Читать книгу The Day the Ear Fell Off - T.M. Alexander - Страница 9

day one of the summer term

You never know what’s round the corner. My mum says that all the time.

When I was small, I used to think she was giving me a warning. I thought she meant that you should watch out in case you turn a corner and get caught up in the middle of an army of purple aliens clambering back on to the mother ship, and disappear FOREVER. Even though I thought it was unlikely, I would find myself slowing down e v e r s o s l i g h t l y at corners until I had a proper view ahead. As soon as I saw the coast was clear, I’d speed up again. I don’t do that now of course, because I understand she means that you never know what’s going to happen next. It’s not about luck or un-luck because Mum says it when someone’s won the lottery and when someone’s died. It’s just a fact.

And the fact of my story is that something’s come round my corner and all of a sudden I’m part of it, and it feels important, so I’m keeping a record of how it started.

Actually it began with a kind of alien – a new boy. I expect our teacher (she’s called Miss Walsh) introduced him and told us to be nice and all that, but if she did, I didn’t take any of it in. Don’t get the wrong idea, I’m actually a bit of a nerd, but I only listen to the interesting bits. The in-between stuff that teachers like to say but I don’t need to hear gets separated off and binned, like junk mail. I don’t even know where Newboy sat that first morning, except that it wasn’t anywhere near me.

At break my mates and I raced outside to get on with whatever it was we were going to get on with. Our territory is in the corner by the netball court where the trees hang over. It’s a scrubby bit of dirt really – the shade kills all the grass – but it’s ours so it’s good anyway.

There are four of us. I’m Keener. There’s Copper Pie (funny name, I know). Next there’s Fifty and, last but definitely not least, there’s Bee. (Not a cool thing to admit but yes, I am friendly with a girl.)

The four of us didn’t exactly choose to be mates. But when you’ve known someone since you were four years old, they sort of stick whether you like it or not.

It was sticking that I first remember us doing. Fifty’s mum had come in to school to help us make papier-mâché balloons. Bad idea. Fifty’s too-sloppy newspaper kept sliding off. Copper Pie burst at least three balloons by pressing too hard. Bee knocked over the glue diving to save the slippery balloons. By tidy-up time, there was more goo on them than anywhere else. (None on me though – I borrowed the yellow rubber gloves meant for wash-up time because I didn’t like it.) I remember all the laughing and thinking that school was nice, which it was in Reception.

We’ve been put in the same classes ever since and never bothered to make any other friends. We don’t need anyone else.

We especially didn’t need anyone else in our patch. At breaktime Fifty was the last of us to step under the tree, followed by someone else. The sun stopped me seeing who it was. I wasn’t worried. Other kids are allowed to come and talk to us, although hardly anyone does. But as the boy-shape moved forwards into the shadows, I could see it wasn’t someone I knew. And strangers were NOT welcome. Without saying anything, we all turned away and tried to carry on as usual, but he didn’t leave. We could all feel him watching us.

Copper Pie spoke first. ‘D’you want something?’

The shape shrugged.

He tried again. ‘I said, “D’you want something?”’

‘Not especially,’ said the shape.

‘Go away then.’

We’re not meant to speak to people like that at school. There’s a motto: We don’t all have to be friends, but we all have to be friend-ly.

‘I’m fine here,’ said the stranger, who I worked out must be Newboy.

I really wanted to get rid of him but I didn’t know what to do. Most people we know would have scuttled away if Copper Pie told them to. (He can be a bit of a thug.)

Fifty tried next. ‘Listen, you’re new so you don’t know, but this is our area.’ He used the I’m-so-charming smile that works with the teachers. He practises it in front of the mirror, in every window, and on the back of shiny spoons.

‘Says who?’ said Newboy.

‘Says me,’ said Fifty, looking straight into Newboy’s armpit.

I could see that a midget telling him to get lost wasn’t going to work. But Newboy seemed so unbothered it was difficult to think what would work.

Bee put one hand on her hip, pointed at the stranger and tried her favourite saying – with the American accent and all the actions.

‘You’re invading our personal bubble.’ She drew an imaginary line round the four of us with her finger, then put her hand back on her hip and flicked her very long black fringe out of her eyes so she could stare at him.

He shrugged and stayed exactly where he was.

And so did we.

We hung around and talked in quiet voices but it was totally fake because all the time HE was leaning against the trunk of OUR tree working his heel into the ground, making a hollow. I’m sure all the others felt like me: mad. I wanted to shout ‘Go away’ but I didn’t dare.

Usually break is too short but on that day it was too long. We couldn’t leave our patch and play somewhere else because we had to protect it. We couldn’t carry on as normal because of him lurking. I suppose we could have shoved him off but me and Fifty aren’t like that, and Copper Pie is like that but is trying not to be. And Bee, well, she’s used to people doing what she says, but Newboy didn’t know that.

At last, the bell went and we lined up.

‘What did he think he was doing?’ I asked.

‘No idea. Must be a weirdo,’ said Copper Pie.

‘Well, let’s hope he decides to be weird somewhere else,’ I said.

‘We’ll make sure he does,’ said Bee.

Bee’s always like that – definite. She’s never ‘not sure’ or ‘can’t decide’.

‘How are we going to do that?’ I was thinking force fields, trip-alarms, perimeter guards.

‘Make him not want to come near us,’ she answered, with a mean look.

‘Scary. I like it,’ said Fifty. ‘It’s time to make Newboy’s life a living hell.’