‘Nothing. We kept walking,’ said Jonno.
‘They’d seen us,’ said Copper Pie, ‘but they didn’t do anything.’
‘Until halfway down the alley . . .’ added Jonno.
‘And?’ It was like waiting for Christmas, listening to them plod through the story.
‘The girls started clapping.’ Jonno showed us: clap-clap, clap-clap-clap, clap-clap-clap-clap, CLAP-CLAP. ‘Like the crowd at football matches. Except instead of shouting “England” they shouted . . . “GINGER!”’
Ouch! Copper Pie wouldn’t have liked that.
‘I’d have given away my brother – and my mum – to have been watching Ronaldo instead,’ groaned C.P.
‘You should have legged it,’ said Fifty.
‘I would have done,’ said Copper Pie, ‘but he didn’t want to.’
‘Because you had completely failed to explain the danger!’
Jonno was getting a bit stressy.
‘Stop arguing and get on with it.’ How many times was I going to have to hurry them up?
‘Don’t drop your knitting, Keener,’ said Copper Pie.
I stuck my tongue out. So did he.
‘Stop it, children,’ said Bee.
‘OK. There was this girl with really long hair – I think she’s the leader – and she started singing . . . about ginger biscuits.’
I let out a small snort. I knew exactly the song Jonno was talking about.
Get back in your biscuit tin, Ginger. Ginger.
Get back in your biscuit tin, Ginger Ginger Nut.
It’s always Copper Pie’s hair they pick on. And it’s his hair he’s really sensitive about.
‘I know they were getting at me, but didn’t you guess they’d have a go at you next? said Copper Pie.
‘I was beginning to realise those girls weren’t the sort that like skipping and playing dollies,’ said Jonno.
‘Finally! The penny drops.’
‘But I still wasn’t scared. I mean, there were some leaning against the walls, some using the bollards as stools and a load standing behind chatting. Not exactly an army ready for action.’
‘What did you do?’ At last, something was going to happen.
Jonno looked at Copper Pie.
‘Jonno went right up to the girls . . . looking pretty cool,’ said Copper Pie, ‘but when he tried to step over the legs of one of them, she lifted her knee up —’
‘And I was left balancing with my leg in the air —’
Copper Pie finished off the sentence. ‘Like a stork with too much hair.’
‘Thanks,’ said Jonno.
‘What did she say to you?’ said Copper Pie. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘“How’s tricks, Frizzy?”’
Fair point, I thought. His hair is totally frizzy.
‘And she called you “cute”.’
‘She did,’ said Jonno, squirming.
‘And then they all started calling you names, like “Speccy”.’
‘And they called you “Ginger Puss”.’
‘I bet they miaowed too,’ I said. They’re not called the Alley Cats for nothing.
‘On the button, Keener,’ said Copper Pie. ‘They miaowed all right.’
‘I tried to get past them again but they all moved and made a wall. I had no idea what to do,’ said Jonno.
‘And then they started all their rubbish teasing . . .’
Copper Pie and Jonno used squeaky voices to act out the scene.
‘Are you late for something? Some cartoon that you like to watch after school? Or do you want to hurry and see your mummy?’
‘We haven’t seen you before, Frizzy. We’d remember you with that fluffy hair and those cool glasses. Are you Ginger’s new friend?’
‘Hey Ginger, where’s your girlfriend? Has she dumped you?’
‘We’ll find you a new girlfriend, won’t we girls? A nice redhead.’
‘And they kept shifting about to stop us barging through,’ said Copper Pie. ‘But I’d had enough, so I grabbed Jonno’s arm, put my head down and we drove through the wall of Alley Cats like we were in a rugby scrum.’
‘Did it work?’
‘Well, we lived,’ said Copper Pie.
‘There were hands and feet everywhere but we kept moving,’ said Jonno. ‘They patted us on the head – no one’s done that to me since I was about two! – and tried to trip us up, but Copper Pie wasn’t stopping so neither was I. No matter how many ballet pumps were in my way.’
‘I’d have ploughed through a brick wall if I’d had to.’
‘He would too,’ said Jonno.
