‘I didn’t know that,’ I said.
‘Same,’ said Fifty.
After that the questions flew: Why does he keep moving? When is he moving again? Why is he scared of the tooth fairy? (He isn’t, any more.) Which school was the best? What is the worst thing that’s happened to him? How far can he see without his glasses? (As far as his elbow. )
We started to chuck a ball around as we chatted and it was OK. (And his neck looked normal!) He’d lived in London and Glasgow, where he met his best friend, Ravi. His worst first day was in Oxford where the teacher asked a posh kid to show him the way to the loos and he showed him the girls’ not the boys’ and then went and got all the other boys so they could watch him come out. How nasty is that?
It was nice talking to someone new – we all know everything there is to know about each other.
Jonno asked questions too: Why do you have such strange nicknames? I can guess Keener, but Fifty? Copper Pie?
We enjoyed answering that.
NICKNAMES
COPPER PIE: Ages and ages ago (we must have been about six) he was eating in class (absolutely not allowed) and the fill-in teacher (a man who didn’t know any of our names) shouted, ‘You with the ginger hair, put down that sandwich.’ And C.P. yelled back, ‘My mum says it’s copper, not ginger, and this is not a sandwich it’s a pork pie.’ He’s been Copper Pie ever since.
FIFTY PER CENT (or FIFTY): He hasn’t grown since he was about three, so he’s half the size of everyone else.
BEE: Short for Beatrice.
KEENER: It’s obvious, isn’t it?
JONNO: Has never had a nickname.
‘Do you want to go out the front?’ I said. Our garden’s quite small so we often play on the road.
We decided to play piggy in the middle, one on each side of the road and the pig in the middle, who had to try to get the ball and not get run down. I was in the middle, and had been for ages, when we heard yelling.
‘Keener!’ It was Copper Pie, and someone chasing him – Bee.
What were they doing here? My house isn’t on the way to Bee’s or C.P.’s. She lives on the estate and he lives on the main road.
Copper Pie skidded to a stop two drives down. So I ran over.
‘What is it?’
‘What’s he doing here?’ Copper Pie gave Jonno the evil eye.
‘Long story. Mum invited him. He’s all right.’
‘He’s the reason I’m for it.’
‘Come on, Copper Pie. He just wanted someone to hang out with. Do you know he’s never been at a school longer than about five minutes? He’s always been the new boy.’
‘So?’
‘Anyway, why are you here?’
Bee caught up. ‘Trouble. Big, big trouble.’
Fifty came over. ‘Did I hear trouble is brewing, witchy-poo?’
‘Brewed,’ said Bee.
Copper Pie sat on the kerb and put his head in his hands.
Bee made an aren’t-you-going-to-tell-them face, but he didn’t look up.
‘What is it?’ I said. ‘Did something happen on the way home?’
Bee shook her head.
‘Well there wasn’t time to get in any more trouble at school today,’ I said. ‘Was there?’
clumsy clot
Bee did the talking.
‘C.P. went back up to the classroom after D.T. to get his catapult. He thought he ought to leave it at home for a few days because of . . .’ She stopped and stared at Jonno with big wide eyes that seemed to say, ‘All your fault, Newboy.’
‘Anyway, on the way back down the stairs he was just testing the elastic, he says . . .’ (she made a ticking-off face at Copper Pie) ‘when his finger slipped and . . .’ (she winced) ‘he knocked the left ear off the statue of Charles Stra-Stra-Stra-att-on . . .’
The last word got longer and longer because it was interrupted by little snorts as though she was trying not to cry.
I gasped. The statue stands in the corridor right outside the hall doors. Charles Stratton was the founder of the school hundreds of years ago. I could see why she was upset. It’s probably priceless.
Bee took a breath and finished her sentence without any gaps, ‘. . . withafiftypencepiece,’ and then let out a huge ‘HA HA HA’, sat down on the pavement and carried on laughing her head off.
‘I’m sorry, Copper Pie, but only you could be so stupid and so unlucky,’ said Fifty, grinning away.
I couldn’t see what was funny about damaging such a valuable part of the school’s history but all the rest of them were in fits.
