Ade's Amazing Ade-ventures

by Ade Adepitan

  “Yes,” Mr Towers said. “We’ll have it as good as new for you in about six weeks.”

  “Six weeks!” Ade’s dad exclaimed. “But what about school?”

  “It’s gonna be all right Dad,” Ade said. “It doesn’t matter if I start school a few weeks late. You and Mum can teach me at home.”

  Why didn’t I think of that before? Ade thought. It’s the perfect solution. He didn’t want to go to school at all. What if the other kids were like Deano and Sam or, even worse, the horrible men in Queen’s Market? Ade imagined himself arriving in the school playground with hundreds of kids staring and laughing at the way he walked. He could practically hear all the children whispering and giggling and then, as more and more joined in, they all started shouting and pointing, “Go back to your own country, Peg Leg! Nobody wants you here; go home!”

  He began to shake.

  “Ade? Ade? Are you okay?”

  Ade blinked and realised Mr Towers, his mum and his dad, were all staring at him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Oh yeah, yeah, I’m okay.”

  Mr Towers frowned and turned to Ade’s parents. “Look, I can see how upset your son is about this,” he said to them. “I can’t promise anything, Mr and Mrs Adepitan, but I’ll have a word with a few people and see if we can speed things up a little. With any luck, we may be able to get the repair time down to three weeks.”

  Ade groaned to himself. Somehow, he’d made things worse and he’d be starting school sooner rather than later now.

  Mum was beaming and Dad looked like he wanted to hug Mr Towers.

  Luckily, Mr Towers distracted him. “Oh, and one more thing. To save you having to carry Ade around while we fix his caliper, I’ve arranged for him to have a wheelchair. You can pick it up on your way out.”

  Ade wrinkled his nose. He hated wheelchairs and hated the whole idea of using one. Wheelchairs are for really disabled people who can’t even play football, he thought. Now, I’m going to be one of them.

  CHAPTER 10

  IN A BIT OF A FIX

  Brian paced up and down Ade’s bedroom, rubbing his chin and thinking. It must have been something he’d seen on television and he was probably doing it because he thought it made him seem even more intelligent. Ade wasn’t so sure. Why would walking back and forth give you cleverer thoughts than if you were just sitting down and thinking?

  Brian wasn’t the only one thinking, though. Shed was sitting on the end of Ade’s bed, bouncing a rubber ball off the floor and onto the wall as he pondered their problem, and Dexter was trying to balance on his head with his legs up against the bedroom door. He claimed it really did help him think better and was something he always did when the gang had a big problem to solve.

  And boy did they have a big problem to solve! A big, buggy shaped problem.

  “Why a buggy?” Dexter asked, still upside down. “Why won’t your parents let you use the wheelchair?”

  Ade sighed. He wanted to explain but he wasn’t sure Dex would get it. Life was really hard for disabled people in Nigeria. There were very few opportunities for them and, for the most part, they were only ever seen begging in the streets. Ade knew his parents had come to the UK because they wanted him to be independent and have the best life possible. They haven’t come here to see me in a wheelchair and they don’t want me to rely on one. To them that looks like I’m properly disabled. And they’re right. Walking with my caliper is best.

  “They just don’t like it,” Ade said instead. “But they need to get me around somehow.”

  Dexter was going red in the face so flopped down on the floor. “Well, mate, being pushed around in a buggy is doing nothing for your reputation. A wheelchair would be much better.”

  Brian glared at him and Dexter shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

  Ade flopped back on his bed. “I need my caliper back, and fast.”

  “Definitely,” Brian said. “School’s starting soon.”

  Ade shook his head. “I don’t care about that. I don’t want to go to school; it’s going to be horrible.”

  “No it won’t,” Shed promised. “We’re the Parsons Road Gang and we always stick together.” He threw the ball against the wall again, but this time it ricocheted past Shed’s outstretched hand and hit Brian on the side of his head.

  All the boys started laughing, apart from Brian who was anxiously examining his specs. “You could have broken my glasses. You know I can’t see a thing without them.”

