Balaclava Boy Page 3

  “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.”

  We both had exactly the same idea.

  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.

  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.

  9

  Friday Surprise

  On Friday, Tommy wore his navy balaclava again. We hardly noticed. There was too much else to stare at. Our whole classroom had turned into one very strange, very bizarre place!

  Miss Venter looked around with her eyes wide. She kept shaking her head very slowly, not saying a word. Not even “Dear! Dear! Dear!” The whole class – all of us – were wearing balaclavas of some kind! Every single one of us in Grade Four SV!

  Me – I’d borrowed my granny’s tea-cosy. It was a pink-and-purple crocheted one with three pink-and-purple flowers on the top. I had a problem with seeing, though. The hole for the tea-pot handle was long and narrow. So I could only look with one eye at a time.

  And Dumisani had his cousin’s army balaclava on. It was very smart, made of camouflage material. It was also much too big. Dumisani kept yanking it around, but there were still bunches of extra material everywhere.

  “Isn’t this awesome, Doogz?” Dumisani said through his bunches.

  I nodded hard so my three flowers bounced around on top of my head. “It’s – it’s surreal,” I answered. ‘Surreal’ is also one of my big sister’s favourite words.

  We turned round to check if Tommy was enjoying his surprise. He was definitely smiling. We knew by the way his eyes crinkled up.

  I left my stupid boring decimal fractions and went to the bin to sharpen my pencil. Mostly so I could have a better look. And it was a mega-awesome, mega-surreal sight! Even with only one eye! Thirty-one covered heads bobbed above the desks. Like round balloons!

  Obakeng was wearing an old black beanie. He’d pulled it down to his chin. And he’d cut a very skew, very jagged hole to see through. X-man and Riyaad and Innocent, aka Guilty, all wore pantyhose legs. Their foreheads and noses were squashed flat. They looked fierce and quite crazy.

  Then there was Johan Eksteen Clayton. He had a towel or something wrapped round his head, held together with nappy pins. His eye-hole was even more jagged than Obakeng’s. Bits of towel-fluff lay all over his tracksuit top. Like he’d been in a snowstorm. He kept trying to brush it off, saying “Eish! Eish!” under his breath.

  Cherise wore a bright pink ski mask. It belonged to her mom’s friend, who went skiing on some snowy mountains called the Alps. That’s what she told us. Two bright pink pompoms dangled from her head like furry ears. Even Billy de Beer, aka Lost In Space, had a scarf tied round his nose and mouth. Like a Wild West gunfighter.

  “Who on earth is that at the bin?!” Miss Venter was speaking again after the shock wore off a bit. “Tyrone? Melissa? Mariam? Doogal? Whoever you are, I’m sure your pencil is sharp by now. Sit down and get on with your sums! Dear! Dear! Dear!”

  Break-time was even more fun. All us soccer guys went rushing past the benches where the Grade Five bullies sat. Shouting insults at them through our balaclavas. Everything we could think of.

  “Hey, you bunch of losers!”

  “Hey, you brain-dead, knobbly-knee idiots!”

  “Hey, Babies. Did you get lost on your way to Teletubby Crèche? It’s that way, Babies.”

  For today we were safe. The bullies couldn’t tell who was who. They mostly stared at us, looking confused. Or maybe Mr Rasool’s lecture was still on their minds.

  “Hey, you bunch of losers!”

  “Isn’t this great, being incognito?” Donna-Kyle said to us. She was under her white balaclava, under her tree with her encyclopaedia on her lap. “I could be a famous film star. Or a Nobel scientist. My dad could be a cabinet minister. Or the Mine manager. I could pretend to be anyone.”

  Tommy gave a star performance

  That was a nice-sounding word: ‘incognito’. I said it over in my mind to remember it. And then we rushed down to the soccer field. It was a bit hopeless, though. No one could work out who was in whose team. So we mostly ran around kicking the ball in all directions and scoring goals any time we got near the nets.

  Tommy gave a star performance. He took the ball all the way from midfield to the penalty box. Even Lucky, aka AC Milan, couldn’t rob him. Well, if it was Lucky inside the green pantyhose leg w
ith the shiny butterfly sequins!

  Library was straight after break. Mr Abrahamse nearly had a heart attack when we led in.

  “What is this now? How must I teach mind maps to students I don’t even recognise? Maybe I’m stuck in some bank robbery no one’s bothered to mention to me? Or a hijacking? I don’t even own a car and here I am, surrounded by a gang of hijackers!”

