Mum was shaking my shoulder. ‘Monday morning, Samuel. Up you get.’
As I get older it gets harder to get out of bed, especially on school days.
In year 1, I was fine.
MUM: Samuel. Time to get up.
SAM: Okay.
By year 3, it got more difficult.
MUM: Samuel. Time to get up.
SAM: Grumpff.
MUM: Come on, Samuel.
SAM: (SLEEPILY) Five more minutes?
In the first part of year 6, when we’d just moved to Canberra and I didn’t have any friends, it was really hard.
MUM: Samuel. Time to get up.
SAM: (SILENCE)
MUM: Samuel?
SAM: (SILENCE)
MUM: (SHAKES SAM’S SHOULDERS) Come on.
SAM: NO! NOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
If it kept getting worse, what would I be like by year 12?
But then, halfway through year 6, after the school play where I’d managed to turn disaster on stage (splitting my pants and breaking my horse in half) into triumph (with a brilliant fart joke),* getting out of bed became a lot easier, because I’d finally got what I wanted – I was popular!
Or at least, more popular than I had been. It wasn’t like I was getting mobbed whenever I walked through the school gate.
But I was hanging out with other kids at recess and lunch (the chocolate biscuits Mum gave me helped), getting invited to birthday parties, and Johnny Wilson had even stopped throwing my bag into the girls’ toilet. He and I had a much better relationship now.
BEFORE THE SCHOOL PLAY
(IN THE CORRIDOR. JOHNNY WILSON WALKS PAST SAM.)
SAM: Hi, Johnny.
JOHNNY WILSON: Don’t talk to me, idiot-features, or I’ll smash ya.
AFTER THE SCHOOL PLAY
(IN THE CORRIDOR. JOHNNY WILSON WALKS PAST SAM.)
SAM: Hi, Johnny.
JOHNNY WILSON: (KEEPS WALKING, IGNORES SAM)
Okay, we didn’t exactly have a deep friendship, but being ignored was definitely a step up from being threatened with violence and called ‘idiot-features’.
Things were better in class too.
BEFORE THE SCHOOL PLAY
MR BOREMAN: Everyone get into groups of two. (TWENTY SECONDS LATER)
MR BOREMAN: Sam, who are you with? No one? Again? Who wants to be Sam’s partner? (LONG PAUSE) No one? Again? Oh-kay. Sam, I’ll be your partner. Again.
AFTER THE SCHOOL PLAY
MR BOREMAN: Everyone get into groups of two. (TWENTY SECONDS LATER)
MR BOREMAN: Oscar and Gary, you can’t both be Sam’s partner. You two team up and I’ll go with Sam.
Things were also going well for my best (and, until recently, only) friend Gary. He used to be even less popular than me, but now he had a secret weapon. His parents had just put in a pool. (Actually it wasn’t a secret weapon. If he’d kept it a secret, it wouldn’t have worked at all.)
It was nearly summer and once word got around that he had a pool, everyone suddenly wanted to be Gary’s friend. On hot days, kids would cluster around him, hoping for an invite. You could say it’s bad to be friends with someone just because they’ve got a pool, but it’s not that simple. When someone has something you want, it just makes you like them more.
For example:
KID WITHOUT A POOL: Mr Clarke’s new haircut looks like a rat died on his head.
SAM: That’s a bit harsh.
But . . .
KID WITH A POOL: Mr Clarke’s new haircut looks like a rat died on his head.
SAM: Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Classic. Ha, ha, ha, ha. (PAUSE) So, what are you doing after school?
Gary always invited me over for a swim too, so his pool was helping us both make friends.
So when Mum shook my shoulder and told me it was time to get up, even though I was tired, I didn’t groan, complain or open my eyes. I just grunted, heaved myself out of bed and felt my way to the shower.
