Dog Gone (7 page)

‘We can come back another day if you're busy,' said Molly. ‘We wouldn't mind at all, would we, Gran?'

Gran opened her mouth to speak, but the Principal was too quick.

‘No no no – this won't take long at all. We'll have you sitting in your new classroom before you can blink,' he said, then practically pushed Molly through the door. Molly gave him a scowl. I was sure she was about to mouth off at him but, miraculously, she held her tongue.

After we'd all stepped into his office, he banged the door shut and nodded his head towards an old brown leather chair beside his desk. ‘Please sit down, Mrs Douglas.' I wondered if his desk had been made in 1904 as well. He sat in the only other chair in the room, and left Molly and me to stand.

Molly looked around the room. I thought she was about to say something, but she folded her arms, let out a loud sigh and stared out the window.

The Principal directed his whole attention to Gran. It was as if Molly and I weren't in the room. With his back to me, he droned on and on about what a wonderful school she'd chosen for her grandchildren.
What a waste of time,
I thought,
we're only going to be here for a few weeks.

After a while, his voice became a low hum in the background, and I found myself either staring out the window, like Molly, or staring at his bald head, of which I had a particularly good view. I'd never seen such a shiny head before. I wondered if he polished it – I could actually see myself in it.

I was in the middle of pulling faces at my reflection, when he suddenly turned around. His timing was unfortunate because, at precisely that moment, my tongue was out, my eyes were crossed and my two thumbs were up my nose.

There are times when I wish my sister lived on another planet. Actually, sometimes I wonder whether she
comes
from another planet. But there are times when I could hug her. Today was one of them. Her timing was perfect. I don't know if she planned it, on my behalf or not, but before the Principal could open his mouth, she'd opened hers and was suddenly doubling over, moaning. ‘I've got to sit down. I'm going to faint. If I don't sit down, I'm going puke, too. I feel terrrrrrible.'

Gran was up out of her chair in a flash, and Molly flopped onto it with such force, I thought its ancient legs would collapse underneath her. Fortunately, they held. Molly, who instantly looked much better, took ages to arrange herself on the chair. She crossed and uncrossed her legs and adjusted her skirt. She rearranged her hair with her fingers.

‘I'd feel much better if I could have a glass of water,' Molly said, and looked directly at the Principal.

‘Of course,' said the Principal.

I could see he didn't know what to make of her.

As soon as he'd left the room, Gran turned to us to speak. She was fuming. Although she didn't get a chance to say anything because the door flew open again.

The Principal was back. ‘A student will bring the water, presently.' He sat down behind his desk and looked straight at me. ‘Now, Michael, I hope you're good at maths.'

I let out a huge sigh.

‘You'll be in Miss Beech's class,' he continued. ‘She's very particular about her students knowing their thirteen, fourteen and fifteen times-tables. And anyone who's
half
-hearted about fractions spends their
whole
lunchtime doing revision sheets.' He giggled and looked pleased with his little fraction joke. ‘I
hate
maths and my name's Ish, not Michael,' I said.

‘Oh, it says Michael on –'

‘His real name
is
Michael,' interrupted Gran, who hadn't managed to get a word in the whole time we'd been in the Principal's office, ‘but we've called him Ish since the day he was born.'

The way Gran was looking at me, I knew I was going to be in big trouble when we got home. I don't know what made me say I hated maths, because I actually like it. The Principal was giving me the creeps.

‘We don't know how long the children's mother will be overseas,' Gran continued, standing in the middle of the room and shuffling her feet as she talked. She kept pulling at something near the top of her skirt. I didn't really hear what else she said; I was too busy watching a white frill gradually appear below the hem of Gran's dress. As she talked and shuffled, the white frill moved lower, a bit like the curtain going down at the end of a concert. As more and more white frills came into view, I realised, in horror, they were bloomer shaped.

Then, without warning, Gran's enormous frilly underpants fell to the floor, and sat there, around her ankles.

The Principal's mouth opened so wide, you could see the little dangly thing at the back of his throat. His eyes goggled so much I thought they might fall out. Fortunately, Molly didn't say anything, choosing instead to turn her back and stare out the window again.

‘I must fix the elastic on those,' said Gran, and casually stepped out of her underpants and put them in her handbag. She didn't seem bothered at all.

I was dying of embarrassment. The Principal's whole head looked like a red balloon and he was frantically trying to loosen his tie.

Fortunately, there was a knock at the door and a girl came in with the glass of water.

‘About time,' said Molly, turning around. ‘Don't they have taps here – did you have to go and find a well or something?'

The girl looked from Molly to the Principal and back to Molly again.

‘Der. Can I actually
have
the drink? Or are you going wait till it evaporates?' Molly grabbed the glass and spilled some down her front as she sculled it.

‘Yes, yes, well, I think we'll show Michael and Molly to their rooms now,' said the Principal, as he stood up and waved the girl out. ‘You can be first, Michael.'

As we made our way to my new classroom, the butterflies in my stomach began to feel like moths. And my grandmother was walking around the school with no underpants on.

At least it wasn't windy.

The corridors were long and crammed with school bags. As we came to the junior section, a large boy sat in the middle of the corridor. He was surrounded by coloured blocks.

