So Sick! (15 page)

Mr Epeler tries to look sympathetic. ‘Come come,’ he says. ‘It’s not that bad.’ He picks up the roll. ‘Shall we begin?’

‘What about Amorphophallus titanum?’ interrupts Angus. ‘I thought we were all starting with that.’ He holds up a hand, ‘Correction. I thought the Aquamarines and Yellows, oh, and Jake Kimmorley from Red, were starting with that.’

I can feel the whole class look at me. Red doesn’t only describe my spelling group. I bite on my tongue and say nothing. Grandad would be proud.

Mr Epeler walks over to Angus and lifts his arms to fold them. Serve Angus right! ‘Angus Allen,’ he says. ‘I am the teacher and I have decided to leave the big one for the end. Right?’

Angus doesn’t even look flustered. ‘Yes,’ he says, in a voice that’s loud and cocky.

Mr Epeler points to his roll. ‘Angus. You’re first. Spell “estuary”. The estuary was filled with mud at low tide.’

Angus leaps to his feet. ‘Estuary. ‘e’, ‘s’, ‘t’’ goes Angus. ‘Blah, blah, blah.’ ‘Correct,’ says Mr Epeler.

The look on Angus’s face says, Don’t you just lurve eating horseradish? Angus writes his word on the board and returns to his seat.

And so it goes. Levon, Kobi, Francesca.

‘Jake!’

I take a calming breath.

‘Spell “witch”. The witch flew on a broomstick.’

I try to concentrate. What is it that Mum says? Witches and cemeteries. That’s it! There’s a cross. And a cross means … ‘‘w’ ‘i’ ‘t’ ‘c’ ‘h’.’

‘Correct.’

Adam gives me a high five as I go past. We’re close to the end of the roll. Only two kids are out.

‘Ivy Tan,’ calls Mr Epeler. ‘Spell “because”. I was not at school because I was sick.’

Lucky Ivy, I think.

But Ivy’s not looking lucky. Ivy’s gone this ash colour. C’mon, I try to will her along. Betty eats cakes … I say to myself.

‘ ‘b’,’ starts Ivy. By the look on her face she doesn’t know about Betty and her cakes. ‘‘b’ ‘e’ ‘c’,’ she starts again.

Angus snorts. A few others giggle.

I want to punch their lights out. Can’t they see she’s trying?

Mr Epeler can. He smiles encouragingly. ‘Yes Ivy,’ he says. ‘You’re on the right track.’

I can see a tear glisten in the corner of Ivy’s eye. I try to ESP her — Betty eats cakes and uncle sells eggs. Then, I realise that Ivy’s uncle would never sell eggs, he’d probably sell rice! ‘ ‘b’ ‘e’ ‘c’ ‘o’,’ says Ivy.

‘Wrong!’ Angus is on his feet before Mr Epeler has a chance to say anything.

Ivy’s body seems to wilt. She slumps to her seat, her face burning. She won’t cry, though. Well, not in public.

‘You’re on netball duty!’ Angus snorts. He can’t help himself. ‘And you need to write it out ten times. Because, because, because …’ goes Angus.

Mr Epeler says in a firm voice. ‘Enough!’ I can see he’s fighting the urge to macerate (like that one? Courtesy of Grandad) Angus. ‘Any more from you Angus, and you’ll be out.’

Best thing Mr Epeler’s said all year. I turn, pretending to flick my fringe out of my face, making sure my tall finger is extended. Angus pokes out his tongue. He mouths the word, loser, at me.

I ignore him. Bring on the next word. Bring on the Amorphy whatsy. I am ready.

Slowly we get through all the words. Even the optional ones. Lots of us have spelt all our words right. It will be hard to find just one winner.

‘The time has come for the big one,’ announces Mr Epeler. ‘Red group have elected to sit out. The rest of you are going to spell Amorphophallus titanum. Even if you’re out you can still have a go,’ adds Mr Epeler. ‘You just can’t win. Spell “Amorphophallus titanum,” our little flower.’

Not!
I think to myself, then smile. Grandad told me. It’s not little. It’s a monster — a great big, rare, smelly, putrid, stinking monster.

‘Pens poised… ’ Mr Epeler’s voice rings out. ‘Will the Aquamarine group and Yellow group and, um, Jake, please spell “Amorphophallus titanum.”

I look around. Heads are bent. Pens are scrawling over paper.

As I pick up my pen, I catch a glance from Ivy. There’s her lop-sided smile. And a lop-sided wink. I wink back.

Now, what was it that Grandad taught me?

Today I’ll teach Angus niceness. Angus rarely uses manners
.

I smile as I remember and start to write.

‘Pens down!’ calls Mr Epeler.

I put down my pen and double check my work, chanting to myself
Today I’ll teach Angus niceness. Angus rarely uses manners
. Yep, it’s all there.

Mr Epeler looks at us. ‘Each child is to hand their work for marking to the child behind. When you have corrected it please pass them to me and wait for the results.’

We swap books.

Mr Epeler walks to the front of the class and writes Amorphophallus titanum on the board. I wait quietly, knowing what’s to come.

Mr Epeler sorts through the books — one here, one there — placing them into two piles.

I clear my throat, trying to get Ivy’s attention, but she’s back to sitting with her head bowed, eyes down.