‘You’re right. I never hit anything I’m aiming at,’ said Copper Pie, who seemed to find it just as hilarious as the others even though he was in terrible trouble.
‘Listen,’ I said.
No one did.
‘Listen! This is serious.’ I wondered if perhaps I wasn’t making any noise because no one seemed to hear.
‘Stop! It’s not funny.’
Finally, they stopped.
‘You’re right, Keener. It’s not at all funny. Poor Charles is deaf in one ear now,’ said Fifty, before he started laughing again.
‘I think it’s more a case of amputation,’ said Bee, wiping tears off her cheek. It’s weird. She always cries when she laughs. Her tear ducts must be wired up wrong.
‘Stereo to mono with one flick of elastic,’ added Fifty.
‘And nothing to rest his glasses on,’ said Jonno, who had walked over.
There was a pause while we worked out the joke.
‘Good one,’ said Copper Pie.
You see, that’s the other thing about Copper Pie: he’s not complicated. I don’t mean he’s simple, as in thick, but he’s straightforward.
Jonno wasn’t wanted on our patch, so he told him to go away.
Jonno annoyed him, so he hit him.
Jonno said something clever, so he congratulated him.
I said Jonno was all right, so Copper Pie gave him a chance.
‘So what are you going to do about it?’ Jonno asked Copper Pie.
‘I dunno. Hope no one notices.’
‘Is it safe to do that?’ Jonno went on. ‘I mean . . . did anyone see you?’
‘No one saw me hit it . . . but Walsh saw me going up the stairs. She was coming down.’
‘What about when you left?’
‘Miss Maggs was still in the playground.’
‘Any other kids about?’ Jonno was giving him the third degree.
‘Only Bee. It was well late.’
‘What were you doing all that time?’ I asked.
Copper Pie didn’t answer.
Bee sighed. ‘We went to see if we could intercept the letter from the Head to Copper Pie’s mum and dad.’
‘What?’ I shouted.
‘It was just an idea,’ said Bee. ‘And we didn’t find it anyway.’
‘It’s illegal you know, interfering with the Royal Mail,’ I said.
‘Never mind about that,’ said Fifty. ‘Damaging the statue’s the problem. Punishment for that won’t just be a letter. It’ll be an invitation for C.P.’s whole family to sit outside the Head’s office.’
‘There aren’t enough chairs,’ said Bee.
‘They could bring their own sofa,’ said Fifty.
‘This isn’t helping,’ said Copper Pie.
‘What are the chances you’ll get away with it?’ asked Jonno.
Copper Pie screwed up his face. ‘Not good.’
There was lots of nodding from the rest of us. C.P. gets blamed for most things whether he’s done them or not.
‘So the only way out of this that I can see is if we make sure no one notices the damage – that way they won’t be looking for a culprit.’ Jonno had a good way of putting things. ‘Have you got the ear? Is it in one piece?’
‘Yes and no. It’s not what you’d call an ear any more.’
‘Let’s see.’
Copper Pie fished deep into his pockets and pulled out some bits of grey stone tangled up wit
h some string, three rubber bands and two empty crisp packets, both beef flavour.
‘You really shouldn’t eat those. They’re in the top five of the junk food table.’
‘Not now, Bee,’ said Fifty.
The ear was like one of those frustrating puzzles you get at Christmas that start off as a nice shape but can never be put back together again.
KEENER’S WORST CHRISTMAS STOCKING PRESENTS EVER
• A rubber dog toy
• Union Jack pants
• Slime (ear wax colour)
• Coal
• Squashed satsuma
• Pinocchio pencil sharpener
‘Well, that’s not going back on,’ said Bee. ‘And someone will definitely notice a missing ear. I mean, it’s assembly tomorrow and we line up right next to Charles.’
Jonno shook his head. ‘They might not. But it’s going to take team work.’
‘What is?’ said Fifty.
‘Fixing the statue of course.’
Jonno had gone from the unwanted member to the one who had us all listening. How did he do that?
‘Have you got a master plan?’ said Fifty.
‘I might have. Do you want to hear it?’
‘Too right,’ said Copper Pie. ‘And, er . . . sorry about the headlock.’
