by Alison Hart
‘Jesse is the friend we all need. He’ll get you into trouble, he’ll get you out of it and he’ll be standing right next to you in the principal’s office. Prepare yourself for a rollicking ride!’
NAT AMOORE
author of Secrets of a Schoolyard Millionaire
‘A hilarious, heartfelt book that made me laugh, cringe and gasp, sometimes all at the same time. It’s a full-on fun fest!’
OLIVER PHOMMAVANH
author of Thai-riffic!
‘Hilarious hijinks abound! A must-read for any kid who’s ever lost their school jumper or had their belongings eaten by a goat.’
KATE and JOL TEMPLE
authors of Yours Troolie, Alice Toolie
First published by Allen & Unwin in 2020
Copyright © Text, Alison Hart 2020
Copyright © Illustrations, Liz Anelli 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.
Allen & Unwin
83 Alexander Street
Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
Phone:(61 2) 8425 0100
Email:[email protected]
Web:www.allenandunwin.com
ISBN 978 1 76052 571 2
eISBN 978 1 76106 064 9
For teaching resources, explore www.allenandunwin.com/resources/for-teachers
Cover illustration by Liz Anelli
Cover and text design by Mika Tabata
Set by Midland Typesetters, Australia
For my daughter Mae
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
The school year only started half an hour ago and I’ve got three problems already.
For a start, I’ve been put into Mrs Leeman’s class. She’s not even meant to be a Grade 6 teacher. I already did my time in Prep. I’m pretty sure she’s about a hundred because she taught my dad when he was at school and he learned to write on a blackboard. She wears little wiry glasses and has little wrinkly eyes looking through them, hoping to catch you doing something wrong. Her hair is done up in a white bun like a grandma but she’s about as far from a grandma as you can get. Everyone’s scared of her. She’s always yelling and hands out detentions like lollies at a Christmas party.
Secondly, there’s a chance I could be a school captain this year. I was having an unusually popular day when the class voted last year. Dad had brought home a box full of irregular-shaped chocolate tree frogs from work and said I could take some to school. I took twenty-six; one for each kid in my class, and three left over. Dad does all the accounting at a warehouse packed full with boxes and cartons of chocolate. They have chocolate tree frogs, koalas, echidnas as well as just normal-shaped blocks and bars. They also do yucky ones with stuff like coconut, dried fruit and salt flakes.
I didn’t know we were voting for school captains that day. It was an unlucky coincidence.
My third problem is that I’ve lost my Grade 6 jumper. The one with the year and all our names on the back. If I didn’t lose it during Mrs Leeman’s lecture about being responsible and looking after our stuff, I lost it soon afterwards because now I’m looking around in assembly and everyone’s wearing their jumper except me.
Lastly … it’s a million degrees today.
So that’s actually four problems.
It’s worse than I thought.
Everyone in the gym is laughing and talking about their holidays. Even the teachers.
Jun is sitting next to me with his jumper on backwards with the hoodie bit over his face trying to block out the sun. Jun is one of my friends. He lives with his grandparents who are really old and only have to go to work when they feel like it. Everyone likes him because he’s always doing weird stuff like bringing a dehydrated lizard in a jar to school or eating seven jam rolettes for lunch.
He thinks the school rules are optional.
My best friend Alex leans over to me and says, ‘Jesse – shoes!’ and I start laughing because our principal, Mrs Overbeek, wears the same ones every assembly. They look like canoes made out of old rope.
Alex has been my best friend since the first day of Prep, when I accidentally squashed his finger in the toilet door, then clonked the door back into my own head. There was only one ice pack so we had to take turns. That’s how easy it is to make friends in Prep.
Mrs Overbeek is standing on stage waiting for everyone to be quiet so she can get started on her boring welcome speech. She could be waiting a while. It’s so hot in the gym, everyone starts taking their jumpers off. Those of us that have one, I mean.
Eventually Mrs Leeman stands up and the clomping of her shoes across the stage is enough to make the whole school turn around to face the front in total silence. She looks even more cranky than usual, if that’s possible. Mrs Overbeek starts her standard first-day assembly. No one’s listening though; we’re all getting fidgety and uncomfortable sitting on the floor in the heat. There’s no sign of our vice-principal, Mr Wilson. He probably only has to do stuff if Mrs Overbeek’s not at school for some reason.
After about a year, the new kids are asked to stand up just in case they’re not feeling uncomfortable enough already. There’s a new girl in the other Grade 6 class. She’s got the longest hair I’ve ever seen. It touches the floor when she sits down. It’s not tied up or anything, so it’s a good thing she’s not in our class. Mrs Leeman has a no-tolerance policy when it comes to long hair not being tied up.
It’s so hot and so boring.
I can’t believe how hot and bored I am.
Alex hands me a sticky note with a drawing showing Mrs Overbeek in the Jurassic Period. It’s a pretty good drawing. The dinosaurs are very realistic-looking. They look like they’re on the brink of extinction due to heat and boredom.
