‘I didn’t want to do it. Dad made me.’
‘We know,’ said Fifty. He paused then added, ‘Now.’
‘You could try talking to us next time,’ said Jonno.
‘There won’t be no next time,’ said Copper Pie.
I chose a cake with a Flake on top. It was absolutely delicious. Helped by the fact the Tribers were in the Tribehouse, all together again.
‘She’s clever, your mum,’ said Jonno.
‘That’s not what most people say,’ said Copper Pie. ‘Most people say she shouts.’
‘But she got out that box, didn’t she? And everyone remembered how long you’ve been friends and all the stuff you’ve done together. She helped sort it out.’
‘I s’pose.’
‘I wish I had old friends.’
We all looked at Jonno. Who was as much a part of Tribe as all of us, even though we’d only known him a few weeks. Fifty put it into words.
‘Once you join, you can’t leave. Even if you disappear for a while with our number one enemy, like Copper Pie here, you’re still a Triber. So you’ll have old friends, Jonno. You’ll have us, till you die.’
‘Unless we go first,’ said Bee.
‘Can we not talk about dying?’ I said. ‘Can we just eat the rest of the cakes?’
Copper Pie flopped his hand down. We all followed. The Tribe handshake said it all.
Show and Tell
Bee’s mum is sad
We were on our way home from school.
‘I love Tuesdays,’ I said. It’s the day we do D.T. ‘All I need is a layer of glaze to make it shiny and my Spitfire will be finished. I can’t wait.’
‘Good for you,’ said Fifty. His fire engine looked more like a vandalised post box. ‘I can’t wait to burn mine.’
‘You can burn mine too,’ said Copper Pie. His chip van mysteriously got crushed between lessons. (We suspected Jamie, working on Callum’s orders.) Bee finished hers ages ago. She chose a boat for her vehicle, which was a good idea because wheels are difficult.
We stopped halfway down the alley to chat to Sass who’s this really cool girl at the senior school. We used to be scared of her but ever since we gave her and her mates some cupcakes, made by the one and only Bee the Baker, she’s been a mate.
‘Hey Tribers, how goes it?’
‘Good,’ said Jonno.
‘Were you at the fair?’ said Bee. ‘I thought I saw you.’
‘Yeah, Mum made me take my brother. He spent the whole time trying to score against that goalie. I saw you guys with a table full of —’
‘Rubbish,’ said Fifty.
‘I’d have come over but . . .’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, it looked like there was trouble brewing.’
‘Trouble’s one word for it,’ said Jonno. ‘War would be the other.’
Sass laughed. I think Jonno really likes her – if you get what I mean.
‘We gave up and sold the stall in the end,’ said Bee.
Fifty finished off the story. ‘This car-booter with wads of cash took the lot off us for thirty-five quid.’
‘You lot always manage to swing things your way. How d’ya do it?’
We grinned at each other.
‘OK. I get it,’ she said. ‘It’s the Tribe thing.’
She walked with us to the other end of the alley where we almost ran straight into . . . Bee’s mum.
‘What are you doing here?’ said Bee.
I’d never seen her mum anywhere near school before. As far as I can make out she’s either at work, or cooking, or shopping.
‘They’ve gone.’ Bee’s mum started sniffing.
‘Who’ve gone, Mum?’
‘The boys.’ Proper crying started. Time for a quick exit. I grabbed Fifty’s arm. Copper Pie didn’t need grabbing, he’d already sloped off round the corner. Sass had disappeared too.
‘See you tomorrow, Bee,’ I shouted. ‘Come on, Jonno.’
Jonno didn’t come. Jonno has an annoying habit of not coming! We waited out of sight for a few minutes.
‘What’s Jonno up to?’ said Fifty.
‘No idea,’ said C.P.
‘Surely he’s not going to walk home with Bee’s wailing mum?’ Fifty made a surely-not face.
‘I hate it when my mum cries,’ I said.
‘Same,’ said Fifty.
‘My mum never cries,’ said Copper Pie. ‘I think she was born without the right bits.’
‘Tear ducts,’ I said.
‘That’ll be it,’ said Copper Pie. ‘No tear ducts.’