‘You’ve got scarily fast reactions,’ said Jonno. ‘I’m glad Keener held on to you because I didn’t fancy the punch that was coming next.’
Jonno looked at me when he said that and did a sort of nod. It got me thinking that although I was trying to save Copper Pie from trouble, it was really Jonno that I’d helped. I don’t do a lot of rescuing so I felt quite proud. I nodded back in what I hoped was an it’s-no-big-deal-I-do-it-everyday way.
‘Go on, then,’ said Bee. ‘Spit it out. How do we get Copper Pie off the hook?’
team talk
‘The first thing is we need to be a team,’ said Jonno.
‘You said that already,’ said Bee. ‘We’re mates – of course we’re a team.’
‘Are you? Because I reckon if you’d been working more as a team you’d have had a better chance of getting rid of me. I mean, how good was your plan?’
Jonno looked at us, one at a time. I felt my face go red. I’ve got blond hair and pale skin that turns an unnatural raspberry colour when I feel embarrassed. Fifty started kicking a woodlouse with his shoe. Bee retied her ponytail. Copper Pie kept his head down.
Please someone say something.
No one did. Jonno carried on.
‘Think about it. Copper Pie told me to go away, but no one backed him up – unless Bee’s personal bubble thing was meant to scare me off. Fifty had a go at me in class but Miss Walsh let me off. If you’d made up more lies about me, she’d have thought I was a troublemaker and that would have made things really difficult for me. Same when Bee did it. And when you finally barricaded the way in to your base, all of you working together, one of you broke ranks and ruined what was the best action you’d taken. I was hardly going to body slam the four of you just to sit in the dirt under your tree.’
He made us sound like a bunch of wallies.
‘We’re not used to having to defend ourselves,’ I said, a bit cross at his know-all attitude.
‘But he’s got a point,’ said Fifty. ‘If it was footie and your team had a corner, you’d never score if everyone did their own thing. Every player needs to know what the others are going to do to stand a chance of getting a goal. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it, Jonno?’
‘Pretty much. If you’d stuck together I’d have probably given up.’
Bee was getting impatient. ‘OK. OK. We’re a rubbish team. But what’s the plan for the ear?’
He had us all waiting with our tongues hanging out. I really believed he was going to unveil a devilishly clever scheme, but instead he said, ‘Simple. We replace it before registration tomorrow.’
‘Great idea!’ said Bee sarcastically. ‘I wonder why I didn’t think of that? We stick this mess back on and everything’s OK. Happy ending.’
‘Perhaps not that exact mess but basically, yes.’
I was getting pretty annoyed but strangely Fifty was smiling.
‘Go on, tell us the magic ingredient in your plan, Merlin,’ he said.
SPECIAL TALENTS
JONNO: Brainwashing people to make them do crazy things.
COPPER PIE: Eating masses of food very fast and not getting fat.
FIFTY: Hide and seek, fits into impossibly small spaces.
BEE: Picking her nose with her tongue AND winning ‘guess the name of the doll’ and ‘how many sweets in the jar’ at EVERY school fair.
KEENER: Remembering phone numbers and car registrations (would make good spy if bit braver).
Jonno shrugged. ‘We make an ear shape out of something else. We cover the doors to make sure no one sees us stick it on. It won’t look great but the “magic”, if there is any, is human nature. As long as the ear is roughly the same shape and colour as the old one, no one will notice because people see what they expect to see. Not what’s really there. It’s a fact.’
‘Are you telling me that if we stick a cauliflower to the side of Charles Stratton’s head no one will realise?’ I said, expecting everyone to laugh.
No one did.
‘As long as the cauliflower’s roughly the right size and colour . . . yes.’ Jonno’s face was completely serious.
‘You’re mad,’ I said.
‘Rugby players have cauliflower ears. They get squashed in the scrum and their ears go bumpy,’ said Copper Pie. We ignored him.
‘Perhaps it’s not mad,’ said Fifty, who had been quite quiet. ‘Have you ever heard your mum say to your dad, “Darling, do you notice anything different about me?”’ He used a squeaky girly voice and ran his fingers through his curls. ‘And your dad stands there with absolutely no idea what she’s on about, and your mum spins round and your dad’s sweating, knowing he hasn’t got a clue, willing his eyes to spot what’s improved or changed colour, or disappeared altogether, and he says, “New haircut? New dress? Facelift?”
