Spud - Learning to Fly (21 page)

ST CATHERINE’S SENIOR SOCIAL

I haven’t given girls much thought lately because I’ve had other more worthwhile distractions to daydream about. The hour long bus trip to St Catherine’s presented enough time to think about Amanda, become terrified and nauseous, and then issue myself a stern lecture to silence the gutless coward in my head. By the time we reached the school gates, I had righted the ship and was ready for whatever came my way. I then stepped off the bus and my left leg went lame. Limping into their school hall wasn’t the ideal first impression, but at least I managed to sneak in behind Fatty so as not to attract direct attention to my sudden and unexplained deformity.

Boggo did a quick circle of the hall and then ordered us outside for a strategy meeting.

Rambo advised Boggo to take it easy and wait until the party really got going before making his move. Boggo refused, and said by later on all the hot chicks would be taken and he’d be left with large girls with body odour. He then produced a rose and a business card and marched back into the hall in pursuit of the hot blonde dancing next to the DJ box.

Boggo returned thirty seconds later and without saying a word, unzipped Fatty’s kitbag, withdrew another rose and galloped back to the hall. He was back a minute later with a feverish look on his face and shouting, ‘Come on, Fatty, bring your kitbag, it’s like the sardine run in there!’ Fatty grabbed the kitbag and charged after Boggo, leaving the rest of us laughing and mocking and mostly talking about our visit to Mad Dog’s farm which is now only 20 days away!

I remained on the bench, even after the others had all gone in to dance. I’ve never once picked up a girl on the dance floor, this despite the fact that everybody else seems to do it all the time. I also didn’t want to bump into Amanda and then have to think of something clever and witty to say.

‘Spuddy!’ came the high-pitched shriek from behind me. It was Christine and soon she was sitting next to me on the bench. She said she was freezing and wrapped her arms around me.

‘Why is Dorkhead handing out roses and business cards to everyone?’ she asked. I told her it was Boggo’s new spading technique and she roared with laughter. ‘Okay, if he had given one girl a rose it might have worked …’ She giggled and said that Fatty was too shy to approach anyone directly so he was leaving small piles of business cards on the snacks and drinks tables.

‘Should we go somewhere quiet and touch each other?’ asked Christine without even changing the tone of her voice. After struggling for breath, I politely declined and said, ‘Perhaps later.’ Christine told me I was hilarious, stuck her tongue playfully in my ear and ran off.

Back at the dance, it was clear that Boggo’s spading plan had backfired spectacularly. Yellow rose petals littered the dance floor and everywhere people were giggling over Boggo’s and Fatty’s business cards. The two idiots were dancing together towards the far side of the hall and grinning at anyone who looked at them. Poor Fatty was sweating profusely from all the activity and Boggo’s dancing style appeared to be a combination of aggressive head butting and a strip show. Unbelievably, Garlic seemed to be coming right with a girl nearly twice his size, while Vern was solo dancing like a robot near the deserted snacks table. I looked around for Amanda but there was no sign of her. I imagine she thinks school dances are beneath her now that she’s a Matric.

Then I noticed a girl dressed in school uniform enter the hall. She paused at the doorway for a moment and her eyes scanned the room like a small falcon. She began walking purposefully towards me.

‘Are you Spud Milton?’ she asked in a shrill voice.

‘Yes,’ I replied in an even squeakier one.

‘You were Oliver?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘Yes,’ I replied in a deep and confident manner.

‘You look different,’ said the girl.

‘I dyed my hair for the part,’ I said rather grandly.

The girl didn’t look impressed and said, ‘My friends used to think you were hot,’ and then looked me up and down as if I’d gone to pieces. ‘But that was when we were eleven. We’ve grown out of it now.’

I nodded and didn’t know what to say next.

‘Anyway,’ she said as if she’d suddenly grown decidedly bored with me, ‘Ms Lawrence wants to see you in her study.’

‘Who?’ I asked.

‘Amanda Lawrence. She sent me to get you. Please follow me.’

‘Right,’ I said and stood up.

I followed the girl out of the hall, over a hockey field and across a neat courtyard. A few older girls stood around talking and drinking tea but didn’t seem to notice me pass by. My guide then led me up a double staircase and along a narrow passage with a number of closed doors on either side. It all seemed rather surreal, like I was somehow watching myself from the outside.

I was sure I would be suspended if I were discovered in a girls’ boarding house at ten o’clock in the evening. In fact, considering I’m already on final warning thanks to last year’s Mad House debacle, this may well be enough to see me expelled. The thing was, at that precise moment, I didn’t care a damn.

The girl stopped at a door marked HOUSE LEADER. Underneath was the name AMANDA LAWRENCE (6th Form). The girl knocked timidly but there was no answer. Then she knocked louder and a husky voice called out, ‘Come in, Samantha.’

Samantha opened the door and entered timidly. ‘Spud Milton to see you, Ms Lawrence.’

The husky voice said, ‘Thank you.’ Samantha nodded and then let me in.

Amanda’s ‘study’ was also a bedroom, a kitchenette and a small library. Her walls were painted white with beautifully framed poetry and song lyrics hanging at odd angles. There was also a painting of a naked girl with red hair standing against the trunk of a large tree.

And there she was – Amanda – lying in bed dressed in cream silk pyjamas with her red locks spread across the pile of white pillows that supported her head. Littering the bed were books, files and notepads filled with writing that now seemed as familiar as my own.

And then her wide mouth cracked and suddenly Julia Roberts was smiling at me. There was nothing to be done, except to fall passionately in love with her immediately.

SCORING SCORECARD

CRAZY EIGHT CRITICISMS