‘I reckon my mum got your mum’s,’ said Fifty. ‘She cries at everything. If you said: imagine there was a little puppy and it trod on a drawing pin, that would be it – she’d be off, box of tissues, red eyes.’
‘But that is quite sad,’ I said, and wished I hadn’t. Copper Pie called me girly.
Thankfully Jonno reappeared.
‘Why did you all disappear? Bee’s our friend.’
‘But Bee’s mum isn’t,’ said Fifty. Jonno made a face so Fifty quickly added, ‘But we like her of course. And she makes a good lasagne.’
TRIBERS’ SAD THINGS (SOME OF THEM AREN’T SAD THOUGH)
Winters with no snow
Batteries running out when you’re playing some thing
Less than 3500 Black Rhinos left on the planet (Bee’s very sad about that)
No pudding
No loo roll and no one to get you any
Fire alarms with no fire (only Fifty thinks that’s sad)
Waking up too early on Christmas morning
The day after Christmas (364 days to wait)
Getting woken up from a nice dream
Not getting woken up from a bad dream
Dropping your book in the bath (only Keener thinks that’s sad)
‘What’s up anyway?’ said Copper Pie.
We walked along as Jonno explained.
‘Remember when Bee’s dad said the twins had two weeks to get out?’
‘Yes.’ I did remember, but I hadn’t actually thought about it since. My mum and dad are always threatening things they don’t end up doing.
‘Well, they’ve gone already. And Bee’s mum is seriously upset.’
‘I don’t get why,’ said Fifty. ‘It’s normal to leave home when you’ve left school. No way will I live with my mum when I grow up.’
‘You might never grow up,’ said Copper Pie. ‘You might stay fifty percent smaller than everyone else, forever.’
Fifty kicked him. Copper Pie slapped him round the head and turned to run away. Fifty jumped on his back. They’re always messing.
‘Where have her brothers gone?’ I asked.
‘They’re renting a room from an actress,’ said Jonno.
‘A real actress?’ said Fifty.
‘No, a cartoon one.’ Fifty dissed by Jonno – I liked it.
‘Where is it?’ I asked.
‘The house is in Stoke Park. Wherever that is.’
‘It’s an estate,’ I said. ‘Quite new, with a grassy bit in the middle.’
‘Bee’s mum says their house feels too empty without the twins,’ said Jonno. ‘That’s why she came to meet Bee.’
‘There’s no such thing as too empty,’ said Fifty. ‘What would I give to be home alone?’
‘Without your baby sister?’ I said. ‘Come on, Fifty. We all know she’s your all-time favourite person.’
‘I meant without Mum and Dad. Probably Rose can hang out with me anytime. We could make a fire and sing songs while we toast marshmallows.’
Probably Rose is quite cute, unlike my little sister, Flo, who’s irritating and tells lies.
‘Anyway, they’ve gone to the dodgy café for a cup of tea,’ said Jonno.
The dodgy café has a tattoo parlour in the back. If you go in there without a drawing of a snake or an eagle on your arm you feel a bit like you’ve forgotten to put your pants on – according to Sass that is. I’ve only ever peeked through the window.
When I got
in from school Mum was on the phone. Flo was at the kitchen table, eating a teacake and drinking some apple juice. There was some left out for me too. I sat down with her and scoffed. For once Flo was completely quiet. It was bliss. I left her and went up to my room to make a space for the Spitfire that was coming home soon. It took a lot of rearranging to find a suitable spot.
‘Te-ea,’ shouted Mum.
It was fish cakes, pasta and peas. Mum, Flo and Amy had pesto too but I don’t like it. (Dad gets home late in the week and eats on his own.) I sat down and started eating.
‘So Flo, how was school?’ asked Amy. She’s turning into a second mum.
Flo shrugged her shoulders. Something was up. She normally talks the whole time – not even a mouthful of mashed potato stops her.
‘Did you not get chosen for Show and Tell again?’ said Mum.
Flo shook her head. That explained the silence. She’d taken Fat Cat. She made him from two woolly pom-poms and two cardboard triangles (for ears) and then she felt-tipped-on whiskers that looked like scribble. It was rubbish. She’s always taking weird things. No wonder she never gets picked.
‘Never mind,’ said Amy. There was another long silence.
‘Did anyone bring anything good?’ asked Mum.
