She was gone, leaving her tray. I tidied it away for her.
‘Oh well, time to babysit the Head’s naughty chair.’
Copper Pie got up and grabbed the bag from under his seat.
‘Better leave that with us, idiot,’ said Fifty.
We hung around under the trees, looking after the bag. I couldn’t help thinking it would have been better if he’d put the guns in his kit bag or a rucksack. Or hidden them under a bush and picked them up after school. I kept expecting sparks and bangs, like fireworks.
Jonno was picking the bark again. ‘Look, I think it might be a longhorn beetle.’
‘That’s too little to be a long anything,’ said Fifty.
Jonno didn’t take any notice. ‘There are loads of things that live under the bark: cobweb beetles, weevils . . .’
They had a great long conversation about all the grubs and bugs in our area, but I only half listened. I was wondering where Callum was. He definitely wasn’t in the playground.
Maybe he was waiting outside the staffroom, ready to rat on us about the ‘weapons’?
CONVERSATION BETWEEN CALLUM AND HIS DEPUTY, JAMIE
Callum: I don’t like the way Copper Pie’s lot have joined up with that kooky new kid.
Deputy: Nor me, Cal.
Callum: Have you seen that plastic bag they’re lugging around everywhere?
Deputy: I have, Cal.
Callum: What d’you think’s in it?
Deputy: Don’t know, Cal.
Callum: Well, find out then.
Deputy: How can I do that, Cal?
Callum: I don’t know. But I want to know what’s in that bag.
Deputy: Got it, Cal.
Callum: What you waiting for then?
happy birthday!
Why was Callum’s dozy deputy, Jamie West, standing by me in the line-up for afternoon school?
‘What’s in the bag, Keener?’
I tightened my hand round the bunched up plastic. How come I’d ended up with the loot?
‘Get back in your kennel,’ said Fifty.
‘I’m not a dog,’ said Jamie.
‘Why do you go around on the end of Callum’s lead then?’
I wished Fifty would shut up. It was my sweaty hand that was holding the bag of guns!
Jonno was in the loo so it was only the two of us. We were no match for Jamie. If he grabbed the bag we were finished.
Or were we?
‘Hey Jamie,’ shouted Bee, running across the playground. ‘You don’t mind if I push in, do you?’
She elbowed her way past him.
‘Do you want something?’ she asked him.
He was going to answer but she interrupted before he got the first word out. ‘No? Well, why don’t you go somewhere you’re wanted then?’ She nodded towards the front of the queue where Callum was standing with his back to us.
Where did he pop up from?
‘Show me what’s in the bag and I’ll go.’
‘No can do. It’ll ruin the surprise.’
‘What surprise?’
‘Do you promise you won’t tell?’
‘Promise,’ he said.
Don’t tell him, Bee, said the voice in my head.
She whispered in his ear.
‘Really?’ he said.
She nodded. He grinned (not something you see often), and went to report back to Callum.
‘What did you say?’ Fifty asked
‘You didn’t tell him we had —’
Bee cut me off. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’
We both shook our heads.
She moved the black hair away from her eyes and looked at us as though she was our nursery teacher and we were three again.
‘I told Jamie that it’s Jonno’s birthday today and we’ve bought in a piñata for end of school but not to say anything because we haven’t asked Miss Walsh yet. Satisfied?’
It was a good lie. Piñatas come in all sorts of weird shapes, like donkeys and stars, and the stick you whack them with to get the sweets out would explain the pokey bit made by Copper Pie’s longest gun.
‘An excellent lie, Bee. Top marks for being dishonest. You should try it more often,’ said Fifty.
She stuck her tongue out at him.
The afternoon seemed to go on forever. I’m not sure what I was more worried about: offering cakes to the Alley Cats or Callum and Jamie demanding a piñata after school. Luckily I remembered that I could make the voice in my head say whatever I like.
The crocodile in my pocket likes bubblewrap.
In between making up my silly sentences (I was meant to be reading), I heard a ‘Psst!’ It was Fifty. Using sign language he managed to say: ‘Meet at the end of the alley straight after school.’