He’s very good at capturing the moment.
I put the drawing in my pocket. I’d like to make it through the first day of school without a detention.
Now it’s unbearable in the gym. Mr Winsock, the sports teacher, is taking regular gulps from his water bottle – something I’ve noticed sports teachers do even when they’re not doing anything sporty.
There’s a bit of fluffing around on the stage, then Mr Wilson and a lady from the Parents’ Committee come out to announce the school captains. They’ve probably been waiting in Mr Wilson’s air-conditioned office until now. Everyone sits forwards and listens for the first time since assembly started. I’m sweating even more, and shaking. If I am a captain, I’ll have to accept my badge from down here on the floor.
Mr Wilson takes the microphone from Mrs Overbeek and thanks her for the assembly so far. Then he starts talking about the privilege of being a school captain before we’ve had the privilege of knowing who the school captains are.
‘And don’t forget, girls and boys in Grade 6 … uhhh … while there are only two captains, it’s up to all of you … uhhh … to set a goo
d example for the younger students …’
I wish he would just get on with it.
Suddenly something goes ‘crash’ over near the side door and everyone’s heads swivel around.
I stretch my neck forwards to get a better look. Miss Agostino, the Prep teacher, has fallen off her chair and onto the floor.
Jun’s muffled voice comes out from behind his hoodie, ‘What was that?’
‘Miss Agostino’s fainted!’ Alex says. ‘She’s gone like … splatt.’
A couple of parents who are not filming the whole thing rush forwards from the back to help Mr Winsock, who is trying to help Miss Agostino. Mrs Leeman appears on stage with a Duty Teacher vest and announces assembly is over, though Mrs Overbeek and Mr Wilson are standing right there. She doesn’t need the microphone. The Preps are led out through the canteen and given an icy pole to eat under the only shady area in the whole school until their teacher can stand unassisted. I hope they don’t think it’s standard procedure to get an icy pole after assembly. If they do, that’ll be the first of many school-related disappointments.
While we’re in the corridor, Mr Wilson’s voice announces over the PA system: ‘Uhhh … yes … hello again everyone. I’m pleased to report … uhhh … Miss Agostino is fine … no need for concern. We didn’t finish our assembly today, so, uhhh, we’ll meet again tomorrow …’
Jun says, ‘She probably did it on purpose.’
‘Did what on purpose?’ I ask.
‘Miss Agostino. She probably pretended to faint so that Mr Wilson would stop talking.’
Alex says, ‘I don’t think so … you can’t make your face go that colour.’
I run in front of the rest of the class so that I can have a quick look around the classroom for my jumper. I look underneath my chair, on the floor, in my bag. Then I feel a chill. Mrs Leeman is miraculously back at her desk already, eyeing me from across the room.
There must be more than one of her.
I don’t think she’s noticed I’ve lost my jumper though. If she had, I would know about it.
It’s not Mrs Leeman I have to worry about, anyway. She only yells at me from 9 am to 3.30 pm. Mum has the other seventeen and a half hours, and it was her sixty bucks that bought the jumper. I feel someone else staring at me and look up to see an orange-haired kid watching me scrabbling around on the floor. He must be new. It was just him and Mrs Leeman in the classroom before I got here, so he’s picked a desk right up the back.
Mrs Leeman tells the class the red-haired kid is called Braden but she doesn’t give him the opportunity to speak or anything. He looks like he wants to run out the door. More than the rest of us, I mean.
The lesson starts like we’ve never been on holiday and today is just a normal day, not the first day of the year. Mrs Leeman doesn’t ask how our holidays were or talk about her holidays, like normal teachers. The other Grade 6 class has Ms Kendall, who tells you if she’s bought a new car and stuff like that.
And it’s even hotter than the gym in here. Mrs Leeman doesn’t believe in air conditioning.
Our assignment is already written up on the interactive whiteboard. It’s called ‘Sneak Peek’. We have to think of an invention and explain how it might be useful in the future. Mrs Leeman says we are to peek into a future that doesn’t include zombies. In fact, she says anyone who does anything to do with zombies will get zero.
I have a good idea straightaway. It’s a suit made of bees. It would have a number of uses: it would keep you warm in winter, hide your identity if you want to be anonymous and stop relatives kissing you at family things and leaving lipstick on your head. I’m tempted to write ‘it’s a bee suit, not a zom-bee suit’ but Mrs Leeman has zero sense of humour, so I don’t.
Alex says, ‘I’m going to do a recycling scanner. It tells you what things are made of and how to separate all the parts and re-use them.’
‘Don’t we already have those?’ I ask.
‘Not like this one. It’s going to be really small. You can put it in your pocket.’
Jun just fills his page with stick figures. I don’t know if they have anything to do with the assignment or not.
When the bell goes, Mrs Leeman says we have to finish the ‘Sneak Peek’ assignment for homework by tomorrow. Unbelievable. I’m glad I have a good idea already. It’s too hot for homework.