Flo shook her head again.
REALLY BAD SHOW AND TELLS TRIBERS REMEMBER FROM YEAR 3
Home-made knitted scarf for a teddy
Home-made knitted hat for a teddy
Hospital identification bracelet with spots of blood
Snack pack of dried jellyfish from Japan
Fossil that was actually a stone
Tooth, with bits of Weetabix left on
Blurred photo of someone’s dog
Certificate for swimming 5 metres
Panning for gold medal from Legoland
Eggcup from Torquay
Amy and Mum swapped she’s-being-moody-and-spoilt looks and Amy started going on about her boyfriend instead. Mum listened to her endlessly dull rabbiting and then said what she always says: ‘Just make sure you don’t get too serious about him, Amy.’ What I think she means is: Can’t you find one that’s not so spotty?
‘Aren’t you hungry?’ Mum asked. Me and Amy had finished and were on pudding but Flo still had half a plate full of pasta.
‘Not really,’ said Flo.
‘OK. You can get down,’ said Mum.‘And maybe you’ll get chosen to show Fat Cat next time.’
Let’s hope not, I thought. Fat Cat really wasn’t something to show off about.
Bee’s mum is mad
Bee was late for school.
‘We’d given up on you,’ said Fifty at break.
‘I’ve given up on my mum,’ said Bee.
‘Oh! Is she still upset?’ said Fifty. He was trying to be nice but Bee wasn’t in the mood.
‘What do you think, Fifty? That Mum was crying yesterday but today she woke up ecstatically happy? Duh!’
Fifty raised his eyebrows. They’re like two thick black slugs. (He can lift one at a time, and turn his tongue over, and turn his eyelids inside out.) I raised my almost-invisible-because-they’re-so-blond ones back at him. The message was clear: Bee was stressy.
‘Your mum’ll get used to your brothers not being there,’ said Jonno. Brave! I waited for Bee to snap his head off.
‘But will I?’ said Bee. ‘It’s so strange. There’s nothing to . . . clear up, or trip over, and the fridge is full, and the telly’s off for the first time in my whole life. Mum followed me around like a shadow all last night. And Dad’s back but not forgiven. Mum keeps throwing him evil looks.’
You can never really understand what’s going on in someone else’s head. I understood what she was saying, but had no idea how it felt. If my sisters left home I’d be in heaven. No teasing. No silly girl-talk at tea. No weird boyfriend coming round all the time. No dollies. No lumps of long matted-together hair that look like spiders in the plughole. I could go on . . .
‘How are you getting on with the Earth Day plan?’ said Jonno. He was trying to distract Bee. And it worked.
‘You’ll never guess who’s going to take it over when we leave?’ she said. We didn’t even try.
‘Tell us,’ said Fifty.
‘Amir,’ she said.
‘You’re joking,’ said Jonno. ‘He’s not into the planet. He’s into making deals.’
‘That’s the mistake people make,’ said Bee. ‘They think if you’re green, you’re all . . . wishy-washy. But to get the message across you need to be . . .’ She couldn’t find the words, but Fifty did.
‘A smooth operator.’
‘Exactly,’ she said.
I hardly saw her for the rest of the day. She was in a huddle with Amir and another kid that helped us with the water bombs. I was glad that was all over. Tribe needed a bit of peace. Time to do stuff just for us, for Tribe. I mean, we still hadn’t made our ID cards. It was time for another one of my lists. I decided to make one after school, before the Wednesday meeting.
There was a dog at the school gates. Nothing unusual about that, except the lead was attached to the wrist of Bee’s mum, who doesn’t have a dog. Equally unusual was the fact that, for the second day running (and the second day ever), Bee’s mum had come to meet Bee.
‘Mum, what’s that?’
‘It’s Doodle. Say hello to him.’
She didn’t. She stared.
Fifty said it instead.‘Hello Doodle.’ He looked just like the dog, black and fluffy. He wasn’t much taller either, as Doodle showed us when he jumped up at him.
‘Get off!’ Fifty shuffled backwards. Doodle snapped at him.
‘Don’t do that, Doodle,’ said Bee’s mum, stroking his nose. Doodle grabbed the side of her hand in his teeth. She had to grab his top jaw and prise it open. Doodle wasn’t making a very good impression.
