I’m going to dash this off fast because I’m supposed to be at the gym with Salome, helping her train and being her personal punch bag – and I don’t want to dwell on stuff, anyway. We’re at the end, as you must have guessed. And the beginning too.
The soldier she hit is not pressing charges, which is lucky. He was so amazed he got smacked by a girl that he’s saying nothing about it – there’s no comeback from that. Our beloved headmaster got a boot so hard up the you-know-what that he went flying into early retirement (where he wanted to send the Bra!) – and nice Miss Maycock got a full-time job because of what they call ‘continuity’. That’s what we all need, they say, for the last few days of our very last term before the big, wide, scary world. Continuity. They asked Mr Barlow to come back too, but he’s getting ready to go travelling.
I told him he should look up his poor abandoned kids, and patch things up with Mrs B – she might be lonely and sorry, and they could all be happy together in Cyprus. He said he’d give it serious thought, but I think he’s going to head off to some wilderness and do all the crazy things that he should have done in his teens. He recovered from the tranquillizers, of course – he said they made him feel nice and fuzzy. They had to carry him off the mountain, though.
‘I’ll be sending you postcards,’ he said – but where he hopes to send them, I don’t know. Because of course, all of us are splitting up. There are five schools around town, and we get scattered now, like a bunch of sweet little seeds. Where will we land? Will it be on stony ground, or nice, rich, fertile soil? Will we grow straight and tall, or crooked and bad? Who knows . . .
And I am pleased to confirm that Dr Warren has officially lost everything.
Dr Summersby legged it, straight out of the country, while the Rectal Institute is facing the biggest investigation in the world – it made the national papers and there were big demonstrations, and I was on TV at last (just three seconds, in the background, looking outrageously handsome). We all made statements, and Eric’s brother produced the hard drive he’d found, which – along with the phone – showed exactly what that very nasty man hoped to keep secret. Those poor old animals are being taken care of, so we were told, and the whole place is closed.
A few more loose ends, and I must be gone.
Jeff and Aparna are best friends again. But she’s going to an all-girls school, so that’s going to be difficult. Except she might not be: she’s told her parents she’s not, anyway. Jeff’s developing attitude too – one step at a time, and I help him along the best I can, giving him tips. Aparna just laughs at us both. How we didn’t see that coming is beyond me. She’s a dangerous girl now, and everyone’s scared of her.
Eric’s fine, and still wants to join the Army – more than ever, in fact. He’s going to repeat the year, and says he’s ready to work hard for the qualifications he needs. He got so much praise for all that survival stuff that I think it changed him. Mark, as well – the commandos loved both of them, and they stayed a week at the training camp as a special reward. Mark got his head shaved, and they spent all their time doing assault courses and rifle-range stuff. Learning to be men.
We’re happy, I think. All of us.
Can I tell you about the last football match we played? I’ve got to, because you might have forgotten, but Green Cross did make the cup final – that awful ref never dared to complain. It took place in the very last week, against arch-arch-rivals Dundonald Primary. They’re a school like us: same size, same kind of kids, and they wanted to win even more than we did. By half time we were one down, and Jeff was feeling bad because it was an easy save and he muffed it. But the great Barlow (supercoach) had come back for just that game, and he had a meeting with us there on the touchline, and he worked his magic. He reminded us of a few things, and we just got it together and played like a dream. We played for each other and Eric equalized after ten minutes.
Who scored the winner?
It shouldn’t matter, because we all did, and you can see it, if you want – see the last page. We won a silver cup, and got to dance around the pitch holding it. We got to show it off in school assembly, and we were in the local paper. We even got a special dinner, which was our end-of-term party, and the very last thing I’m going to mention. Mr Barlow made a speech that had everyone in tears, because he told us he loved us. There was so much hugging and crying I couldn’t see straight, and then suddenly it was over – all over. Finished.
We opened the doors, and there were our parents waiting to drive us home . . .
Let me tell you, friends: you have to fight to survive.
Aparna and Jeff, for instance: they fight all the time. They can’t agree on anything.
Which makes me think maybe they’re the closest. Because I know the people we love most are the people we fight with – I see that now, and I never saw it before. I think the day you stop fighting is the day the world ends, and that’s when it’s over.
It was an amazing term, and I have no problems now looking in mirrors, because it’s just as he said. I see his eyes, looking into mine, and I’m going to live up to his memory, or try to.
Lots of love, and thank you for reading . . .
R.W.
xx