What the Alley Cats do is torture. They don’t beat you up, they tease, like my big sister does. They’re crazy. No matter what you do, they embarrass you. They sing, and shout, and dance and clap. Copper Pie would normally stand up for himself with his fists but you can’t do that to girls (and I can’t do it to anyone). Last time they said Bee was his girlfriend and asked them if they’d kissed. They were both nearly sick.
For once, I was glad I’d had a lift home with Mum!
‘You got through, though – that’s the main thing,’ I said.
‘And they all lived happily ever after. The End,’ said Fifty.
‘Not quite,’ said Copper Pie. ‘Tell Keener what you said when we stopped running.’
‘“Remind me never to go that way again.”’
‘You missed a bit,’ said C.P. ‘The bit about me being right.’
‘You were right, Copper Pie. The alley’s a no-go zone, like you said.’
‘Is it the end now?’ I said. My writing hand was about to crumble and fall off like Charles Stratton’s ear.
Copper Pie and Jonno exchanged looks.
‘The end,’ they said. ‘Definitely.’
Except of course it wasn’t.
Tribe initiation
Bee threw her legs out of the hammock and stood up.
‘Tribers, I hate to say it, but this must be a sign. We need to make the alley safe, not just for us, but for all the kids from school who are scared to set foot on what is a piece of public property. We need to go down the alley. We need to show them that Tribe isn’t scared.’
But we are scared, I thought.
‘Wow! Some speech,’ said Fifty.
‘You might be right, Bee,’ said Jonno. ‘But once was enough. I’m not wild about the alley.’
‘Same,’ said Fifty.
‘Come on, guys. Why should a few big girls stop us from using a short cut home? It’s not right.’ Bee wasn’t going to give in without a fight.
‘Well, I’m not going down there ever again,’ I said.
‘Nor me,’ said Copper Pie.
‘I can’t believe you all,’ said Bee. ‘Sticks and stones and all that. The Cats wouldn’t actually hurt us – it’s just words. We’re in Year 6. Shouldn’t we be tough enough to barge past a load of silly girls in silly shoes with pouty lips?’
Jonno moved his head from side to side as though he was weighing it up. ‘You’re right,’ he said.
‘As usual,’ said Bee.
‘But that doesn’t mean I want to go back.’
‘But you will?’
Jonno nodded.
‘What about you, Fifty?’
‘If all the Tribers agree . . . maybe.’
(Fifty being brave? What’s happening?)
‘Come on, Copper Pie. Surely you’re in?’ said Bee.
‘Nope. Not in.’
Phew! No Copper Pie meant no Fifty and that meant no me.
Or it should have done, but Bee had other ideas. ‘Copper Pie, when you’re capped for England think how good it’ll look when someone digs up our time capsule and finds out about all the amazing things you did when you were a boy. Making the alley safe for all the kids would sound great.’
Surely he wasn’t going to fall for that?
Copper Pie spends his life waiting to be discovered by the England trainer and told to leave school immediately and kick a ball every day ins
tead. I could almost see the newspaper headline in his eyes: Goal-scoring genius Copper Pie revealed as schoolboy hero.
TRIBERS’ DREAMS
COPPER PIE: To be the most successful England captain ever.
KEENER: To ban cheese fondue.
BEE: To make lots of money doing something really good for the planet and be interviewed on telly.
JONNO: To discover something that’s meant to be extinct, like a dodo.
FIFTY: To grow.
‘Do you really think so?’ he asked.
‘Absolutely,’ said Bee.
Absolutely not, I thought. But I said, ‘Copper Pie, you can’t seriously think we should —’
‘I know, I know. But I don’t like being pushed around.’
‘And what sort of Tribe are we if we let other kids say where we can go and where we can’t?’ said Jonno.
Help!
Fifty was my only hope. I knew he didn’t really want to save the alley . . . but Jonno got there first. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
No, please. Surely they weren’t going to make it our next mission.
‘Maybe it should be our initiation,’ he said. ‘A way of being worthy enough to be a member of Tribe.’
‘Maybe it should,’ said Fifty. ‘Initiations are cool.’
‘Top idea,’ said Copper Pie. ‘Blood in. Blood out.’
