Balaclava Boy

by Jenny Robson

  When home-time came, we swung into action with Dumisani’s Plan B. It was a stunning plan. The best! We followed Tommy at a distance all the way to his home on Daffodil Street. We acted like proper secret service spies, hiding behind hedges and parked cars so Tommy wouldn’t spot us.

  Once he was in his house, we crept around the side. There were some wooden crates there. So we stacked them against the wall and climbed up on them. Then we were tall enough to see through the window.

  Tommy was already in the room. His mom came in and gave him a big hug. She said, “How was school, sweet-heart? Did you find someone nice to be friends with? This is the last time we’re going to move, promise. Dad’s taken a permanent job here now.”

  We acted like proper secret service spies.

  Tommy lifted up both hands and began to pull off his balaclava.

  Then Tommy lifted up both hands and began to pull off his balaclava. Dumisani and I held our breath. Again.

  5

  Wednesday Questions

  “And then? What happened then?” Cherise wanted to know. First thing on Wednesday morning. Dumisani and I were at school early again. Long before line-up. For the second day in a row!

  “Come on, Doo Dudes, tell me!” Cherise had her hands on her hips. But at least she was calling us by our proper nickname.

  So we told her the rest of our spy story. It didn’t have a good ending. Dumisani’s wooden crate had broken under him with a loud crack. Then a huge dog, a Rottweiler or something, came rushing and snarling round the corner. With huge strings of saliva dangling and swinging from its vampire teeth.

  “We had to run for our lives!” Dumisani said. “It would have ripped us apart! So we didn’t see Tommy with his balaclava off.”

  Cherise shook her head at us like we were total idiots.

  “But don’t worry,” I said, “because now we’re going to try Plan C.” I’d only just thought of Plan C, right at that moment! I whispered it to Dumisani so Cherise couldn’t hear.

  With huge strings of saliva dangling and swinging from its vampire teeth.

  Dumisani laughed. “Hey, Doogz! That’s not a bad idea! Let’s hit the road!”

  So we rushed around the playground, explaining Plan C to everyone in Grade Four SV. Except Cherise, of course. Down at the soccer field, we told Obakeng and Riyaad and the rest. We made Thandi and Hannah stop their clapping game long enough to listen.

  We found Donna-Kyle, aka Factfile, aka Discovery Channel. She was under a tree with an encyclopaedia and Mpho, aka Mousie Mousie.

  Donna-Kyle nodded. “That might work, Big Ds. I must admit, I’m getting really curious.”

  Mpho said nothing. As usual.

  And then Tommy arrived with his school bag and a beige balaclava with white stripes.

  My Plan C was going like a Boeing. Purring like a Porsche! Racing like a Lamborghini in fifth gear!

  We sat in class, writing notes about cleaning your teeth. But everyone had more important stuff to think about than dental floss.

  Mostly, everyone was trying to find an excuse to walk past Tommy’s desk.

  Hannah managed first.

  She stuck up her hand and her voice boomed out:

  “Please, Miss. Can I get my pink pencil crayon, Miss? From Beatrice, Miss. For the gums on the diagram, Miss.”

  She walked to Beatrice’s desk the long way round. As she passed Tommy, she bent and whispered through his balaclava: “Hey, dude, why are you wearing that thing?”

  “Hey, dude, why are you wearing that thing?”

  “I’m desperate, Miss,” he groaned.

  Then Obakeng put up his long, long arm so his track-suit sleeve slid down to his elbow. “Please, Miss, I need the toilet.”

  “Is it urgent, Obakeng?”

  Obakeng screwed up his face like he was suffering big time. “I’m desperate, Miss,” he groaned. But he wasn’t so desperate that he didn’t have time to stop at Tommy’s desk.

  “Hey, New Bru,” he whispered. “We really need to know. Why have you got that thing on your head?”

  And so it went on.

  And on.

  Dumisani and I smiled while we drew caps and scarves and smiley faces on our tooth diagrams. So they looked like rows of soccer fans.

  We were sure: sooner or later Tommy would get sick of hearing the same question.

  Sooner or later he’d crack. He’d tell us what we were all dying to know. Just to make us stop!

  Even Billy, aka Lost In Space, found an excuse to walk past Tommy’s desk. Once he got there, he forgot what he was supposed to say. But at least he tried.