  Mr Abrahamse, aka Did You Wash Your Hands?, went to complain to the headmaster.

  But Mr Rasool didn’t scold us. He stood in front of the library posters with tears in his eyes. “I understand, children. You are trying to be kind and welcoming to Tommy. Am I right? Behaving just the way Colliery Primary children should behave.”

  So Mr Abrahamse went on teaching stupid boring mind maps to students he couldn’t see. Until the bell rang and it was time for Free Orals.

  We lined up to lead back to class. Dumisani’s eyes were shining. “Ready to rumble, Doogal my man!” he said through his camouflage bunches. “Especially now Cherise isn’t going to use up the whole lesson. Now I can really wow the crowd.”

  “You feel free, Dumz,” I laughed. I was just hoping Miss Venter wouldn’t make me speak. I don’t like standing in front all alone. I’d rather do the Audience Participation part.

  But that Friday, Tommy had a surprise for us too!

  He grabbed Dumisani out of the line.

  “Big D, listen. You know for this Free Orals lesson: Will you do something for me? Will you tell the class why I wear a balaclava? If I explain to you now, then will you explain to them?”

  We Doo Dudes both stopped dead, staring at Tommy. There in the middle of the passage. Holding our breath while the rest of Grade Four SV went marching past.

  Tommy gave a big sigh. “You see, my last school was in Scotland. Because my dad was on a short-term contract on the oil rigs there. And that was my sixth new school …”

  I listened to Tommy’s whole story, peering at him with one eye. When he had finished, I shook my head so I could feel the flowers swinging around on top.

  “Is that all?” I demanded. “Is that the only reason? I’m telling you, Balaclava Boy, the class is going to be disappointed. Big time. They’ve been thinking all sorts of exciting, interesting stuff.”

  “I know,” Tommy said. His voice was soft. “That’s why I want it to stop now.”

  But Dumisani’s eyes were shining still. “Don’t worry, BB. I can still wow the crowd with this. I’ll get them going. You watch. This could be good fun!”

  And then we had to run. Miss Venter was waiting at the classroom door, patting her chest.

  10

  Friday Free Orals - Part 1

  Sometimes I don’t understand Dumz, even though he’s my best friend in the world. Sometimes he doesn’t make sense.

  Like now. Why did he think Tommy’s story could sound like fun? How did he think he could wow the class with it? What Tommy told us was one big letdown to me. Like opening up a huge present and finding socks inside. Or one marble. About as stupid and boring as decimal fractions.

  But Dumz was bouncing around in our desk. Nearly knocking me onto the floor. Keen for Free Orals to start. He turned round to Tommy and said, “Hey, New Bru, how about this: After I explain, you come stand next to me, right? And you pull your balaclava off. Just like that! That will be a real party-time! I bet the class will enjoy that!”

  Before Tommy could answer, Miss Venter was on our case. “Dumisani! Doogal! Face the front! Now, who would like to speak first?”

  Dumisani’s hand rocketed up. So did lots of other hands. Miss Venter chose someone from the back: someone with a pirate scarf and a nurse’s hospital mask hiding her mouth and nose. Dumz and I couldn’t work out who it was. We didn’t recognise her voice. And we couldn’t turn round to check which desk she came from.

  Loudly, clearly, the girl said, “I’m going to tell you a funny story. A true funny story.”

  Her story was about being in a taxi called Happy Days – with a bad-tempered taxi-driver. She kept pretending to be the taxi-driver, yelling and complaining about his passengers. About the traffic. About his CD player that kept stopping and starting.

  Then she pretended to be the taxi’s guardtjie, saying in a squeaky voice, “Relax, my Big Boss! Chill, my Main Man. Life is good. You gotta count your blessings.”

  She was right. It was very funny! Around the class, every one was falling around laughing. And then I suddenly realised who it was: Mpho, aka Mousie Mousie!

  “I can’t believe it, Dumz!” I whispered. “This is bizarre!”

  And that’s the truth. Normally Mpho says orals with her head down. Normally she speaks so softly, you can’t hear a single word. Not even from the front desk.

  She kept pretending to be the taxi-driver, yelling and complaining about his passengers.

  “Must be the mask,” Dumisani whispered back. He was still bouncing. His eyes were still shining.

  When Mpho finished, we all cheered her back to her desk. Obakeng gave one of his steam-train whistles. Miss Venter just smiled.

  The next speaker was Donna-Kyle, aka Factfile, aka Discovery Channel. We all quietened down. She often tells us interesting stuff.

