Bee: But not as prickly.
Jonno: And better at surfing.
Copper Pie: How come you came back with my mum?
(My turn at last.)
Keener: I ran straight into your mum when I left Big Jim’s. She was putting the bin out.
Copper Pie: No way! She never leaves the house in the day. Never. (He kicked the tree as he said that.) So unlucky!
Bee: Did she shout at you?
Copper Pie: Of course she did. That’s all she does.
Keener: No. She didn’t shout. She was nice. She let me make the snacks for the nursery kids.
Copper Pie: Are we talking about my mum here?
(I nodded.)
Jonno: Why didn’t she bring you back right away?
Fifty: Same. Then we wouldn’t have had to imagine you flat, complete with tyre marks.
Keener: She couldn’t leave until one of the other nursery people got back from lunch. I didn’t exactly mind. I wasn’t in a hurry to find out what was going to happen to me.
Fifty: What is going to happen?
(A long silence. Too long to be called a pause. They seemed to be happening a lot.)
Copper Pie:I’ll get shouted at by Mum, and she’ll ban me from the telly or something else I like. And the Head’ll make me sit outside her room again, probably till Leavers’ Week. (He looked glum.)
Keener: My mum won’t believe it. And when she realises I really did bunk off, she’ll . . . I don’t know what she’ll do. I’ve never been in the sort of trouble your mum gets to hear about. (I looked glum.)
Jonno: I think my mum and dad might be OK about it. I mean, it depends how you look at it. If you look at it through Big Jim’s eyes, we did the right thing.
Fifty: Do you think they’ll tell our mums? (He was talking to Bee. They were the only two that hadn’t bunked off.)
Bee: The Head said ‘the parents concerned’. That might mean ours too, I’m not sure. But we might have to tell them anyway. (Fifty’s face didn’t seem to agree.)
Fifty: Why?
Bee: Well, we’ve got to stop bunking off. So the problem that started all this is still there – Big Jim. If we can’t help him, we’ve got to find someone who can, before they call the hospital police, or whoever’s waiting to take him away.
Keener: He’s not our problem any more. Not now Copper Pie’s mum knows.
(Copper Pie made an I’ve-just-realised-something-important face. That’s a rare thing.)
Copper Pie: I reckon that’s why she didn’t shout at you, Keener. She feels guilty. (He smiled.) Maybe I won’t get banned after all. Maybe I’ll get thanked!
Bee: Mums are one thing we’ll just have to deal with. I’m not worried about that, I’m worried about school. The Head won’t leave it, she’ll be cooking up some way to make us suffer.
At exactly that moment the Head’s head appeared out of the door. The Head’s head scanned the playground and settled on us. The Head’s head focused, by narrowing its eyes, and then zoomed in.
‘In my office after school, please. The five of you.’
The Head’s head zoomed out, turned about, and disappeared.
‘Let’s not go,’ said Copper Pie.
‘Same. Let’s catch a bus and then a train and then a taxi and then a ferry . . .’ said Fifty.
I knew he was joking. That sentence is out of a picture book Fifty used to keep in his desk when we were in the infants. It was about a boy going to stay with his grandad for the very first time. Fifty liked the pictures. (I quite liked them too but I pretended to like the digger book the other boys were mad about.)
Bee was thinking, I think. She had her mouth shut anyway. Finally she said, ‘Let’s go and say that unless the Head helps us look after Jim, we’ll keep bunking off.’
‘You are a lunatic,’ I said. ‘Firstly, that’s blackmail. Secondly, the Head can’t look after a stranger just because he happens to live next door to someone in one of her Year 6 classes – she has to look after the school. Big Jim is not her job.’
‘It’s not anyone’s job. That’s the point. So unless someone makes it their job, Big Jim will probably die.’ Bee can be a drama queen.
We joined the line to troop back into school. Flo was at the back of her queue and as she went past she said, ‘Keener, Jack said you bunked off. I said you’d never bunk off because you’re a scaredy-cat.’
I looked at my sickly little sister with her yellow hair and pink lips (she was wearing Amy’s lip balm with a rosy tint again – strictly not allowed).
