Chapter Six
Confronting Rosa Thurwell wasn’t going to be easy. For one thing she knew more big words than I did, and for another she always had Sean Dingwall on her side. The answer was to confront her when she was alone, which would get rid of the Sean problem, but not the big words bit.
But in the end, it turned out to be quite easy. The very next day, at morning break, Rosa herself came to me.
‘Hi,’ she said, then sat plonk beside me. Just like that. Plonk.
Okay, Rosa Thurwell saying ‘Hi’ is one thing I can live with. But Rosa Thurwell sitting beside me, actually putting our two bodies inside the same one metre wide circle of personal space is something else. My eyes swivelled side to side and I became worried. No, make that scared.
‘Hi,’ I managed to squeak.
‘Well,’ she went on, as if it were perfectly natural for her to sit with a non-gold star winner like me. ‘I didn’t like what Sean did in the classroom yesterday,’ she went on. ‘Not one bit. I didn’t laugh at all, not even a smile passed over my lips.’
‘So it was Sean’s idea, then?’ I asked. ‘To call me rabbit boy?’
‘Got the information from his mother,’ Rosa explained.
‘The school librarian?’
‘Yes, it seems Ms Dingwall told her husband about your rabbit breeding ambition at the dinner table,’ Rosa went on.
‘And Sean overheard?’
‘He couldn’t help it,’ Rosa said. ‘I mean he was there at the time. Feeding his face. They were having rabbit stew for dinner. That’s how the subject arose. Not breeding rabbits. Eating one.’
‘And Sean saved up the information so he could have a go at me?’ I sighed.
‘I told him it was mean,’ Rosa said. ‘So I just wanted you to know.’
What was this? Did it mean that the Rosa-Sean/Sean-Rosa partnership had come to an end? Did it also mean that Rosa Thurwell was ready to be my friend?
‘Thanks for telling Sean it was mean,’ I mumbled.
‘I said a lot more than that,’ Rosa added firmly. ‘I jolly well told him he should try to be friendly with you and stop being such a big-headed boaster about his stupid gold stars. I mean, he’s only got five and I’ve got six.’
‘So, what did he say, Rosa?’ (I felt it was okay to use her name at this point.)
Rosa must have decided the same, for she went on, ‘He said he would try, Charlie. Try really, really hard. After all, this is The International Year of Being Kind to People Who Get Fun Poked at Them.’
‘I didn’t know that?’
‘It was announced in January, Charlie, so maybe you were on holidays at the time.’
‘Oh, yeah,’ I agreed. I’d say anything to see eye-to-eye with Rosa Thurwell. Actually Mum and I had a day trip to the beach in January. That must have been when they announced the special year.
‘Well, Charlie,’ Rosa said. ‘I’ve got to go, but I just wanted to say that Sean’s ready to apologise. He’s in the classroom now, so it’s up to you. By-ee.’
Then she was off. I sat for a while, my chocolate biscuit melting in my fingers. It’s not a good look to eat a chocolate biscuit as you chat with a girl. I mean, what if you got some of it on your face?
Isobel Simms came along, then she sat beside me. In one morning break it meant that two females had placed themselves inside my Circle of Solitariness.
‘So what did she want?’ Isobel began.
‘Just being friendly,’ I replied.
‘I’ve seen friendlier rattlesnakes,’ Isobel snorted. ‘Nicer wart-hogs, more affectionate crocodiles.’
‘Well, maybe Rosa’s one crocodile that’s changed it’s spots,’ I said.
‘You’re thinking of leopards,’ Isobel snapped. ‘Charlie, don’t be a fly and get stuck in her spider web.’
Then she was off. Tim Wong-Smith came to me. ‘How’d you go with tackling that snake, Rosa?’ he asked. ‘Is she guilty?’
‘Of what?’
‘Stamping on my horse.’
It was one animal too many. Morning break was turning into a zoo. I mumbled some excuse, then moved off to find a secret place so I could eat my chocolate biscuit in peace without ruining my features.
Still thinking deeply about what had just taken place just then, I went into the classroom before the bell rang. Sean Dingwall was already in there and he smiled when he saw me. He was threading red cardboard letters onto nylon fishing line.
‘Hi, Charlie,’ he began, then before I could respond, he was off in a rush. ‘Look, about that rabbit boy thing, I thought you’d get a laugh out of it.’
‘Oh, yes, I like being made to look like an idiot,’ I said bitterly.
‘I know, I know, and I went too far, Charlie. So, I’m sorry. Can we be friends?’
‘Better than being enemies,’ I said. Then to change the subject, I asked what he was doing with the cardboard letters.
‘It’s Mr Sandilands’ birthday today,’ Sean explained, ‘so I’m putting up a sign to wish him a happy day.’
‘How’d you know it’s his birthday?’
‘My mother’s the school librarian, so I hear lots of stuff.’
‘And don’t I know it,’ I sniffed.
‘I’ve apologised for that rabbit thing,’ Sean said. ‘Anyway, I’ve already threaded Mr Sandilands’ name on.’ He showed me the name, made out of ten centimetre high letters. ‘What should we wish him?’ Sean asked. ‘Many happy returns?’
‘Um — what about Happy Birthday,’ I suggested. ‘It’s the usual thing.’
‘Okay, but we’ll need to be quick. The bell goes soon. We’ll hang it across the whiteboard, then put our names underneath. You start, Charlie, stick your name on the board. About there.’ He tapped the spot. ‘Say, “From Charles Thomson.”’
Rosa came in and said, ‘Oh, you’re doing it, Sean?’
‘Yeah, nearly finished,’ Sean told her. ‘Stick your name on the board too, Rosa.’
Then it was all urgent, urgent! Rosa took the whiteboard pen from me, and said, ‘Mr Sandilands is coming, Sean, so get a move on.’ Rosa ushered me back to my desk. At that moment she could have steered me over a vertical cliff and I’d not have complained.
The bell went and the rest of the class dribbled into the room. Sean was still threading red letters on the nylon line. Rosa sprinted to the door and looked out for Mr Sandilands. ‘He’s on his way,’ she warned. ‘Nearly here. About ten seconds — nine — eight —’
All eyes were on the board. Sean and Rosa skipped back to their desks and the sign with red cardboard letters hung across the whiteboard in a loop. It said:
Hairy Dopey Mr Sandilands
Underneath there was only one name on the whiteboard. Yes, Blind Freddy could have seen it. Urgently, I called out to Sean, ‘Sean, that’s not how you spell Happy Birthday.’
Isobel Simms looked at me, shook her head and said, ‘Charlie Thomson, when will you ever learn?’ At least this time she didn’t bring any animals into it.
Mum pinned the third letter from the principal on the board beside the kitchen door where she usually kept recipes, shopping lists and phone numbers.
‘Quite a collection, Charlie,’ she said.
I ate my cauliflower rissoles in silence. Isobel’s words came to me. Charlie Thomson, when will you ever learn?
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