  She was the one who explained what ‘aka’ meant. Sometime early in our Grade Four year. When we were using aka all the time, trying out different nicknames for everyone.

  “See,” she’d told us on that Friday, “‘a’ is for also, ‘k’ stands for known and the second ‘a’ is for as. So when we say Kristel, aka 7de Laan, we really mean Kristel, also known as 7de Laan.” And that was very interesting to know.

  Today Donna-Kyle stood there in her white balaclava and said, “Do you guys know why we use the word ‘balaclava’?”

  “Nah!” we all shouted back.

  “So shall I tell you then?”

  “Yebo yes!” we shouted back. This is what Miss Venter calls Audience Participation.

  So Donna-Kyle told us about a war long ago, the Crimean War, when the English and Russians were fighting. But the English soldiers were struggling because it was freezing cold and they weren’t used to so much snow and ice. So the English ladies knitted them thick masks to keep their faces warm. With holes, so they could still see to shoot. And then they had a huge battle at a town called Balaclava. So the soldiers named their masks after this town.

  And that was interesting too. We all clapped and cheered as Donna-Kyle sat down. Thandi and Hannah yelled, “You go, girl!”

  “Dumisani? Would you like to speak next?” Miss Venter asked.

  Dumisani took his time getting to the front. As he usually does for Free Orals. He took a long, deep breath and looked slowly around the classroom. Everyone was silent and still, waiting. Then he pulled his army balaclava straight. And began.

  11

  Friday Free Orals - Part 2

  “You guys all know I don’t like school much, right?” Dumisani said.

  Around the class, everyone laughed. Thandi and Hannah and Innocent called out, “No lie, Big D!”

  Dumisani went on. “But, dudes, I have to tell you: this week was another story. This week my mom didn’t have to shout for me to get out of bed. Or into my uniform. This week Doogz didn’t have to wait and wait for me outside. Hey, I couldn’t get to school fast enough. Do you guys want to know why?”

  “Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” everyone chanted.

  “Well, because this was the best week ever in Grade Four. The best week I’ve had in my whole time at school. Do you know why?”

  “Why? Why? Why?” everyone chanted again. I smiled under my tea-cosy. He’s the King of Audience Participation, my friend Dumz!

  “Well, it’s because of this new guy. And his balaclava. He made every day awesome!”

  And now, with the class listening to every single word, Dumisani explained about Tommy. Just the way Tommy had explained to us. How Tommy had been to seven different schools because his dad was a short-term contractor. How Tommy had been a new pupil seven different times. And how ho
rrible, horrible, horrible it was to be new. With everyone staring at you and whispering about you and making you feel left out and alone.

  “But then, in January, he went to this new school in Scotland, right?” Dumisani went on. “And it’s freezing cold there at that time. So he had to wear a balaclava. And he says it was the most amazing thing! Suddenly he didn’t feel horrible. Suddenly he didn’t care what the other kids did. He felt safe and comfortable and protected and not shy any more. It makes sense, right?”

  Around the class, all the balaclavas and ski masks and pantyhose legs were nodding. You could feel it in the air: it made sense. Grade Four SV understood.

  “So,” Dumisani said, “Tommy asked Mr Rasool if he could wear one at Colliery Primary too, it being his seventh new school! Just so he wouldn’t feel so bad being new. And that’s the reason, dudes. That’s the reason why Tommy wears a balaclava. We all guessed wrong. How about that?”

  This time, everyone was quiet. Maybe they were just thinking. Or maybe they were disappointed, like I thought. But Dumisani wasn’t going to leave things like that. Not in his Free Oral!

  “I might have a little surprise for you,” he said. “Maybe, just maybe, Tommy will take it off now. Because he’s not a new boy any more. He’s one of us, right?” And then Dumisani got the whole class going: “Come on, dudes! Let’s hear it! Tom-mee! Tom-mee! Balaclava Boy!”

  Soon everyone was chanting along: “Tom-mee! Tommee! Balaclava Boy!” Really enjoying themselves. I banged with my ruler on my desk to keep them all in time.

  Slowly Tommy got up and went to stand next to Dumisani. He put his hands up to his balaclava and the chanting stopped. We were all dying to see what he looked like. Even if his reason wasn’t so exciting.

  “Just one thing,” said Tommy. His voice seemed very soft and shaky. “You have to promise I can still play soccer with you. Even with my balaclava off.”

  Obakeng yelled from his desk, “Hey, my bru. You’re our Supa Striker. Nothing’s going to change that!”