‘What does that mean?’ I said. I had to know. I can’t do blood. If being in Tribe meant blood I’d have to resign. Suddenly being a breath-holder with no friends didn’t seem such a bad thing.
‘You’re sick,’ said Bee. ‘We’re not that sort of gang. Don’t worry, Keener. They only do the blood thing in comics.’
Phew!
‘Think about it,’ said Jonno. ‘Groups have initiations to test whether you’re brave enough or strong enough, or whatever, to join. Going down the alley fits perfectly. We all agreed the Alley Cats shouldn’t be allowed to torture everyone. Let’s be brave and show them we don’t care. If we go together and don’t listen to what they say, what’s to be scared of?’
‘Nothing. We can do it,’ said Copper Pie.
‘Well said, C.P. You’re one brave Triber.’ Bee gave him a cheesy smile, and then turned to me.
‘Keener, you need to shape up. No wusses in Tribe.’
Thanks, Bee!
‘You know why he’s chicken, don’t you?’ said Fifty, meaning me.
Jonno shook his head.
SECRETS THAT AREN’T SECRET
KEENER: Has a crush on Miss Walsh.
COPPER PIE: Can’t sleep without Trumpet, his baby elephant.
BEE: Sleeptalks whole conversations.
FIFTY: Still fits his age 3–4 Thomas the Tank Engine pyjamas.
JONNO: It’s still a secret.
‘Please don’t say it,’ I pleaded with Fifty. He wasn’t going to rat on me, was he?
‘Keener. We’re Tribe now. No secrets. All for one and one for all.’
‘Tell us, Fifty,’ said Bee.
‘They call him “Pinky Prince Charming”.’
‘Ha ha,’ I said, trying to sound like I didn’t care, but they were already laughing so it didn’t really work. I could feel my face going the Pinky Prince colour.
‘Why?’ said Jonno. Did he really need it spelling out?
‘Because that’s the colour he always goes when they ask him why he doesn’t plait his beautiful long blond hair.’
With friends like mine, who needs enemies! I can’t help the way my face behaves and all surfers have long hair and it’s not my fault I’m blond. I wished someone would change the subject.
Thankfully someone did – my sister Amy. ‘Mum’s home,’ she yelled. ‘She says ten minutes and then it’s tea for you and chucking out time for them.’
‘OK.’
‘Right,’ said Bee. ‘We’ve got ten minutes to work out the Tribe initiation.’
a load of useless ideas
Copper Pie spoke first.
‘It’s easy. We storm the alley with guns. I’ve got four – a spud gun, a cap gun, a water pistol and a cowboy gun with a holster that doesn’t do anything but looks good.’
Bee and I said, ‘No.’
‘Same,’ said Fifty.
‘We can’t do that,’ said Jonno. ‘It’ll start a war.’
Copper Pie’s eyes lit up.
‘We could scare them though, couldn’t we?’ said Bee. ‘We could wear balaclavas and run down the alley shouting. That would scare me.’
‘And me,’ I said. ‘I’d be scared wearing a balaclava.’
‘Same,’ said Fifty. ‘And I don’t look good in hats, they squash my hair.’
‘You’re all wimps,’ said Copper Pie, but he didn’t mean it . . . I don’t think.
‘Really we should tell the Head and leave it to her to sort out,’ I said.
Everyone groaned.
‘The alley’s not school property. She wouldn’t do anything,’ said Bee.
‘So, apart from storming them, which is unlikely to work, we’ve got no ideas,’ said Fifty, nicely summing up the situation.
There was a pause while we all had a think (or pretended to anyway). I was concentrating really hard on a solution that would make Tribe look good, rather than evil. I hoped the others were too (except Copper Pie, who can’t think ‘nice’). Because we’d given ourselves a label, I felt we had to live up to it. A gang could wear balaclavas and all that, but not Tribe.
‘Why do you think they do it?’ asked Fifty.
More silence.
Fifty said it again. ‘Those girls in the alley, why do you think they stop everyone and tease them?’
I shrugged to show I wasn’t deaf, I just didn’t have an answer.
‘Because they can,’ said Jonno. ‘Because there are loads of them.’
