I don’t know why I grabbed Mick,
it was an impulse.
I’ll check the dictionary when I get home.
Impulse is the word I’m searching for, I’m sure.
Mum says I’m like that.
Unpredictable.
Just for a second, today,
when I grabbed Mick Dowling’s arm,
I wanted to ask him why
he looks at me funny all the time,
ask him straight out.
He’d have to say something?
And then I’d know why the kids in class,
don’t say anything to me.
They act like I’m not here.
A vacant chair in the third row.
Someone to push in front of in the canteen line.
The only time they seem to know I’m around
is when they’re making jokes about me.
At least, I think that’s what they’re doing?
Impulse.
To act on initial emotion. On first thought.
Yep.
That’s why I grabbed Mick’s arm.
But you can’t ask people questions like that.
They freak out and reckon you’re a total nutjob.
I don’t really care what they think
but, the truth is,
Mick wouldn’t have answered anyway.
He would have told me to wipe my nose.
Snotty!
Hasn’t he ever heard of hayfever?
The bell rang and I walked slowly to class.
I sat down, closed my eyes
and waited for the afternoon.