‘So I bunked off. Who cares?’
If I’d had a camera on my phone I’d have had the best picture ever. Her bottom lip fell so far away from her top one that I could see all the lumps where the bottom of her teeth were stuck into her jaw.
‘I’m telling Mum.’
What did it matter? She’d know soon enough.
The
Storm
We all stood in a line opposite the Head, who was sitting at her desk. She said, ‘I have a problem on my hands.’ Copper Pie looked down at her hands. What an idiot! ‘You are, as I’ve said before, not irresponsible children, in the main. Yet you insist on repeatedly flouting the rules. And this time, you have pushed me too far. To leave the school without permission not only puts you in danger, but shows the school to be failing in its duty of care to your parents to look after your safety whilst you are in its care. Do you understand?’
Of course we did. We’re not in Reception. I nodded.
‘Yes,’ said Bee.
‘But my problem is not how to deal with this affair, as much as how to let the rest of the school know that this behaviour will not be tolerated, for I understand word has got around that the “Tribers” have been leaving school in the day. This may be seen as a reason to look up to you, to want to be like you.’ The other kids want to be like me! What a great thought. Trying to stop myself grinning made the corners of my mouth hurt, so I gave in and grinned behind my hand. ‘I cannot have you seen as heroes by the younger and more impressionable children in this school. So, I need you to help me show the rest of the school that breaking the rules is never the answer, even if breaking the rules helps someone else.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Bee,’ but how are we going to do that?’
‘I was coming to that, Bee. Every spare minute you have tomorrow will be spent sitting outside my office. That means before school – if you are here before the bell, morning break, lunch break and afternoon break. This will allow plenty of time for the other children to see what happens to those who are not good citizens of the school, and it will also allow me to keep an eye on your whereabouts. And Jonno, in the circumstances, I don’t think we will need you on the Leavers’ Week Committee after all.’
Hardly an imaginative punishment. But at least we weren’t suspended and Leavers’ Week is rubbish anyway. Trust the Head to bring up the ‘citizenship’ thing. It’s her latest fad. I looked around at the rest of the Tribers to see if they thought the same.
Oh no! I could see Bee was getting ready to blurt something out. Her lips were pressed tightly together as though they were trying to block the words that her brain was trying to push out. They came out anyway.’ I don’t see that what we did means we aren’t good citizens. I think it means we are good citizens. We helped someone who needed help. That’s kind.’
Shut up, Bee! Why does she always have to say what she thinks is right. Why can’t she just pretend to agree out loud and disagree inside? That’s what I do.
Bee didn’t shut up. She carried on. ‘Citizenship means getting on with everyone, being kind, helping out, stuff like that.’
‘And it also means respect for yourself, your fellow pupils, your teachers and the rules of the school. You should not have broken the rule about leaving school grounds, and I will not have you answer me back, Beatrice.’ The Head was livid. Her face was bluey-red and the veins in her forehead were bulging out, like snakes crawling down out of her hair Medusa-style. I was quite frightened. I d
idn’t want the Head to be my enemy, Tribe’s enemy.
We left her office, me first.
Jonno said ‘Thank you’ as he left. Wish I’d thought of that.
‘One more thing.’ The Head’s voice stopped us all dead. ‘Be very clear, this is not a school that will allow its reputation to be damaged by a group of children who think they know best. This is not a school that will allow truancy. And if you think being a Tribe gives you the right to do as you please, then be warned, there will be no Tribe at this school.’
It was just like Neville Chamberlain’s speech all over again. The Head was threatening to declare herself at war with Tribe.
Reputations
at Stake
I walked out of school to find my mum and Flo waiting, which was odd because usually they go home in the car and I walk home with my friends. Actually, it was even odder than that, because it was Thursday, which is Mum’s late night at the surgery so it should have been Amy picking Flo up, not Mum at all. But in a way none of it was odd, because my mum had obviously found out that her hard-working, honest boy was in fact a truant, and that explained her change of plans. (I was so angry about the Head saying Tribe was damaging the reputation of the school that for a minute I’d forgotten about my own reputation.)
