I’ve never seen so many kids in a circle before,
all pushing and trying to get a look at
whatever is inside the ring.
I’d like to know just what that is
but I’m stuck on detention
for what I did to Pete’s watermelon.
How could I know it would make such a mess
if I dropped it from the verandah?
That’s why Pete brought it to school
only he didn’t want to throw it
on account of School Rules.
I told him I’d never seen a rule that read,
No dropping watermelons from verandahs.
I stretch my legs under the table
and look at the clock on the wall,
counting down the seconds,
fifteen, fourteen, thirteen . . .
right on time,
Ms Arthur comes into the room
and tells me to ‘not use fruit as a projectile again’.
That’s an easy one to promise,
especially when I’ve got all my fingers crossed.
Teachers never check those things.
You’d think they’d learn that stuff
at university, wouldn’t you?
Anyway, I run down the stairs two at a time
and nearly knock Laura Wright over.
She’s eating an apple
and it flies right out of her hand
but I manage to catch it before it lands in the dirt
which is pretty impressive.
Our school should have security cameras
so they can record such brilliant acts of athleticism.
I mumble ‘sorry’ to Laura
but she may have heard ‘snotty’.
How can one girl produce so much runny stuff?
I reckon it’s all the fruit she eats.
Can’t be healthy for you, can it?
Laura grabs me by the arm.
Grabs me!
I’m about to punch her, of course,
but I remember what Mr Hume
said about violence.
Well, I don’t actually
but he goes on about violence
every week at assembly.
I reckon he watches too much television.
So I don’t punch Laura.
I wait until she wipes her nose on a hankie
and rubs the apple on her shirt,
in case of boy germs, I guess.
But she doesn’t say anything.
She just holds my arm.
I say, ‘What?’
I put on one of those dumb expressions,
like people do on TV game shows
when they’ve won a new washing machine
and can’t believe it and are waiting for the host,
the guy with the shiny hair and even shinier suit,
to tell them, for the third time,
that, yes,
they’ve won something to wash clothes with.
Can you believe people get excited
about doing the laundry?
Anyway, Laura wipes her nose, again,
and says, ‘Forget it.’
That’s all.
Forget what?
At that very moment the bell rings.
I turn and start running to the circle of kids.
And you know what?
I was too late.
For the rest of the afternoon in class
all I heard were whispers from Cameron,
Pete and Alex
about what I’d missed.
Do you know what it was?
Nah.
Me neither!