  Miss Venter was losing her patience, though. “What’s got into all of you? You’re like jack-in-the-boxes! Worse than yesterday. Dear! Dear! Dear!”

  Thandi started coughing. Loudly, of course.

  She patted her chest until powder hung like a cloud over our heads. Thandi started coughing. Loudly, of course.

  But Tommy, aka Balaclava Boy, aka New Bru, didn’t crack. No matter how many Grade Fours leaned over his desk. The only answer he whispered back was “Because”. After a while, he stopped even saying that much.

  6

  Wednesday Answers

  Dumisani and I knelt down by our bags to get our lunch-boxes. We weren’t feeling happy. And Cherise just made it worse.

  She smirked down at us. She said, “If you want something done properly, then you have to get a girl to sort it. Now you two can watch and learn!”

  She spent the whole break whispering to the other Grade Fours while they skipped or ate their lunch or played soccer. Or went to the duty teacher, Mrs Twetwe, to complain that the Grade Fives had stolen their ball. Again.

  We followed Cherise around the playground. But the only thing we heard her say was, “Don’t tell Tommy. And don’t tell the Doo Dudes. It’s a surprise.”

  And no one would tell us either. Not Obakeng nor X-man nor Riyaad, aka Rough Stuff.

  After break, things got weird. It was creative writing. We were supposed to write a story about ‘My Most Exciting Holiday’ for Miss Venter. But instead, everyone else was scribbling on pieces of paper. And then they passed their notes along the rows to Cherise. Carefully, so Miss Venter didn’t notice.

  Everyone else was scribbling on pieces of paper.

  We kept turning around, Dumisani and I. But Cherise kept slipping the notes into her dictionary. Quickly, so we couldn’t see. She was smirking again. And her dictionary got fatter and fatter.

  “This sucks!” said Dumisani. “This sucks big time!”

  We gave up. We went back to writing about our stupid boring Most Exciting Holidays.

  By the time the home-bell rang, we were going crazy with curiosity.

  We didn’t rush out the classroom with the others. Instead we hung around Cherise’s desk, hoping.

  In the end she made us go down on our knees. Right down on both knees – well, all four knees – and beg.

  We had to promise never to be rude to her again. Nor pull faces at her.

  We had to say that yes, girls were much cleverer than boys.

  We had to say that yes, girls were much cleverer than boys.

  It was embarrassing! But at least there was no one else left in the classroom to see. It was just us three. Well, us three plus the head cleaner, Mr Plaatjies, aka Rocket Man, aka Cape Canaveral. He was sweeping at full throttle, making the dust fly with his supersonic broom.

  “Okay,” Cherise said at last. She opened up her dictionary. “There you go.”

  The notes were awesome! Stunning! Completely worth begging for! They were all the reasons why our classmates thought Tommy wore a balaclava. We read them one by one.

  Cos his ears are big and they stik out like cabiges so he gets imbarissed. Love from Hannah.

  Because all his hairs fell out. From Moketsi aka THE TERMINATOR.

  His Mommy said he must because it is winter. Leila January.

  Coz hez a famous football star and hez hiding from all his fanz. BY: Xavier
Fernandez aka X-man.

  Dumisani and I read on and on. And on. We forgot all about it being home-time. And Cherise didn’t rush us. She just kept putting more notes in front of us.

  She just kept putting more notes in front of us.

  His mother loves knitting but she can only knit balaclavas cos she only got a pattern for balaclavas so she can’t knit other things. Love Yasmiena.

  Eish! Cos he is so ugly. He will make us scared if we ever see his face. Maybe we will turn into rock from shock. Eish! Even uglier than Gary penfold in grade Seven. By Johan Eksteen Clayton.

  Becos he doesn’t want to get germs like sars and mad cow DISEES so it works like a mask or otherwise maybe he has got a DISEES so he doesn’t want us to catch it. Written by Riyaad Desai aka Rough Stuff aka WWF aka THE STRONGEST BOY IN THE SCHOOL.

  There was an extra-long, extra-amazing one by Mpho, aka Mousie Mousie. She wrote that Tommy might be in a witness protection programme because he’d seen a murder. And the police had told Mr Rasool that Tommy must keep his face covered. In case the murderer’s friends tried to silence him.