‘I’ve had a call from the Head. I think you’d better come in the car with me, don’t you?’ Mum said.
Fifty, Copper Pie, Bee and Jonno all melted away, leaving me on my own.
I nodded. ‘Yes, Mum.’
Flo started to ask questions but for once Mum shut her up. ‘Flo, this is something that your brother and I need to sort out on our own, thank you.’
Flo made an ugly face. I preferred it to her normal one. It suited her personality.
At home we had a snack (cheese scones and apple juice) that we ate in complete silence. I had trouble swallowing the scone so I washed small pieces ofit down with gulps of juice to stop it getting stuck. Eating when you’re nervous is a dangerous activity.
‘Flo, can you go and watch CBBC while I have a chat with your brother?’ I wanted to go with my sister. I wanted to be little again and for Clifford the Big Red Dog to be my favourite programme.
Flo walked ever so slowly towards the living room, looked back and smirked at me. Mum saw, and shut the door on her, leaving the two of us. I am so rarely in trouble (although it happens much more now I’m a Triber than it ever did before), that I didn’t know what to do with my face, or my hands, or whether to stand up or stay sitting where I was. Mum sat down next to me, so that sorted out one question.
‘I think you’d better tell me all about it.’ Mum put her hands on the table, pressed together like she was praying. I did the same with mine. It wasn’t that comfortable but I thought it made me look sorry. Mum looked sorry and she hadn’t even done anything.
I took a deep breath and started at the beginning and finished at the end. I didn’t leave anything out, not even the bit where I tried to faint. I reckoned the more Mum knew about how much I didn’t want to do it, the quicker she’d forgive me.
‘I’m so sorry, darling.’ Mum put her hand on top of mine. Weird. I didn’t think the forgiving bit would come before the telling-off bit. I waited to see what was coming next. ‘I feel dreadful that you didn’t feel you could come to me or Dad. Surely you know we would always try to help someone?’
No, I thought, but I said, ‘I thought you’d have to tell someone.’ That was a lie. I never thought seriously about telling Mum at all. What could she have done? Given up her job as a doctor to look after Copper Pie’s neighbour? I don’t think so.
‘It doesn’t matter now. What matters is that you’re safe.’ Mum’s eyes were watery. ‘But you must promise to come and talk to me if there is ever a problem again that you need help solving.’ A tear trickled down Mum’s face. ‘Promise?’
I nodded. She wiped her cheek.
‘Although it was wrong to leave school without permission, going to help Jim was very, very kind. I think your Tribe should feel proud.’
Mum being so nice was quite odd. I was half waiting for a telling-off but half getting the idea there wasn’t one coming.
‘The Head said she would leave the disciplining to the parents. All she intends to do is ask you to sit outside her office tomorrow.’
I nodded again. And because I hadn’t spoken for a while I added, ‘Can I go now?’
‘Of course, you can. I’ll call you when tea’s ready.’ I got up. ‘And don’t you worry about Jim. I’m going to make a few calls.’
Finally, I escaped up to my room.
Big Jim’s a Wow
at the Red House
Copper Pie sent me a text: BIG JIMS WORKING AT RED HOUSE.
That’s what his mum’s nursery is called, The Red House. Although it isn’t actually red, it’s brick-coloured.
I texted back: WOT?
So he rang me. My ringtone is Mission: Impossible. Amy says it’s lame. Hers is a recording of herself saying,’ Pick up. Pick up’. It’s freaky, her voice without her body.
‘Keener, it’s me. You’ll never guess.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ I said. ‘Big Jim’s working in the nursery.’
‘How did you guess?’
‘You texted me, idiot.’
‘Oh yeah.’ He didn’t say anything else. He’s not that good on the phone.
‘Are you going to explain, then?’
‘Mum said she felt guilty. Guilty that I didn’t think she’d help, and guilty that Big Jim thought she’d turn him in. So, I’m in the clear and Big Jim’s coming in here every day till he’s better. He’s gonna eat with the kids. Mum went and fetched him after she left the Head’s and by the time I got in he was sitting in the armchair and all the little brats were sitting round his feet. They loved him.’