I did a thumbs up in return.
(That gave me another good idea for Tribe – our own set of signs for sending messages.)
I put everything away in my desk, apart from my book, so that I was ready for the bell. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t last, just in case.
Finally, the bell went.
‘Right, class,’ said Miss Walsh. ‘Don’t forget that I want you to bring in as many newspapers as you can next week, because we’re going to build bridges. And Jonno, could you stay behind for a minute?’
Disaster! No. He can’t stay behind. Definitely not. No.
I tried frantically to catch someone’s eye, but Bee and Copper Pie and Fifty were all too busy catching each others’ and I kept missing.
I didn’t know what to do. Should I dash to the alley like Fifty said, or wait for Jonno and hope he could talk to Miss Walsh and still get out without Callum singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and demanding his swipe at the donkey or whatever?
I put my rucksack on and waited for a sign.
Jonno weaved his way to the front, past Copper Pie, who immediately upped and left, past Bee, who followed dragging Fifty with her and finally to me.
‘Go,’ he said.
Knowing me, you’d think I’d have been relieved, but I found myself not wanting to leave Jonno on his own. Courage. Very strange.
‘Shall I wait in the corridor?’ I whispered.
‘No. Go.’
Callum and Jamie were already hanging around by Miss Walsh’s desk. They were obviously determined to get a share of the sweets. I couldn’t see any way Jonno could escape without trouble.
‘Get a move on, Keener.’
It was Copper Pie’s voice coming from the gap in the doorframe.
As soon as I was through the door, I was swept up and propelled along the corridor and down the stairs by my ginger friend. I tried to dig my heels in but he’s stronger than me.
‘Let go! I want to wait for Jonno.’
‘Why?’
‘In case he . . . needs help.’
Copper Pie stopped dead and I kept going and banged into him.
‘What help are you gonna be?’
‘Thanks,’ I said. It’s nice to know what your friends think of you!
‘See you at the alley then. If you make it.’
I didn’t need Copper Pie to say that. I was already regretting my decision. But I’d said I’d wait. So I did. I crept back up to where we hang our stuff, climbed up on to the bench and burrowed into a couple of old coats that had been there since the winter, or maybe the winter before.
I could hear talking but not the words because there were too many people still in the classroom.
Alice came out. Then Rose. Then Archie.
I stayed very still and tried to look like part of the coat – if it works for an egg-box-ear, why shouldn’t it work for me? I didn’t want to have to answer any questions about why I was loitering.
Tom. Molly.
Come on, Jonno.
The longer I waited, the hotter I got. And the hotter I got, the more panicky I felt.
Joe. Roddy. Jack.
There can’t have been many kids left.
I wanted to peep but the thought of coming face to face with an angry Call
um put me off.
Come on, Jonno.
I was feeling a bit faint. The coat was itchy against my neck and the hood had worked its way down over my forehead so I couldn’t see properly.
‘Happy birthday to you . . .’ Oh no! Miss Walsh’s voice was like a loudspeaker. More voices joined in, all singing to the birthday boy. You see, that’s what happens when you tell lies. One lie leads to another – my mum always says that.
‘Happy birthday, dear Jo-nno. Happy Birthday to you.’
A flash of big hair and specs ran past the coats. What’s happening? I leapt down off the bench and raced after it. The coat came with me but there was no time to sort it out. I had to get away before Callum and Jamie realised there was no piñata and no birthday. My heart was doing that boom boom thing. I didn’t dare turn round. I ran as fast as I could after Jonno’s feet. I couldn’t see the rest of him because half my face was blindfolded by the hood. Thankfully, somewhere between the bottom of the stairs and the outside door it lost its grip and slid off, just in time for me to swerve round Mr Dukes and pile out into the playground. I dodged a game of football and jumped over a pile of girls’ bags. The path was clear after that so I picked up speed.
I caught up with him at the gates where he’d stopped for a second. I checked behind. There was no sign of Callum or Jamie. Phew!