‘And she shakes her head and looks annoyed and he tries even harder, “New earrings? No glasses?” (She doesn’t even wear glasses.) “You’ve lost weight?”
‘And finally, before she slams the door in his face, she says, “I’ve had the enormous hairy mole removed from my chin”.’
‘That’s what happened when Dad grew his beard. Mum didn’t notice for weeks,’ said Copper Pie.
‘So do you mean everyone will see our mashed-potato ear or whatever it is, but in their heads they’ll see the old one?’ said Bee.
‘Almost. Although I think the point is that they won’t even see the new ear,’ said Jonno. ‘If you see something everyday you don’t really look at it at all, you just use the picture you have in your head from before.’
‘Please revert to saved image,’ said Fifty, in a robot voice.
‘Cool,’ said Copper Pie.
Amazing. They all believed him. Just like that. All we had to do was put a bit of cauliflower covered with grey mould on the founder’s head and, according to Jonno, it had never happened.
I wasn’t going to make a fuss but I had my doubts.
‘OK. Best material for the ear. Any suggestions?’ said Jonno.
Fifty: ‘Dough.’
Me: ‘Pastry.’
Bee: ‘Blu-Tack.’
Me: ‘I know, that foam that you fill cracks with.’
Copper Pie: ‘Plasticine. Pitta bread.’
Fifty: ‘Cardboard.’
Bee: ‘Rice cakes.’
Fifty: ‘Wet nappies – they look grey.’
Bee: ‘A shell.’
Copper Pie: ‘Bogies.’
Bee took over. ‘Zip it. All of you.’ We all did what she said. We usually do. ‘I have no idea how to make an ear —’
‘Nor me,’ said Copper Pie.
Bee looked at me, Fifty and Jonno. ‘So why don’t you three make one while you�
�re here at Keener’s for tea?’
‘Fine by me,’ I said.
‘Same,’ said Fifty.
‘Good. That means we can concentrate on working out how we get the thing stuck on without being seen,’ said Bee.
‘What time does school open?’ asked Jonno.
Copper Pie looked at his watch. ‘Oh no! I’m meant to be home. I’ve got to go.’
‘A few minutes won’t make any difference. And anyway, I’ll come with you. Your mum never shouts when I’m there,’ said Bee.
‘Yes, she does.’
‘Well, she might not today.’
‘So when does school open?’ I said. I’m never there till just before the bell.
‘Quarter past eight,’ said Copper Pie. He gets in early to avoid all the babies arriving at his house. His mum runs a nursery on the bottom floor and they do their living in the top two.
‘OK,’ said Jonno. ‘Let’s meet at eight-fifteen at the end of that alley near —’
‘No. Not the alley,’ we all said before he could finish.
‘Make it the bus stop,’ said Bee.
Jonno looked confused but changed the plan anyway. ‘OK.’
‘Agreed, said Bee. ‘But then what?’
‘First thing is to make sure no one comes in while we’re fixing Stratton’s hearing aid, so how about this: we spill some water and then guard the doors and tell everyone who tries to come in, “The floor’s slippery so go round the back, please”.’
Not bad, but . . .
‘What if a teacher comes along, or the Head?’ I asked.
‘They never do,’ said Copper Pie. ‘The back door’s nearer the car park and they go straight up the back stairs to the staffroom to down double-strength coffee before they have to face us.’
‘But what about the ones who come on the bus . . . or walk?’ I asked.
‘We could try and send them round the back,’ said Bee. ‘And if they insist on coming in we show them the water . . . I suppose.’ She looked at Jonno – surely bossy Bee wasn’t checking to see what he thought.
‘That would work fine,’ said Jonno. ‘All their concentration will be on the wet floor, which will stop them looking at the statue. And if anyone’s coming through, whoever’s guarding the door can shout something like, “Don’t slip, Miss,” as a warning, so the ear surgeons have time to get away from Charlie Stratton before they’re caught.’
The Day the Ear Fell Off Page 3
