We missed ten minutes of English with Mr Herbert the following day and ten minutes of Design and Technology on the Friday morning. By the time we were all leaving to go home, Hannah, Suky and Imi were really unhappy with us. At the bus stop they stood together and when Dean tried to get Imi to listen to his ‘Herbert Rap’, Imi moved away and told him that he wasn’t interested. Not that it stopped Dean, who rapped it anyway, entertaining the rest of the pupils. They liked it so much that some of them got Dean to repeat the lyrics over and over so that they could learn it too. Eventually there were about twenty kids rapping along, as the bus made its way through the traffic. Not that the other three heard it. They sat on the lower deck to avoid us and I seemed to be the only one bothered by it.
‘We have to tell them,’ I told Jit. ‘They’re not stupid – they’ll work it out soon enough.’
‘How? The socials are like a secret society. I bet Wesley and them have special handshakes and that,’ replied Jit, unfazed.
‘It’s not a joke, Jit. I’m telling them.’
‘When?’ said Jit, smiling at Dean.
‘Now!’ I replied, getting up as the bus rounded a corner. Not the cleverest thing to do.
I stumbled down the stairs onto the lower deck, ignored the laughter from the back and sat down on Hannah’s knee.
‘Gerroff you nutcase!’ she screamed as I kissed her on the cheek.
‘Come round later,’ I said, smiling. ‘There’s something that I want to tell you.’ I looked at the seat behind where Suky and Imi were pretending that I didn’t exist.
‘I want both of you to come too!’ I beamed.
They looked at each other and ignored me.
‘Please . . . !’ I begged. ‘Please, please, please!’
‘Why?’ asked Suky.
‘I want to tell you what me and Dean have been up to,’ I replied.
‘What makes you think that we care?’ asked Imtiaz, screwing up his face.
‘Because if you didn’t care then you wouldn’t be so angry about it, ignoring us and sitting downstairs.’
‘Maybe we just want to act our ages for a change?’ said Imtiaz.
‘Oh get a sense of humour, idiot boy!’ I told him, grinning. ‘Come round at six . . . I’ll get dad to make dinner for us all.’
‘Yeah all right,’ replied Hannah, ‘but gerroff me will you – my leg’s going to sleep.’
‘Okey cokey,’ I said in a silly voice. ‘See you all later.’
Hannah grinned, Suky smiled and Imi shrugged his shoulders. I knew they’d turn up though. They always did.
We had vegetable lasagne for dinner and my dad was really off on one, telling the gang all about his new stereo, which he could link up to his laptop to download MP3 files from the internet, and which included loads of other gadgets which might as well have been from another planet as far as I was concerned. I eventually got him to stop talking about it around seven o’clock. We went down to the cellar as my dad started to collect the dishes, a sullen look on his face, like I’d spoiled his party or something. My mum just laughed and called him a child, as she went off to the living room to relax after work.
Down in the cellar, Dean and Jit racked up the pool balls and started to play as Imtiaz and the girls sat on the sofa and waited for me to tell them what had been going on.
‘OK, smelly bums – the reason I asked you to come round was to tell you about what Dean and I have been up to,’ I told them, smiling.
Imtiaz pretended to yawn and Suky looked at her hands. Hannah was watching Dean and Jit play pool. Not the reaction that I was hoping for.
‘Well . . . ?’ I said.
‘Well what?’ replied Imi.
‘Ask me about it then,’ I urged, convinced that they did care.
‘All right – how is it?’ asked Suky with a sad attempt at humour.
‘Doh! Nice try,’ replied Jit, waiting for Dean to take his shot.
‘Get stuffed, Bhangra Boy,’ she replied in turn, forcing a smile out of Hannah.
‘Oh get on with it,’ Imi said, sounding bored.
‘We’ve been researchin’ stuff,’ Dean told them, missing his shot by a couple of inches.
‘Yeah – researchin’ yer ass,’ said Hannah.
‘Is that how you got it, yeah?’ Dean asked her, grinning.
‘Oh for God’s sake – what are you on about?’ said Suky, raising her voice.
‘Well, you know how Dean was complaining about having to go to late lunches? We’ve found a way to get out of them. Forever.’
‘Is this the important thing you had to tell us?’ asked Imtiaz. ‘That’s so lame . . . who cares?’
‘So you’re quite happy to eat cold chips and warm sandwiches and that?’ Jit replied.
‘Well no, but it ain’t going to ruin my life or nothing,’ said Imtiaz.