Neither of us spoke. We were both panting so it wasn’t really an option. Jonno tilted his head in the direction of the alley and we were off again.
In front of us we could see the other Tribers. They were clapping.
‘We’d almost given up hope,’ said Bee.
‘What took you?’ asked Copper Pie.
‘Well done,’ said Fifty. ‘I thought Treats, Talk or Torture might have to be postponed.’
Something about the plastic look on his face made me think that was what he was hoping for.
‘Are you all right, Keener?’ Bee asked me. My face was burning so I knew it must be bright red . . .
‘You’re purple,’ said Copper Pie.
. . . or purple.
‘Thanks.’ I started frantically blowing upwards to try and make my face a normal colour before I had to face the Alley Cats.
‘So, what happened?’ asked Bee. ‘You obviously got away without Callum trying to hit you with a stick to get the sweets out of you.’
‘Only just,’ said Jonno. ‘Miss Walsh said she hoped I’d enjoyed my first week. I didn’t have time to answer because Callum interrupted and told her it was my birthday.’
‘Nice one, Callum!’ said Copper Pie.
‘He also told her that we were having a piñata. I pretended to be shocked. Like this.’
Jonno opened his mouth wide and made his eyes all goggly.
‘So how did you get away?’ asked Bee.
‘I waited while they sang “Happy Birthday” to me and then said I was going to find the piñata.’
‘And?’ Bee’s not very patient.
‘And I ran away.’
‘Cool,’ said Fifty. ‘You left them waiting for the invisible piñata. They’re probably still there.’
‘But what about you, Keener?’ said Bee. ‘Copper Pie said you stayed behind to help. We didn’t believe him, of course.’
‘Well, you should have. I hid in the coats and waited for Jonno.’
‘There you go, Bee. Wrong again,’ said Jonno, winking.
‘I apologise,’ said Bee. ‘And declare that you, Keener, are officially no longer a wuss.’
‘Thank you.’ I bowed my head as if I was being knighted. Keener of Tribe, OBE.
‘Come on, then,’ I said. ‘Initiation time. Let’s all prove ourselves worthy of the name “Triber”.’
I took a step towards the alley.
facing the mob
We turned into the alley, all five of us in a row. At one end there was Bee, holding the cake tin. Next, Copper Pie in charge of the plastic bag. Then me, Fifty and Jonno. A line of Tribers.
We looked straight ahead at the familiar sight – an alley full of girls, lolling about, laughing and chatting.
What did we think we were doing? Never again, we’d all said. The alley was out of bounds. Why were we bothering? Did we need an initiation? Couldn’t we be Tribers without being brave?
Because of all the trouble with Callum, I hadn’t had much time to worry about the alley. But standing there, not knowing what was going to happen, was super-stressy. I tried to stay calm by imagining the girls were big versions of Flo, but she’s quite scary so it wasn’t one of my best ideas. Keener the Brave was shrinking back into Keener the Notso-Brave, at speed.
I took a breath and felt Fifty do the same. I could tell he was nervous about his role in the initiation. Who wouldn’t be? He had to do all the talking. I was glad I’d sided with Copper Pie – I was fairly sure I could leave all the gun stuff to him.
We made our way, slowly, down the alley.
‘When do I speak, Keener?’ said Fifty in a sort of quiet hiss.
Why was he asking me? I waited for someone else to answer . . .
Bee reached across and nudged me. ‘Tell him, Keener.’
I don’t know, I thought. I’m not in charge.
‘It’s your plan. You’re in charge.’
I swear they hear my thoughts.
There was complete silence. I didn’t even try and make a plan. I thought about Flo who was at home probably having a piece of chocolate cake and a drink of blackcurrant and wished I was too.
‘Hey look, girls! Our friends have come to play.’
The Alley Cats turned round to stare at us. I stopped walking. The rest of the Tribers did the same. Being in charge was horrendous. I vowed I’d never have an idea ever again.
‘Frizzy! Back so soon. Did you miss us?’
‘And Ginger Puss. Miaow.’
‘It’s the Pinky Prince too. And Ginger’s girlfriend.’
