Alliances Forged in Clay

 

 

At school, the candle project still isn’t finished. Now we have to make clay candle-holders. In the same groups as before.

Matthew groans, deeply and dramatically.

“Why can’t we swop groups, miss? Why do we have to be with her?”

“Because,” says Mrs Angus, “it’s about time you learnt how to treat a lady.”

Josh and Matthew think this is hilarious.

“Watch out,” Josh coos, to Hannah. “You can’t have the clay. You’re a lady. You might get dirty.”

“Shut it, gimp,” says Hannah.

 

Alexander and Emily and I make a big candle-holder together.

“A candelabra,” says Alexander.

He rolls the word around in his mouth like it’s something magical. I like the idea of a word as magic. I give Alexander my best words back. Nocturnal. Luminescence. Malevolence. Sprat.

Alexander of the Roman-fort-loving-lecturer parents is more than up for those.

“Mulligrubs,” he says.

Emily and I stare.

“That’s not a word.”

“It is!” says Alexander. “It means to be sad.”

We’re both suspicious. But Alexander hasn’t stopped yet.

“Oscitate,” he says. “That means yawning. Or defenestrate – that means to throw someone out of a window.”

I start to laugh. “There isn’t a word for throwing someone out of a window!”

“There is,” says Alexander. “Defenestrate. And porknell – that means fat as a pig. And—”

“You’re making these up!”

“I’m not,” says Alexander. He looks hurt. “I’ve got a book of them at home.”

We both look at Emily. She ducks her head, staring at her clay.

“Your turn,” says Alexander.

Emily doesn’t say anything. She turns her head away.

“It doesn’t have to be a long word,” I say, to help her.

“Splat!” says Alexander, to show her.

“Squish.”

“Boom.”

“Kablam.”

Emily smiles, a small, shy smile like a pink hamster nose poking out of its house.

“Sparkle,” she says.

“Shine,” says Alexander.

“Fine.”

“Wine, opine, dine—”

“Give it me!”

Over on the other end of the table, Hannah and Josh are fighting again. Josh is holding the clay knife behind his back. Hannah lunges for it and he stumbles back, laughing.

“Give it!”

“Ladies don’t need knives,” says Josh. “Knives are for boys. A girl might cut herself.”

Matthew gives a hiccuppy little laugh.

“I’ll do your cutting,” says Josh. “You show me what you want cutting, I’ll do it. Just—”

Way over on the littlies’ bit of the table, Sascha squeals. Mrs Angus turns round, but she’s too late to stop Hannah picking up Josh’s entire dragon candelabra (with detachable flames) and throwing it at him, splat bang in the middle of his face.

 

Hannah’s in the biggest trouble ever.

“I started it, miss,” says Josh, but Miss Shelley doesn’t care.

“Hannah knew exactly what she was doing,” she says. She makes Hannah write lines, like a Victorian schoolgirl.

 

 

“Sorry,” Josh whispers as he bumps past her. He’s got clay all over his jumper, and bits of clay slicked into his hair and ears where the soaping didn’t reach. He looks like a goblin. Hannah doesn’t say anything, but she gives him this big, triumphant smile.

 

At break, Alexander goes off after Matthew and Josh, but he looks over his shoulder at me and Emily. Josh ignores him. He’s making an iceball out of the dirty bits of crushed ice at the edge of the playground. When Hannah comes out, he yells, “Oi! Mudwoman!” and lobs it at her.

It hits the side of Hannah’s coat. She stands utterly still, then she charges at Josh, stuffing bits of crushed iceball down the back of his coat. Josh squirms.

“Oi! Get off me! Madwoman!”

But he’s laughing, and so is Hannah. I watch, trying to figure out if they’re friends now, or enemies. But I can’t work it out.