I could just see it. Big Jim with his wild white hair and his shirts with big checks that Bee says are like tea towels, laughing his big laugh. Even if he wasn’t ace at making up fantastic stories just the look of him would make you smile, because he smiles all the time, and teases, and laughs, and he’s huge. (I should have said that earlier – it explains his nickname.) He’s taller than a normal door, and probably almost as wide.
‘So problem’s solved.’ I was pretty pleased. I’d bunked off and managed to stay out of trouble even though I was caught. Amazing.
‘Yep. And Mum’s let me choose tea. We’re having pasty and chips, and then me and Dad are going over the park with a football. See ya.’ He ended the call before I could reply.
I looked around my room, deciding what to do before tea. Pack, I thought. I knew it was three days till camp but it wouldn’t hurt to start sorting out what I wanted to take. I got out my rucksack, the one that I take on holidays, which is bigger than my school one. And that was when my phone rang again, and it was Bee, and I didn’t like what she had to say.
‘Keener, the Head’s just rung my mum.’ So what, I thought. The Head had spoken to all our mums. But I said, ‘Has she?’ to sound interested.
‘She told Mum that she’d decided it would be better for us to use next week’s camp to “reconnect with the other members of our year group”.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means, she’s going to split us up. We’ll all have to be in separate groups. It’ll be awful. I could be with Callum . . . ‘ She paused.
Even worse, I could be with Callum, I thought.
‘Why did she say that?’ I said. ‘That’s not what she told us in her office.’
‘She must have changed her mind.’
A thought came to me – if Bee hadn’t disagreed with the Head about ‘citizenship’ the Head wouldn’t have devised an extra punishment, but I kept it hidden because Bee wouldn’t have liked it one bit. Her big mouth could do with staying shut sometimes. I kept that thought hidden too.
‘I’m going to ring the rest. We need a plan. I’m not spending a week in a group with Alice, or Callum or Jamie. No way. Bye.’
Bee r
ang off before I could reply. I sat holding the phone for a bit wondering what sort of plan could change the Head’s mind. The answer was as clear as if it was written across the blue sky in white smoke from a Boeing 747.
N O N E
I don’t know how long I stayed like that. Completely still. But eventually Mum called us for tea and on the third shout I did what she said and went downstairs. I wasn’t looking forward to the school trip anyway. Now it was fifty times worse, knowing I wouldn’t be with mates.
Mum and Amy and Flo chatted about rubbish: Flo’s latest pom-pom animal (a mouse), Amy’s spotty boyfriend and Mum’s asthma clinic (my sisters like hearing all about Mum’s work – no idea why).
‘What’s up?’ Mum was looking at me. It wasn’t surprising really. While she’d been chatting and eating, I’d managed to sit at the table and not eat even one pea, or one grain of rice, or one flake of salmon (in honey and soy sauce which is quite nice).
‘Camp,’ I said.
‘It’s fun,’ said Amy. ‘You have a fire and the teachers mess about, and there’s loads of cool stuff to do.’
‘It’s only fun if you’re with your friends,’ I said.
‘What do you mean?’ said Mum. ‘All your friends will be there.’
‘But we won’t be together,’ I said. ‘The Head said she won’t let us be a team at camp next week.’
‘Because you skived off school?’ Mum asked.
I nodded. Mum obviously didn’t know anything about it. She said ‘Did she now?’ in an odd voice, and made a face that I couldn’t quite work out. Amy started telling us all about her week at camp. I stopped listening.
There were still a few days to go. I decided to push all the worry out of my brain for a while. (I did it the usual way – making up stupid words that don’t exist, like compodasty and mewminny.) It helped – I ate my tea and even managed to forget about camp for a bit. I reckoned when the Tribers were all together, one of us would come up with an idea. One of us always does.
KEENER’S DICTIONARY
compodasty (adj.) – completely deadly and nasty
Monkey Bars and Rubber Ducks Page 5
