a creep.”
    “You’ve got the right edge to play him, Drago. You can be mean and angry and you’ve got … an attitude.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Peter hasn’t got a mean bone in his body, Taleb can’t act and Jesus is a total jock. It has to be you, doesn’t it?”
    “Like I said, no one else want’s to do it.”
    “It’s not like you’ve got anything more important to do on Thursday afternoons. You said