  “Chill out, Brian, it was an accident,” Ade said. “Nothing’s broken and nothing needs to be fixed.”

  “Hang on. That’s it,” Brian shouted. “I’ve got it!”

  “Yes, we know you’ve got it. The worse case of flatulence known to man,” Ade replied.

  The boys cracked up laughing again. One of Brian’s favourite meals was eggs and beans with loads of ketchup. He claimed the protein in the eggs helped him to think clearly. The problem was, they also gave him horrible wind.

  “No, you sausages!” Brian spoke fast, something he did when he was about to come up with a clever idea. “Shed, your cousin Abdul is a mechanic, right?”

  Shed looked confused, but nodded. “Sort of,” he said. “He actually welds cars back together after they’ve been in accidents. He fixed my bike really well last summer. Made it better, actually.”

  Dexter jumped to his feet. “Abdul could fix Ade’s caliper! Brian, you’re a genius!”

  “Correct,” said Brian. “I am a genius. And yes, correct again, Abdul is the answer to our problem.”

  Dexter and Brian jumped in the air and chest-bumped each other in celebration. Then they did the Parsons Road Gang special handshake, which involved linking thumbs and wiggling all the other fingers.

  “Hang on,” Ade said. “Mr Towers has my caliper. There’s no way he’s going to give it to us to fix.”

  Everyone’s face fell and Brian began to pace again. He was pacing for a while, ages in fact, and then he stopped. “Well, they say the pen is mightier than the sword.”

  “Who says that?” Dexter looked confused.

  Brian frowned. “The ‘who’ doesn’t matter.”

  “What he’s saying is that we should write Mr Towers a letter, right?” Ade said.

  Brian nodded. “We’ll write him a letter and say that Abdul can fix the caliper.” Brian spread his arms wide. “He’ll thank us. We’re essentially taking work off his hands.”

  Shed grinned. “Great, and then we can all start school together.”

  Ade pursed his lips. He really wanted his caliper back but the idea of starting school still filled him with fear.

  “Come on,” Brian said. “Let’s write this letter.” He ripped the top sheet from a nearby pad of paper and handed it to Ade. “You should write it. It will mean more coming from you.”

  Ade nodded and began to write:

  Der Mr Towers. I wood reely like it if you cud send bak my clipper so Abdul can ficks it. Tank you veery mush. Ade

  Brian read it over his shoulder. “Well, it’s definitely a unique letter. Now it just needs to be post–”

  “Boys, time for you to go,” Ade’s mum called up. “Your parents will be wondering where you are.”

  “Don’t worry,” Ade said. “Leave it to me. I know where the stamps and envelopes are kept and my mum’s address book.”

  The boys did their secret handshake.

  “Let me know if you need me,” Shed said. “We can take it to the postbox together.”

  “Will do.”

  After dinner, Ade found the stamps. He licked the back of one and stuck it on the envelope. Ade chuckled to himself as he did so. It’s actually pretty gross, he thought. It’s like licking the back of the Queen’s head or something. He didn’t think she’d like that very much if anyone did it for real. Now there’s only one thing left to do, Ade thought. Post the letter. Shed said he’d help.

  “Mum,” shouted Ade. “Can I go round to Shed’s? I need to show him something.”

  “Yes,�
�� Mum said. “But only a quick visit. It’s bedtime soon. Do you want me to take you in the buggy?”

  “NO!” Ade shouted. “It’s not far. I can get there.”

  A few minutes later, Ade turned up on Shed’s doorstep dripping with sweat.

  “What happened to you?” Shed asked.

  “I hopped all the way round,” Ade replied.

  “You should have just called me, you doughnut.” Shed shook his head.

  “Come on, let’s go post this letter.” Ade held the envelope aloft, brandishing it like it was the FA Cup.

  The nearest postbox was five streets away and by the time they got there, Shed was the one who was sweating. He’d given Ade a piggyback all the way.

  “This is going to work,” said Ade, holding the letter up. “I believe in the power of the Parsons Road Gang.”

  “Yeah,” gasped Shed. “The power of the Parsons Road Gang can make anything happen.”