‘There must be fifteen at least,’ said Copper Pie. ‘That’s a rugby team.’
‘Safety in numbers and all that,’ said Bee. ‘It makes them brave.’
‘Yeah, I bet they wouldn’t be so brave on their own.’
Ping. Something that Copper Pie said made a light bulb come on in Jonno’s head. It was so obvious we could almost see the light shining through his eye sockets. We waited for him to reveal all.
‘Go on, Jonno. We know you’ve thought of something,’ said Fifty.
‘Maybe I have,’ he said. ‘They’re brave because there are lots of them. Maybe we could split them up.’
‘Qué?’ said Bee. Another one of her pet expressions. It means ‘what’ in somewhere she went on holiday.
‘Do you know anything about herd behaviour?’
‘You mean listening?’ I said.
‘No. Not “heard” as in ears. We’ve done ears, remember! “Herd” as in cows.’
‘Like “flock”,’ I said to make it clear I understood.
Every other name for a group came next, not all of them in the dictionary.
TRIBERS’ FAVOURITE WORDS FOR GROUPS
• A crash of rhinoceroses
• A murder of crows
• A scrum of Copper Pies (made up by Fifty)
• A flange of baboons
• A prickle of hedgehogs
• A general knowledge of Jonnos
• A library of Keeners (made up by Fifty)
• A parcel of deer
• A nuisance of cats
• An implausibility of gnus
• A bossiness of Bees (Anonymous)
• A runt of Fiftys (also Anonymous)
‘Cut,’ said Bee, slicing the air with her hand. We shut up.
‘So they’re a herd of girls and they move in a pack. How does that help?’
‘Herds all go the same way, don’t they?’ said Jonno.
‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Bee can be horrible sometimes.
‘Well, I read somewhere that if one animal splits off in another direction the herd will let him go, but if two animals bolt the herd assumes there’s a good reason for it, like a predator they can’t see, and t
hey all follow.’
‘Thrilling,’ said Bee, hands on hips now. ‘But we’re dealing with girls, not sheep, cows or wildebeest, and there are no predators.’
I butted in. ‘Apes and humans are ninety-eight per cent the same.’
‘So what you’re saying is that we’re all sheep?’ said Fifty.
‘Yes. Most people are sheep because they like following, not leading,’ said Jonno. He was quite excited by his idea – but he was the only one.
‘What’s this biology lesson got to do with the alley?’ snapped Copper Pie, who was chucking a scrumpled up pork pie wrapper against my window and trying to catch it.
‘Well, if we could get two of the girls to run off, then the others should follow and we could take their place,’ said Jonno.
‘If we could work out how to get two of them to run, we could get all of them to run,’ said Bee. ‘Forget it.’
‘So we’re back to weapons,’ said you-know-who.
‘No,’ said Bee. ‘You can’t walk down an alley and take potshots at strangers – even if you’re only firing spuds. We’d be arrested.’
‘Well, what’s your big idea then, bossy?’ said Copper Pie.
‘Ooooooh!’ said Fifty. ‘She won’t like that.’
‘Well, she can lump it because she hasn’t got an idea.’
‘Have so.’ Bee obviously hadn’t got an idea, but was desperately trying to think of one.
We waited. Copper Pie folded his arms and stared at her.
‘Cakes,’ she said.
‘Is it word association?’ said Fifty. ‘Icing.’
‘Frostbite,’ said Jonno.
She did the fringe flick – a sign that she was serious and we were all numbskulls.
‘I’ll make some cupcakes and we can take them up the alley and give them to the Alley Cats. Everyone loves cupcakes.’
It was so bonkers no one said anything.
‘I assume that’s agreed then?’ She looked around like an auctioneer doing that ‘going once, going twice’ thing before banging his hammer and shouting ‘Sold’. Our time was nearly up.
‘No, it’s not. We should vote,’ said Copper Pie. He pointed his pointing finger at Bee and pretended to pull the trigger. It was getting a bit out of hand. I prefer it when C.P. and Bee are on the same side.
‘Fine,’ said Fifty. ‘Friends, nobles, countrymen —’
The Day the Ear Fell Off Page 6
