Читать книгу A Thousand Water Bombs - T. M. Alexander - Страница 17

three days until the swap shop

We were all hanging around by the gates before school, except Copper Pie.

‘Have you ever known Copper Pie be late? asked Fifty.

I thought about it. ‘No,’ I said.

‘Never,’ said Bee.

‘He’s probably trying to avoid the water bomb production line,’ said Fifty.

‘Has he even done one?’ I asked.

‘Don’t think so,’ said Fifty.

‘How many are ready?’ asked Bee.

I looked at Fifty to see if he knew. His face was blank, so I answered. ‘About . . . four hundred?’

‘So will you finish in time?’

‘We will if we bribe some more kids,’ said Fifty.

‘I’ll help,’ said Bee. ‘You will too, won’t you, Jonno?’

‘If I have to, but I’m going to make a lip shield first so I don’t end up like them.’

He pointed at me and Fifty. Our lips had stopped bleeding but they were still a peculiar dark red colour, like we’d been gnawing raw meat.

Thanks to Bee’s organisation, at lunchtime there were four Tribers (no Copper Pie – off sick according to Miss Walsh), three of the Year 5s from the day before (two were off sick, probably with lesser-known lip fever, and one had given up) and three new ones. In between bombs she told us how much stuff she’d already collected for the Give and Take, and how many kids had told her they were bringing cool things to swap.

‘Don’t forget we’ve got to go back to that lady who said she’d sort through her rubbish,’ said Jonno (Swap Stall Deputy).

‘Let’s go after school,’ said Bee. ‘And then I need to do some cleaning. Some people are really disgusting – there’s chewing gum on the French horn.’ Something sticky from someone else’s mouth – yuck.

BEST ITEMS

Boomerang

French horn

Heart-shaped hot water bottle with no stopper

Mini darts set

Car seat with sticky patches

Set of skittles

New red and yellow stripy tights

Half of a pair of crutches

A typewriter

Pair of snow boots

Fruit bowl

An old-fashioned pram

‘But what about the meeting?’ I said. (It was Wednesday.)

‘Let’s postpone,’ said Bee. ‘Too much to do before Saturday.’

‘Let’s have a meeting after the summer fair instead,’ said Jonno.

‘Good idea, in the Tribehouse with cakes,’ I said, remembering the fantastic marshmallow cupcakes Bee made to bribe the Alley Cat girls, ages ago when Tribe was new.

‘Same,’ said Fifty.

‘There’s no time to make any,’ said Bee. Shame!

‘I’ll get Mum to buy some,’ said Fifty.

Water bombs waiting in the art room, ready to burst, a pile of treasures in Bee’s garage, ready to swap, and a tray of cakes waiting in the Tribehouse, ready to eat. It was all going too well . . .