During recess, I look for my jumper in lost property. I’ll be able to tell if it’s mine because the receptionist labelled them all with permanent marker. I dump the whole box on the floor hoping to see a patch of blue amongst the green, but there are no Grade 6 jumpers there yet. I must be the only one who’s managed to lose theirs already. The box is overflowing with other stuff, though. What are you walking around in if your uniform’s in the box?
I look out the window and notice for the first time about a hundred margarine containers filled with water all over the playground. Minha probably put them out to make sure all the animals can find a drink in this heat. Minha’s a girl in my class. She loves all animals, even annoying ones like flies and beetles. She’d give her last drop of water to a pigeon if she thought it looked thirsty.
I’m thirsty and hungry. I didn’t get any breakfast this morning because when I got up, my older brother Noah had already found my mini toasts and eaten eleven of them. There’s only twelve in the packet. He left the last one on my plate. One mini toast. So I microwaved it for twenty seconds and put it under his pillow.
But now I’ve missed out on most of recess too.
I go down the main steps out to the courtyard. Two girls from my grade, Leini and Gina, are already stationed at the top of the steps. They must be considering this location as a good place to be horrible to everyone this year. As I run past her, Leini says, ‘Hey, Jesse! What have you lost? Your head?’ Gina doesn’t say anything.
It must take them a few days to get back to form.
The lesson after recess is Sport and we all stand in a line while Mr Winsock walks up and down letting us know what is expected of us now that we’re in Grade 6. This is the third time we’ve heard it today … it’s freaking me out. I’m starting to wish for the comforting anonymity of Grade 5.
After the lecture, Mr Winsock introduces us to a student teacher I hadn’t even noticed until then. A strangely familiar-looking guy with a ponytail steps forwards. ‘Hello, everyone. I’m Ian,’ he says. Not Mr anything … just Ian. ‘I’m really looking forward to getting to know you,’ he continues. That must be on page one of the student teacher’s handbook.
Even though it’s boiling, Mr Winsock makes us run around the oval in the sun until Wesley throws up and we all wave our hands up volunteering to take him to the office. Mr Winsock glances over at Ian standing in the shade and sends him to the office with Wesley. Ian will start regretting saying he wanted to get to know us pretty soon. After they leave, Mr Winsock sends us in for a drink of warm water from the bubblers so we can return to a normal colour before he sends us back to Mrs Leeman.
After school, Alex walks part of the way home with me.
‘I know!’ he says. ‘You can borrow my jumper tonight … then you don’t have to tell your mum yours has gone missing.’
That’s typical of Alex to suggest my jumper has gone missing by itself somehow, and not that I’ve lost it already.
I tell him, ‘Thanks, but it’ll be okay.’
‘What are you going to tell your mum, though?’
‘I’m not sure yet. I’ll think of something.’
Alex scrunches his eyebrows up a bit. He’s pretty smart. He probably knows I have no intention of telling my mum anything.
When Alex turns off down the street towards his house, I notice the new kid, Braden, trailing a few metres behind me. He’s still looking worried about something. Maybe he’s thinking about having to spend a whole year in Mrs Leeman’s class. We walk like this a few metres apart until we get near my house and my dog Milky jumps over the fence and comes running down the street to greet … Braden.
B
raden looks up at me while he scratches Milky behind the ears.
‘Your dog is cool,’ he says, smiling. ‘You want to come over and see Cataract?’
I think that’s what he said. I don’t really want to go home yet in case someone asks to see my jumper so I follow Braden up the street. Milky trots along between us. He’ll go anywhere.
Braden’s house is only four houses further up from mine. There’s still a whole lot of moving stuff and boxes in the driveway. We walk up past the boxes to the carport. It turns out Cataract is a cat. A big, fluffy one with wonky eyes. She’s sitting on the bonnet of the car licking her paws and there’s a rat’s head and tail on the back doormat. Next to that, on the tiles, are the rat’s organs in perfect formation. It looks like a diagram.
Cataract looks up for a second at Milky then goes back to licking. Milky just sits there smiling as if he’s decided to move house as well. He starts looking a bit interested in the rat’s intestines though so I grab his collar and tell Braden I’ll see him tomorrow.
When we get home, I throw my bag on the kitchen floor and look for something cold to drink. Noah must be home already because the water jug’s been put back in the fridge with no water in it. I fill Milky’s bowl with water from the tap then fill a glass for me. It’s lukewarm. Yuck.
There’s nothing to do at home. It’s too hot to do anything, anyway. I’d go around to Alex’s house for a swim, but he has something on after school every day except Friday. Whenever Alex has friends over for a swim, his mum brings out little pieces of cut-up fruit on a tray. And glasses of lemonade with ice cubes. There’s never anything to eat at my house and our ice tray smells like onions.
Later on, we have fish and chips for dinner because nobody has the energy to cook anything. Though I notice Mum has the energy to tell me and Noah we’ll never see another mini toast as long as we live.
I’m glad it’s going to be cooler tomorrow. It’d be impossible to have another day as hot as today.
The next day is even hotter.