‘Mum, where did he come from and when’s he going back?’
Doodle tried to jump up at Bee, but Bee’s mumpulled him back, half strangling the poor puppy.
‘Sit! Doodle.’
Doodle laid down and started gnawing the corner of Copper Pie’s sports bag.
‘He’s our puppy, Bee. Isn’t that exciting?’
I looked over at Copper Pie. He was making a she’s-doolally face.
‘Mum, it’s not exciting, it’s mad. We can’t have a puppy. We don’t need one. We don’t have room for a puppy, or time to walk it, or anything.’ Bee sounded desperate. I’d have felt the same. Who would want to share a house with that black beast’s teeth?
‘Of course we have room. Doodle will help fill the hole left by your brothers.’ Bee’s mum’s eyes went all teary as she stroked Doodle’s head. Doodle had another go at eating her hand.
Bee rolled her eyes. I didn’t see her do it because her fringe was covering them but I could tell by the way her mouth moved. Jonno bent down and gave Doodle a rub on his back.
‘Hello boy,’ he said. ‘You’re a lovely doggy, aren’t you? You’re a Labradoodle.’
Doodle went for Jonno’s fingers but Jonno was too fast. He whipped his hand away and turned his face away too, as though he was ignoring Doodle (which I thought was a bit mean as he’d just said what a lovely dog he was). Doodle jumped up at Jonno but Jonno acted like he wasn’t there, turning away from him again. Weird. Who cares? I was ready to go. Dogs aren’t my thing (dribble, sharp teeth and claws, poo, hair, yucky smells). Copper Pie and I strolled off.
‘Bye, Bee. See you at the meeting,’ I shouted. Fifty followed, but Jonno stayed with the dog, which he was ignoring.
‘Are you coming?’ shouted Fifty.
‘No. I’ll walk with Doodle,’ said Jonno. ‘Is that OK?’ he asked Bee’s mum.
‘Yes, of course it is. I think Doodle likes you.’
So we left Bee and Jonno with the Beast.
After tea I was about to leave, list in hand, when Little Miss Nuisance came into my room. ‘Can I come with you?’
What was Flo asking me that for? Of course she couldn�
��t come with me to the Tribehouse.
‘No.’
‘Please, Keener.’
‘No. In fact, never.’
The conversation carried on for a bit – me saying ‘no’, and her begging. Most unlike Flo. And she didn’t look normal either. She’s meant to be pretty, according to people’s grannies, but her face was all puffy, like she’d been crying. I didn’t care, but I found myself asking her what was wrong anyway.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I need some help, Keener.’
‘Doing what? Has the head come off your dolly again?’
‘No. Proper help.’
What’s proper help? ‘You mean with maths?’
‘No. You’ve got to help Jack, Keener.’
I had no idea who Jack was – one of her cuddly rabbits probably. ‘You’re going to have to be a bit clearer, Flo.’
‘Because of Show and Tell.’
‘Flo, there’s nothing I can do to make Fat Cat get chosen.’
‘It’s not to do with Fat Cat,’ said Flo, quite crossly – as though I was deaf and she’d been shouting the same thing for five minutes. For someone who was asking for help she wasn’t being that polite.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘If you’ve got a problem, ask Mum.’
Flo started to cry – big tears. I still didn’t care, about Flo, or about Jack, whoever he was. She put her head on my lap (I was sitting down) and started sobbing. I could feel my trousers getting wet. I was desperate for her to stop.
‘What do you want me to do, Flo?’ I said to the blond hair on the back of her head. The answer was a bit muffled, but I heard the word ‘Tribe’.
‘Lift your head up and say it again.’
‘We need Tribe, Keener. Please let me come with you.’
I found myself nodding. I mean, she is my sister.
‘All right. All right. You can come, as long as you’re nice.’
I wish I could be properly nasty like Copper Pie is to his brother. He’d have said, ‘Hop it, Crybaby,’ chucked her out of his room and slammed the door.
I told Mum Flo was coming over to Fifty’s and she made an I’m-so-proud-of-you face. Amy made an it-can’t-be-happening one. As we left the house Flo reached up and took my hand. No way was I walking along like that. I told her to stay by my side.
A Thousand Water Bombs Page 7
