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But we hates it, precious—the sadness, yeh? Them girls, some’s forced, some’s lost. Saw one cryin’ once, mascara runnin’ like black rivers—felt proper sick. “You don’t know me!” Mia’d say, an’ I reckon that prossie’d say it too. Made me wanna smash somethin’, or hug ‘er, dunno. World’s a cesspit, innit?

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Then, I get another call. This time, it’s a lady from Corso Umberto. She’s yelling about her neighbor’s music. “It’s like a disco in here!” she says. I’m like, “Lady, it’s Monte Sant Angelo, not Ibiza!” But hey, I get it. Sometimes you just wanna chill with some peace and quiet, ya know?

Year 9 Students Consider What Would Catherine Do?