  “I wonder why she keeps so quiet when she can think of stuff like this?!” Dumisani said.

  Then there was a weird reason from Obakeng in his weird writing that was as long and skinny as his arms and legs.

  Its coz the New Bru is n ALIEN. With a purple nose n green lips. He got sent to Earth 2 C how intlgnt we R. Shame he must sit bhind the Big Dz. Coz now he thinx we R all IDIYOTS. – Only joking, Dumz + Doogz. From Obakeng aka O-Rang-O-Tang Armz.

  Even Billy de Beer had written something. It wasn’t anything to do with Tommy or the balaclava. Instead it was about some weaverbird’s nest in the tree outside. But at least he tried.

  “See, this is my plan,” Cherise explained. “On Friday I’m going to read them all out for Free Orals. Then maybe Tommy will get sick of hearing the wrong reasons. So he’ll maybe tell us the right one.” She packed the notes back in her dictionary and put her dictionary in her case.

  Dumisani and I ran home together. Fast, in case his mom was worrying.

  “Do you reckon Cherise’s plan will work?” I asked when I got some breath.

  But Dumisani didn’t answer. He just ran on with his bag bouncing against his back. I knew what his problem was. He was worried that Cherise would use up all the Free Orals time with her notes. And then he wouldn’t get a chance.

  Dumisani loves doing Friday Free Orals. It’s his favourite lesson of the whole week. He loves standing up in front of everyone, talking on and on. And on! Without Miss Venter or anyone telling him to shush.

  7

  Thursday Assembly

  But on Thursday we forgot all about Cherise’s plan for Free Orals. Thursday was the day of The Attack. For a long time afterwards, Grade Four SV talked about that day.

  Like every Thursday, it started with Assembly. All of us from Grade One to Grade Seven sat on the hall floor. In our green tracksuits. We looked like one huge bumpy sloping indoor lawn. Tommy was wearing his red-and-orange striped balaclava again. So it looked like some confused bird had dropped an apricot on the grass.

  Our headmaster, Mr Rasool, aka Mr Mosi, was talking about being kind. Most times in Assembly he talks about being kind. Or caring for others.

  “Children,” he said. “There is so much cruelty in this world! We must not add to it. No! We must be sunbeams of joy and kindness.”

  Mr Rasool had tears in his eyes. He often gets tears in his eyes when he speaks about stuff like kindness. Sometimes the tears run down his cheeks.

  But the Grade Five NM bullies didn’t want to be sunbeams of joy and kindness! No! They sat just behind Balaclava Boy. And Dumisani and I could hear the mean things they were whispering.

  “Hey, Sock-head! Are you hiding a pumpkin in there? Or maybe you’ve got a squashed tomato for a head?”

  Are you hiding a pumpkin in there?

  “Hey, Tea-cosy-brain! What happens when you sneeze? Yuck! Snot squashed everywhere!”

  We Doo Dudes shifted up closer to Tommy. In case he was feeling bad about being new and being mocked.

  After Assembly there was a stupid boring spelling test. Cherise got twenty out of twenty. As usual. She bounced around her desk like this was the first time she’d ever got full marks. Poor Tommy! He nearly went sliding right off onto the floor.

  Then Miss Venter put us in groups to do a transport worksheet about steam engines. That was more fun. In my group, I had a huge argument with Sheldon about which one was faster: a Ferrari or a Maserati. Well, until our group leader, Yasmiena, got upset.

  “Doogal! Sheldon! Shush!” she ordered. “We’ve got to draw a steam engine now. So quit jabbering about other stuff!” Yasmiena is quite bossy. Even if she is so tiny that her plaits nearly reach the ground.

  Dumisani’s group sat on the carpet behind me. So I could hear him having a huge argument with Donna-Kyle. About their drawing.

  “I’m telling you, Big D,” Donna-Kyle was saying, “you can’t draw a train-surfer on top of a steam train. They didn’t have train-surfers in the old days. So rub him out!”

  “Aah, come on, man! Live a little,” Dumisani argued back. “I bet Billy likes my train-surfer. Don’t you, Billy?” But of course Billy was too busy looking out the window to answer.