‘How are you today, young man? Working hard on your counting, I can see,' said the Principal, then turned to Gran. ‘You'll have to walk around Nicholas, Mrs Douglas.' He guided Gran to the side of the blocks so she wouldn't trip over them.

‘She's been walking around knicker-less for the last ten minutes,' said Molly. ‘Gran's knickers fell off in your office. Remember?'

The Principal shot her an angry look, as did Gran.

Molly shrugged and rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever.'

The Principal flung
open the door, pushed me inside, tried to tell Miss Beech my name and got completely tongue-tied. He started saying ‘Michael', then changed it to ‘Ish' and confused it with ‘Molly'.

In the end he said, ‘Everyone, the new student's name is Milly.'

Of course the whole class burst out laughing.

‘Shhhh – that's enough everyone!' Miss Beech yelled over the commotion. She pointed to a spare table, and nudged me over to it. My face was so hot it could've glowed in the dark. I kept my head down, not daring to look at anyone. I dropped my pencil case and, as I stood up, I came eyeball to eyeball with the boy from the river, Brody Callahan.

‘Nice name,' he said sarcastically. ‘Where's your dress?'

Miss Beech heard his taunt and told him to stay in at lunchtime so he could write me an apology.

‘You'll pay,' he said, under his breath to me as I sat at my table, which of course was right next to his.

Then if that wasn't enough, when everyone had settled down and started work, Gran knocked at the door. She came in all flustered and explained to Miss Beech that she'd forgotten to give me my lunch. She came over to my table and as she pulled my lunch out of her handbag, somehow her underpants fell onto my books. It looked like she was giving them to me. Like it was normal to give big frilly undies to your grandson.

Everybody fell off their seats laughing again.

I thrust them back at her, wishing I could become invisible.

Gran laughed, popped the undies in her bag and walked out. Then she blew a kiss through the window in the door!

My stress level sky-rocketed into the
extreme
zone. I felt like I was stuck in jail. I could hardly breathe. So when Miss Beech told everybody to write a story about the most precious thing they'd ever owned, I nearly choked.

All I could think about was Lucky. And Grandpa. And Mum and Dad. I was furious with them for leaving me stranded. If Mum hadn't gone on that stupid holiday and if Dad hadn't gone to Sydney, I'd be with my friends at my own school. And I'd still have Lucky.

And I wouldn't have to sit next to Brody Callahan.

‘I haven't seen you write anything yet, Ish,' said Miss Beech, from her desk at the front of the classroom. ‘You'd better get a wriggle on or you'll be keeping Brody company at lunchtime.'

Miss Beech looked like a witch. She had long, white stringy hair and beady black eyes that were so mean they could burn a hole right through you. She had a square, thin face and a pointy nose with a drip hanging off the end. Her bony fingers had long curled fingernails that were painted dark purple. Her voice grated on my ears. All she needed was a cauldron, a coned hat and a black cat. I found my pen scribbling down a limerick about her.

Old Drippy Nose

I've been lumped with a teacher called Beech

Whose voice makes a horrible screech

She looks like a witch

And casts spells with a twitch

She's so ugly, she gives me the creeps!

I'd be done for if she came around to have a look.

Brody Callahan had written about two sentences. I couldn't see what they said, but his writing was big and messy. Every now and again I could feel his eyes on me. I covered my own work with my hand. I could feel other kids' eyes on me too. How would I ever make a friend now?

Suddenly, Miss Beech's voice rattled into the quietness of the room again, making me jump. Brody was about to say something to me, but changed his mind when Miss Beech's eyes lasered him.

‘Pens down, everybody. Who'd like to read their story out first? Brody?'

Read their story out!
My heart began to thump.

‘I haven't finished yet, Miss Beech,' said Brody, then looking at me, ‘I couldn't concentrate with the new boy sitting next to me. He kept whispering to me all the time, threatening me.'

The girl sitting at Brody's table looked at me and then Brody, but didn't say anything.

‘Ish – is that true?' fired Miss Beech, her eyes glaring at me again between layers of black mascara.

‘No, Miss Beech,' I said.

‘He's lying Miss –'

‘I haven't got time for arguments in class. Read out what you've got Brody, and Ish can go next. If he's spent all his time whispering he won't have much to read out either, will he?'

‘The-most-precious-thing-I-owned-was-my-puppy,' read Brody, each word separated from the rest with a little pause and all in the same low tone.

‘Is that all?' snapped Miss Beech.

‘Yes, Miss,' said Brody.

‘In all this time you've only managed to write one sentence?' She shook her head and sighed. ‘Who gave you the puppy?'

‘My Mum, Miss.'

‘Oh, I see.' Miss Beech suddenly looked uncomfortable. ‘Let's hear from our new boy now. Stand up so we can all see you, Ish.' The fire had gone from her voice but still burned in her eyes.

I took a deep breath. I was going to have to make it up as I went.

‘My favourite thing is my fishing rod,' I began, my voice wobbling all over the place. ‘When my Grandpa died, I got to keep it.' I kept my eyes on the page, as if I were reading. I went on about how I used to go fishing with him. When I'd finished, Miss Beech was actually smiling, along with some of the others in the class.

As I sat down, Brody grinned at me and I realised my big mistake.