  “Here goes.” Ade slid the precious letter into the opening of the postbox and held it there for a couple of seconds before letting it go.

  Ten minutes later they were back outside Ade’s house.

  “Thanks, Shed,” said Ade as his friend knelt down to let him off his back.

  Shed slumped to the ground next to him, exhausted, and just about managed to mumble, “No problem.”

  “Hey, what’s up with you two?”

  Ade and Shed looked up. It was Brian.

  “Shed just took me to post the letter.”

  “Right,” said Brian, looking at Shed who was breathing heavily and gradually slumped even further down. “But why did he have to take you? Why didn’t you just ask him to post the letter for you?”

  Ade and Shed looked at each other. They both burst out laughing, realising at the exact same moment how silly they’d been.

  When they’d calmed down, Ade looked at his friends and said, “I believe in the power of the Parsons Road Gang.”

  “Yeah,” said Shed. “It’s so strong, I’ll bet we’ll get your caliper back and fixed by tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER 11

  NO TIME TO LOSE

  Ade’s caliper did not arrive for Abdul to fix the next day. Or the one after. Or the one after that. By the middle of the following week, Ade was feeling truly miserable.

  He’d been taken out in the buggy three more times. Some people just stared, but others would come up and pat him on the head and say how cute he looked. One woman had even taken a rattle out of her bag and given it to him. Even worse was when a group of kids had started laughing at him and making baby noises.

  Ade had told his parents how much he hated the buggy. “Can’t I just stay at home until my caliper is fixed?”

  His dad was having none of it. “Come on. You’re not hiding in this house.”

  School was due to start in 5 days’ time and the other boys were all getting ready. They’d done their best to keep Ade’s spirits up, but nothing much was working. Ade didn’t want to go to school at all, but if he had to go, he realised that what he really, really didn’t want was to start late and turn up when everyone else had settled in. He was going to stick out like a sore thumb anyway, but arriving on his own would make it a hundred times worse.

  By the time Friday came around he wished he could just fall asleep and wake up back in Nigeria with the whole thing having been a bad dream. Lying on his bed, he imagined playing with his cousins at Gran-gran’s house, running around, looking out for colobus monkeys leaping acrobatically through the trees.

  “Doyin! Doyin! Come quickly! Doyin!”

  It was his mum. Ade pushed himself off the bed and shuffled downstairs. His mum was running around, putting her coat on and looking for the house keys.

  “Mum, what is it?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”

  “The hospital called. They said your caliper is ready. If we can get there by five, they can fit it today.”

  “It’s fixed?” Ade said. “But Abdul didn’t-”

  “Abdul?” repeated his mum. She shook her head. “Doyin, it’s almost four, we’ve got to hurry if they’re going to fit it today. Get ready.”

  Five minutes later, Ade was strapped in the buggy and being pushed to the number 5 bus stop on Barking Road as fast as his mum could go.

  Ade heard someone snort with laughter as they arrived.

  He closed his eyes. Why did mum put me in this buggy?

  “Interesting choice of socks,” a girl’s voice said.

  “Huh?” Ade spotted a tall girl with springy hair and golden-brown skin leaning against the bus stop. Her hands were in her tracksuit pockets.

  She barely glanced at Ade as she continued, “If you’re gonna wear superhero socks, I would go for Iceman; Wolverine is way too obvious.”

  Still confused, Ade looked down at his bright yellow-and-black socks. His knees were up by his chin as he sat hunched uncomfortably in the baby buggy. Wolverine scowled angrily at Ade from his socks as if he agreed with the strange girl.

  “Yup, definitely the wrong choice,” the girl said.

  Definitely the wrong choice. Ade’s heart skipped a beat as he suddenly realised something.

  “Wait!” he shouted.

  “What, Doyin? What is it?” Mum cried.

  “I should be in the wheelchair. Mr Towers gave it to us. What will he think when he sees me in a buggy?”

  “Oh, Lord, Doyin, you’re right.”

  Ade’s head flew back as Mum tilted the buggy onto its rear wheels and spun it round. As they shot off Ade heard the girl at the bus stop say, “See you later, Wolverine.”