‘Depends on what you eat,’ added Dean. ‘I seen this thing on the telly ’bout food poisoning and that . . . food can kill you, you know.’
‘Shut up, Dean,’ said Suky.
‘Easy, sister!’ laughed Dean.
‘Oh shut up, all of you!’ I shouted. ‘I’m trying to tell you something.’
Everyone looked at me in surprise. I ignored them and carried on.
‘We found out about these lunch time socials that the school runs. Clubs that you can go to from Tuesday to Friday. Dean joined one and then so did I and they’re cool.’
‘Socials?’ asked Hannah, raising her eyebrows.
‘Yeah, like the Book Club and Computers,’ I replied.
‘And Chess,’ grinned Jit. ‘Don’t forget to tell them about Chess.’
‘Chess?’ said Imtiaz, looking disgusted.
I looked at him and then at the girls.
‘Er . . . yeah . . . Chess too . . . anyway. The thing is – if you join one of these clubs then you get to leave lessons ten minutes early so that you can get your dinner and then get to the club.’
‘Hot food, my friends – every day . . . believe!’ added Dean, like he was talking about treasure.
‘And the teacher can’t say anything about it because they’re like part of the social life of the school . . . only no one knows about them. No one cool anyway . . .’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Jit, ‘they’re like geek heaven. Wesley and Robert go to them but they’re open to everyone.’
‘And that’s where you’ve been disappearing off to?’ asked Suky.
‘Yes,’ I told her.
‘And you can go to one every day?’ she continued.
‘Well not on Mondays because they don’t run then. And actually, strictly speaking, you can only join two,’ I replied, looking to Jit and Dean for support.
‘Yeah but no one don’t check or anything,’ added Dean.
‘Doesn’t check, Chambers,’ scolded Hannah, mocking him, but getting it wrong herself, too.
‘Ehh! Check out Likkle Miss Dictionary . . . chill, man. Don’t get all discombobulated or nothin’.’
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Dean.
‘Dis-com-what-a-lated?’ asked Imi, amazed.
‘And you reckon I’ve swallowed a dictionary,’ grinned Hannah.
‘What’s it mean anyway?’ said Jit.
‘Bet he don’t even know!’ teased Suky.
‘Course I do, man. I man is the lyrics officer . . . words is my business!’ replied Dean.
‘So tell us what it means,’ insisted Imtiaz.
‘It means upset, man. Or uncomfortable,’ Dean told him proudly.
‘Man, you really are spending too much time with Wesley Magoogan,’ said Hannah, grinning again.
‘Getting back to the socials – are you saying that we can join one every day?’ asked Suky.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘There’s no register taken and the teachers just turn up and say hello before running off to do whatever.’
‘It’s a blag . . . no worries,’ added Jit.
‘But surely someone will work it out?’ asked Imtiaz, suddenly interested.
I smiled.
‘See – I knew it would get your attention,’ I told him. ‘So far we’ve joined three – but this week coming we’re going to join one more.’
‘You’re mad,’ said Hannah. ‘You’ll get caught.’
‘So what?’ replied Dean. ‘We’re in detention every Monday anyway . . . what else can they do?’
‘And you never have to go for late lunch again?’ asked Suky.
‘No late lunch, no getting wet in the rain, no freezing to death, huddled up against a wall in winter . . . heaven,’ I told her.
‘And the clubs ain’t that bad either,’ said Jit, supporting me. ‘It’ll be a right laugh if we all join the same ones.’
‘I dunno,’ Imtiaz said. ‘It’s OK to talk about it, but what if we get caught?’
‘We ain’t just talking are we?’ Dean reminded him. ‘We’ve researched it . . . and Wesley and the nerds get away with it so why shouldn’t we?’
‘You mean they go to more than they should?’ asked Hannah, amazed.
‘Yes – we were shocked too,’ I replied. ‘Wesley breaking the rules . . . kind of strange but true. I asked him myself.’
‘I bet he nearly wet his pants,’ Imi said, laughing.
‘Urgh! You stinky boy!’ I said, screwing up my face. That wasn’t an image I wanted in my head – thank you very much.
‘So you lot gonna join or what?’ asked Dean.
‘Hush up and take your shot,’ Jit told him.
‘Stand back then, little boy. Watch how a big man play the game.’
I grinned at the gang.
‘I’m going upstairs to ask your mum for a dictionary,’ said Hannah.
‘To check out Dean’s big word . . . bet he’s lying,’ she told me.
‘Check it, check it, ’cos you know you can’t test it!’ rapped Dean, missing his shot by a mile.