  Yes, it was good fun! Best of all, Miss Venter didn’t tell us to shush. We were supposed to be talking, discussing the worksheet. So the Dragon Lady just walked around the classroom smiling.

  And then came break. And The Attack.

  Dumz and I were just finishing off his banana yoghurt when we saw something really bad. The Grade Five NM bullies were dragging Tommy off to the bush behind Mr Plaatjies’ shed.

  Everyone knows the kind of stuff that goes on behind that shed!

  We jumped up. We rushed to the soccer field to scream for Riyaad and JECO and the rest.

  “Tommy’s in trouble! The bullies have got Balaclava Boy! Let’s go! Let’s move it!”

  By the time we reached the bush behind the shed, the situation was drastic. The bullies had Tommy down on the gravel. They were holding his legs to stop him kicking. They were punching his arms to make him let go of his balaclava.

  Tommy’s in trouble!

  Tommy held on as tightly as he could. But he was losing the battle. Already his neck was showing. And part of his chin. There was a bright red stain on the wool above his nose. It looked more like blood than a red stripe.

  He was screeching louder than the Power Station siren. “Leave me alone! Ow! O-O-O-O-W!”

  We rushed in to rescue him. We used all the strength we had. Riyaad, aka Rough Stuff, aka WWF, was head-butting their leader, Cedric Carson, in the stomach. Obakeng whirled his long arms round and round like helicopter blades. Dumisani and I knelt there next to Tommy’s head, trying to yank Grade Five fingers off his balaclava. And Moketsi yelled at the top of his voice, “I’ll tell Miss Venter! I’ll tell Mr Rasool! You wait! You’ll all get expelled!”

  It was hopeless, though. We didn’t really stand a chance, not even with Riyaad on our side. The bullies were bigger and stronger and much, much meaner. Already part of Tommy’s bottom lip was showing under the bloodstain.

  Just then Cherise appeared with Mrs Twetwe, the teacher on duty.

  Mrs Twetwe is mega-large and mega-strict and big time fierce and scary! She’s the only teacher in the whole school without a nickname. No one has ever dared to think up one for her. Not even the Grade Sevens.

  Mrs Twetwe blew her duty whistle. Hard! Everyone stopped to cover their poor ears. “The whole lot of you: Mr Rasool’s office! Now!” she commanded. No one dared to argue.

  8

  Thursday Sixth Period

  “Fighting?!” Mr Rasool shook his head sadly at all of us. “Children, our world is full of violence. And now you want to add more? Right here in Colliery Primary?”

  Big tears started running down our headmaster’s cheeks. They plopped onto the papers on his desk. But then he noticed the blood
staining Tommy’s balaclava. So he sent us Grade Fours back to Miss Venter. The Grade Fives had to stay behind and listen some more.

  Dumisani and I walked with Tommy safe between us. Tommy was limping and rubbing his arm. But he didn’t seem bothered. Instead he wanted to talk about Mr Rasool.

  “I just can’t believe it!” Balaclava Boy said. “I’ve been to seven different schools. Seven! Even a school overseas in Scotland. But I’ve never, ever seen a headmaster cry before. Nor even a headmistress.”

  “That’s why we call him Mr Mosi,” said Dumisani.

  “Why Mr Mosi?”

  “Well, New Bru,” Dumisani explained, “it’s short for Mosi-oa-Tunya. You know, the other name for Victoria Falls.”

  Tommy nodded his red-and-orange striped head. “I get it!” he laughed. I was happy to see he could still laugh. He was being really brave.

  Back in class Miss Venter told us to get out our stupid boring reading books. Even though it was sixth period and not reading time. Then she took Tommy off to our first-aid lady, Mrs Modise, aka the Germolene Queen.

  “Keep reading until we get back,” Miss Venter said at the door.

  But even Cherise couldn’t concentrate on her reading. She kept tapping her pencil on her desk like she was squashing ants. Then she went to stand in front.

  “Listen, class,” she said. She sounded like Miss Venter. “For Free Orals tomorrow, I’m not going to read out your notes. Is that okay? I know you worked hard on them. But I think we must leave Tommy in peace about his balaclava and stop bugging him. He’s had enough hassles. We don’t want him to feel worse. He can tell us when he’s ready to tell us. So is that okay?”

  “Listen, class,” she said.

  Up and down the rows, everyone agreed.