Balaclava Boy (4 page)

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?”

“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 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?”

Up and down the rows, everyone agreed.

“Cool.”

“No problem.”

“Fine by me.”

“Yeah, poor guy! Give him a break!”

And that was the moment Dumisani and I suddenly looked at each other. We just knew we were both thinking the same thing. We both had exactly the same idea. It happens with us sometimes. I suppose because we've been friends since we were little.

“Hey, Cherise,” I said. “This is just an idea, right? But what about …? Nah!” I stopped. Maybe our idea would sound silly.

“What about what, Doogal?” Cherise was still in front, still sounding like a teacher.

“Well, why don't we ask everyone …? Nah. They'd never do it.”

Cherise was getting impatient. “Never do what, Doogal?”

Dumisani took over now. “Nah, you'll probably just think it's stupid.”

Cherise put her hands on her hips. “Oh, grow up, Big Ds. Just tell me.”

So we did. Well, Dumisani did. He stood up in the front too and explained.

And we were in for a surprise! Cherise thought it was a brilliant idea! Absolutely brilliant! So did everyone else! They clapped and cheered. Obakeng gave one of his whistles – long and ear-splitting. Thandi and Hannah and Innocent yelled, “Party-time! Party-time!” at the tops of their voices.

So of course Dumisani and I had to stand up on our desk and bow to all our fans.

The noise went on and on until Miss Venter and Tommy got back from the Germolene Queen. With Tommy smelling of Savlon.

After school, Dumz and I escorted Tommy all the way home to Daffodil Street. We strode with our backs straight and our arms swinging wide. We did our best to look mean and scary. We scanned the whole area for danger. Most of all, we kept silent. Like proper secret service bodyguards.

Well, until we got to Tommy's gate. Then Dumisani said, “You wait! There's a surprise for you tomorrow!”

“What surprise?” asked Balaclava Boy. But then his mom appeared and saw the bloodstain and got very upset.

Dumz and I walked on towards Frangipani Road. That's where we both live. Where we've always lived. Nearly opposite each other.

We passed a small red house on a corner. And we stopped. It used to be the house of our Grade Two teacher, Mrs Godfrey.

Mrs Godfrey had got very sick. And around the playground, a terrible word was whispered: ‘Cancer'. After that we only saw Mrs Godfrey a few times, sitting on her verandah or in her husband's car. She always wore a head-scarf.

And another word was being whispered around the playground: ‘Chemotherapy'. Especially by the Grade Sevens. Chemotherapy was special hospital treatment for cancer. It made all your hair fall out.

Dumisani and I stood outside the small red house with its empty verandah.

“You don't think …?” I said. “What if maybe Tommy …?” It was such an awful thought. Too awful to say out loud.

But after a while Dumisani shook his head. “Nah, Doogz. Because look how he runs around the soccer field. Like a mad thing! Look at the way he sends that ball flying. He couldn't do that if he was sick, could he?”

So we headed on to Frangipani Road. Walking quickly towards the sound of steam trains shunting as they carried coal from the Mine to the Power Station.

There was lots to do. We had to sort out stuff for tomorrow's Brilliant Idea. And I had to make up something to say for Free Orals. In case Miss Venter chose me.

Dumisani never prepares anything, though. He just stands up in front and the words come tumbling out of his mouth. He's so good, he can get the class yelling stuff back at him. Miss Venter calls that ‘Audience Participation'. Dumisani's Free Orals always have lots of Audience Participation. And they're always great fun.