  She was grinning, her large eyes twinkling with humour.

  Ade looked away, not sure how to respond, but it was too late anyway as his mum sprinted back down Parsons Road. They swapped the buggy for the wheelchair and, now even later than they had been before, charged back to the bus stop.

  As they waited, Mum went really quiet. She’s nervous, Ade thought, and it’s not just about us being late. She’s worried about getting the wheelchair on the bus.

  He remembered how back in Nigeria the buses were usually old and battered, and crammed full of more people than a tin of sardines who had invited all their friends over to stay. If anyone in a wheelchair had ever tried to get on, the chair would have been strapped to the roof and the person would have been shoved in with everyone else.

  On top of that, the drivers drove like maniacs, as if they were Formula One racing drivers in a real hurry.

  “Don’t worry, Mum,” said Ade. “It’ll be okay.”

  Mum nodded and stroked his cheek.

  The bus finally arrived and they both breathed a huge sigh of relief. It was fairly empty and there was plenty of room for the wheelchair. A couple of the other passengers even moved seats to make things easier for Ade and his mum. In fact, the only thing she would have liked was for the driver to actually drive like the bus was in a Formula One race.

  Ade and his mum spent the whole journey willing cars to get out of the way and telepathically trying to tell the driver to speed up. Whether it worked or not was difficult to know, but they reached their stop at ten to five, got off the bus and raced to Great Ormond Street Hospital.

  They burst into the main entrance and headed straight to the lifts.

  “Oh no,” said Ade’s mum. “They’re out of order. How am I going to get you to Mr Towers’ office on the third floor?”

  It looked as if Ade and his mum had come all that way in vain and Ade wasn’t going to be able to start school on Monday, after all.

  “Can we help you?”

  Ade and his mum turned to where the voice had come from and saw two nurses.

  “Oh, erm, yes,” said Ade’s mum. “We need to get to the third floor and the lift is broken.”

  The nurses looked at each other.

  “Come on, young man, up you get.”

  Ade was just about to say that he couldn’t do that, when he felt himself being lifted up and onto the nurse’s shoulders, while the other one folded up
the wheelchair and carried it up the stairs.

  Ade could feel his nostrils starting to flare; they always did that when he was angry or frustrated. I don’t want their help. I didn’t ask for their help. I need to get fitter and stronger, so I can do things by myself.

  “Thank you,” Mum said.

  The nurse shrugged. “We’re just sorry the lifts are broken.”

  At two minutes to five they were outside Mr Towers' office.

  “Ah, you made it,” said Mr Towers as Ade and his mum went inside. “Good to see you again. Now then, take a look at this.” Mr Towers opened a box and pulled out Ade’s caliper.

  “Good as new, eh?” he said.

  Ade couldn’t believe his eyes. It really did look as good as new. Once Mr Towers had fitted the caliper, it turned out it was even better than new. Mr Towers had created a hinge with a lever that allowed Ade to bend his leg at the knee when he was wearing it, something he hadn’t been able to do before.

  “Thank you so much, Mr Towers,” said Mum. “But tell me, how were you able to fix it so quickly?”

  “Well,” said Mr Towers, looking at Ade. “I received a letter. And, let’s just say, reading it made me think that perhaps it would be a good idea for Ade to start school as soon as possible and, when he does, to work very, very hard at his spelling.”

  CHAPTER 12

  PRETTY IN PINK

  “Wake up, Doyin. Wake up!”

  Ade opened his eyes.

  “It’s seven thirty,” Mum said. “Time to get up for school.”

  Ade stared at his mum all bleary-eyed.

  “Are you okay?” Mum looked concerned. “You were talking in your sleep. You kept on saying, ‘No, please no.’”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I just had a bad dream,” Ade said. “But I can’t quite remember it.”

  His mum gave him a big hug. “Don’t worry, everybody gets nervous on their first day of school.” She put her hand on her son’s head. “You wait and see, by the end of the afternoon you’ll be having such a good time you probably won’t want to come home.”