Mr Epeler stands up. ‘We have a winner,’ he announces. ‘Surprisingly, only one.’

Angus is already getting to his feet.

‘Yes Angus, it’s you,’ says Mr Epeler.

‘I spelt it right,’ says Francesca. ‘I know I did.’

‘Me too,’ says Madeline, two pink blotches in her cheeks.

Mr Epeler holds up his hand. ‘Many of you did manage to write the correct letters in the correct order,’ he says. ‘But unfortunately, you forgot about capitals and lower case.’

I frown wondering, What’s he mean?

‘Amorphophallus has a capital ‘A’, titanum is all in lower case,’ explains Mr Epeler.

Angus is standing up the front of the classroom — bowing!

Cries of
That’s not fair!
and
That’s mean!
fill the air.

I don’t join in.
I
have other plans. I put up my hand. ‘Excuse me,’ I say. ‘But, I think you’ve made a mistake.’

Someone’s turned on the quiet. Kids stare — from me to Mr Epeler, back to me.

Despite Kieran’s frantic wavings to shut up I repeat, ‘Mr Epeler, you’ve made a mistake.’

Mr Epeler looks puzzled as he says, ‘How so, Jake?’

‘I spelt the name of the flower correctly,’ I say. Walking to the front of the class I pick up a marker. ‘This is what I wrote.’ I write the name on the board.

As I write each letter, I repeat Grandad’s saying. ‘Today, I’ll teach Angus niceness.’

That’s my first word — titan. ‘Angus rarely uses manners.’ That’s my second — arum.

Kids start to laugh. Angus is standing there looking like he’s swallowed a bee.

‘Titan arum,’ I explain to Mr Epeler, ‘is the same name for your Amorphy — something — phallus! My Grandad told me.’ To hammer it home I point to each letter and say, ‘Today I’ll teach Angus niceness. Angus rarely uses manners.’

Angus takes a step in Mr Epeler’s direction shouting, ‘He can’t do that!’

All of 6E are booing him — Ivy Tan the loudest. ‘Yes, I can,’ I call over the din. ‘Silence!’ Mr Epeler claps his hands. ‘Silence.’ ‘The words were Amorphophallus titanum,’ screeches Angus. ‘Not titan arum. Jake’s cheating.’

The boos get louder.

Mr Epeler stands and pulls himself to full height. ‘I will be the judge of that!’ he hisses. ‘6E, sit down and be quiet, or you’ll
all
be helping me at netball training.’

Order quickly returns.

Mr Epeler stands, examining the board.

Angus has his arms folded. His mouth has been sucked into a straight line. His left eye has developed a twitch.

I wonder what Grandad’s doing right now. Probably having a kipper sandwich. His favourite. I smile as I remember his words
Another name for your flower is titan arum. Smells a bit like this
. He pointed to his kippers.
Rotten Fish
.

Mr Epeler strokes his chin. He is taking his time.

Everyone is quiet. Angus’s foot starts to tap.

Finally, Mr Epeler speaks. ‘I’ve made my decision,’ he says.

‘Jake wins!’ yells Kieran.

The class takes it up. ‘Jake wins. Jake wins. Jake wins.’ The feeling? So good!

‘Jake. Come forward.’

I stand beside Angus who steps away.

‘After much deliberation I have decided … ’

The room is as quiet as a churchyard at midnight.

‘I win,’ hisses Angus through clenched teach.

‘We’ll see,’ I hiss back.

‘I have decided that although Jake has, indeed, written the name of our flower — with the correct spelling — he has not performed the task, as set.’

‘Bollocks!’ says Kieran.

Mr Epeler gives him a big greasy and goes on, ‘Therefore, it is with great pleasure that I announce that Angus Allen wins.’

And with that Mr Epeler grabs Angus. He gives him a huge hug.

I am not disappointed. Grandad will be proud. I look at Angus. I see tufts of brown hair and arms flailing. I see a body start to jerk. Angus’s whole head is buried. The arms start to tremble, then twitch a bit.

I start to laugh. Ivy is laughing, too. Our laughter bounces round the classroom.

Mr Epeler hugs Angus harder.

Angus’s knees start to buckle. His body goes limp.

I congratulate myself. What a winner!

I once helped with a scientific study on the Migratory Patterns of Jellyfish. I was a jellyfish tagger. At certain times of the year when the tides were high, or if the winds blew from the south, whole flotillas of jellyfish would drift close to shore. My job was to catch the jellyfish and tag as many as I could before they drifted out to sea again. Often, I’d work all night. Often, the sea was so thick with jellyfish they’d find their way into your wetsuit. You had to be careful not to press too hard or they’d split in two. Then, you’d have to decide whether to tag only one of the halves, or both. Whole populations of jellyfish doubled this way. Little suckers!

I hate fleas. They are an occupational hazard and most dogs I know have them. They’re most annoying on those late nights when deadlines are fast approaching; you’re full of coffee and scratching like there’s no tomorrow — they can really put a wiggle in your line. I’ve lost a lot of fur recently. One time, when I was working on a picture book, I got this huge tick and went in the back legs — paralysed! My neighbour was on heat, too. Those sorts of things always happen to me. I like poodles.

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So Gross!

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