‘And Titch. Shouldn’t you be at nursery?’
I could feel the Tribers’ eyes on me. I had to do something. We were like skittles standing in a line, waiting to be knocked over.
‘Now, Fifty. Now,’ I said and pushed him in front of us.
He stood there and wound one of his curls round his finger, which is something he used to do when he was little.
‘Have you got something to say, Titch? Go on, don’t be afraid.’
‘Hi,’ he said. It came out a bit squeaky. ‘We, er . . . we wondered . . .’
‘I think he’s trying to ask you for a date, Sass.’
Sass, the one with the hair down to her knees, stood up and smiled at Fifty. It was scary.
‘I’d love to go out with you, Titch. You’re so cute but —’
‘Stop it!’ Fifty shouted.
The girls started to laugh.
‘I mean it.’
Poor Fifty. It was a disaster. They were never going to listen to him. I looked across at Jonno, hoping he was going to magic up some way of us not looking like complete idiots. He looked straight back at me.
Copper Pie nudged me . . . a bit too hard. ‘Ow!’
‘Oh Pinky! Did Ginger hurt you?’ the Sass girl said.
As she came towards us, she threw all her blond hair to one side so it was hanging over her shoulder. She looked like Rapunzel. A few of the others followed her.
THINGS WRONG WITH RAPUNZEL, THE FAIRY TALE
Rapunzel was locked in a tall tower by a witch. There was no key and no door. (So how did she get in there then?)
The witch climbed up Rapunzel’s ridiculously long hair. (Why didn’t she use her broom?)
One day a handsome prince came. (An ugly prince would have been less predictable.)
He climbed up her hair too and they fell in love. (She wouldn’t have fallen in love with someone who had pulled her hair because it hurts.)
The witch tricked the prince. He fell and was blinded. (He’d have died – it was a tall tower remember?)
Rapunzel escaped and found him begging. Her tears gave him back his sight. They
all lived happily ever after. (Not true – the witch didn’t.)
Oh help!
Everyone knows mobs are dangerous. Even if in real life they’re ballet teacher or baby-minders, put a load of people together and they’ll start fighting. We could be beaten to a pulp. And pulp means blood and gore.
I was clear about one thing – if they came any closer we were going to have to abandon the initiation. If we failed, we’d just have to put up with being unworthy of belonging to Tribe. I could cope with that.
‘What’s brought your little gang here today then, Pinky?’
She was talking to me. I could feel my face getting warm all over again. She was looking straight at me. It was definitely a moment for some of Fifty’s mum’s magic.
I gave myself a lecture inside my head.
Pinky . . . That’s just a word. Like ‘bubblewrap’. It can’t hurt me. And neither will they. They’re teasing, like Amy does, because they’re older than us.
She waited for me to answer.
I waited to see if I had anything else to say to myself . . .
Nope, the lecture seemed to be over. I took a deep breath.
‘Actually, we’re not a gang. We’re Tribe,’ I said.
It came out pretty good. Loudish. Not squeaky. No one laughed at me. I checked behind – Jonno made a carry-on sign with his eyes.
So I carried on. ‘And we’d like to come down the alley without you lot shouting at us.’
Good stuff, I thought.
‘Ahh! Bless. We’ve scared them,’ she said, looking round at her mates. I was getting ready to say the guns and cakes bit (I was, honest) when Bee barged past me with the tin.
‘It’s simple. We’ve got weapons in there . . .’ She turned round and pointed at the bag. Copper Pie did an evil grin. ‘Or we’ve got cakes.’ She opened the tin.
You should have seen their faces. It was like happy dust had been sprinkled all over them. The girls all whooped, and ahh-ed and wowee-ed. I could see why. Bee had made about thirty cakes, all with different coloured icing and flowers made of pink and white marshmallow petals with Smarties for the middles. They looked amazing.
‘Did you make those?’
Bee nodded.
‘For us?’
‘Yes, but only if you agree to stop being bullies.’ She’d used the b-word. That wasn’t going to go down well.
The Day the Ear Fell Off Page 8
