Paws, page 3
“Excellent. So, let’s have some questions. At what temperature does the method tell you to cook the pizza in the oven?” She swivels on her green beanbag. “Chris?”
Chris adjusts his glasses, pushing them back up his nose. “Two hundred and twenty.” He smiles, his lips all big and squishy looking.
Ms Westing nods and then looks at Matilda. “What do you think?”
Matilda slides her legs out and then draws them back into her body. She does this twice more before answering. “Two hundred and twenty degrees,” she answers in her usual voice, where the words come out slower than everyone else’s.
Ms Westing smiles, and now she’s facing me. “Alex?”
“Two hundred and twenty degrees,” I answer, looking straight into her brown eyes like Chris did.
She nods and then moves on to James and finally Joshua. We all give the same answer, and Ms Westing says it’s correct. She asks some more questions about the method, asking each of us first so it’s not Chris all the time, and I listen carefully to what everyone else says so I can be right too.
But then it’s my turn to be first.
“What do you think Matilda’s favourite pizza topping is from the list, Alex?”
I frown at Ms Westing because I have no idea. I don’t know why she thinks I would know this. My cheeks and chest feel hot, even though the fan is spinning right above me.
“It’s just for fun, so maybe have a guess,” she adds.
I can’t remember what else was on the list, only my favourites, so I say salami and pepperoni.
Matilda laughs. “No no no,” she shouts, squirming in her beanbag. And then she laughs louder, squealing and squawking.
I ram my hands over my ears. “Stop it,” I say. “Stop shouting.” But Matilda keeps laughing and saying no.
“Calm down, Matilda, calm down,” Ms Westing says, her voice stern and a bit rude.
I wait for ages, staring at my knees again until Ms Westing taps me and I look up. She smiles and nods and I take my hands off my ears, but keep them close in case. It’s quiet, apart from the sounds of Matilda’s breathing.
“What do you say, Matilda?” my teacher asks.
“Sorry, Alex,” Matilda says, but I don’t look at her because I don’t like her now.
“Okay, thank you. Alex?”
I shift my eyes up quickly to Ms Westing and she smiles again, wrinkly skin and freckles stretching on her cheeks and in the corners of her eyes, and her curly hair bobs around her face.
“Matilda says her favourite pizza topping is tomato.”
I look away again because I don’t care. This time I fix my stare on the grey tiles on the floor and the dirty grey-black lines that surround each one, and at my black shoes, sitting side by side and flat in the centre of one square tile. My laces are done up tight; I asked Mum to make sure, because of what happened yesterday.
I do not like tomato.
“Everyone back to work,” Ms Westing says, the words flying over my head.
I turn, the beanbag rustling and getting stiff and hard in places. Lots of the other kids are looking over at us. My eyes find Jared. He has a grin on his face, then he whispers something in Ella’s ear and they both giggle and glance over towards the Big B.
I hate Matilda. She’s made everyone stare, and now Jared and Ella are laughing at me. I should have stayed at my desk. I clench my fists tight like my laces. I hate school. I can’t wait to go home. I’m going to play some OrbsWorld and try to finish Map 5, and then I’ll practise tricks with Kevin before and after dinner, because now I need that trophy more than ever.
The bell rings. Finally, it’s the end of the day and I get to go home.
I have not liked today.
It didn’t get better after Matilda ruined everything and made Jared and Ella laugh at me. I grit my teeth as I think about it, but un-grit them when I remember that I might get to play OrbsWorld if I tidy my room, and that Kevin is waiting for me.
I push back my chair and grab my pencils one at a time, starting at yellow, as fast as my hands can go, and shove them into my pencil case. I don’t care about the noise of everyone’s chairs on the tiles or the loud talking or the way everyone charges behind me, because sometimes loud noises don’t upset me. And right now I only care about getting back to my laptop and Kevin.
As I zip up my blue, checked pencil case and place my English book into my tray, Ms Westing’s shoes appear beside me. They’re brown with small holes in them that are shaped like flowers. I know they’re called pumps because Mum has a pair like them. I don’t know why they’re called pumps, though.
“Were you okay today, Alex?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes, thank you.” The classroom door squeaks as it’s opened and closed over and over again.
“You’ve been very quiet, and you didn’t write as many words as you normally do.” She crouches down so her eyes are at the same level as mine, even though she isn’t much taller than me because I’m quite tall, one of the tallest in the class. Dad says that means my legs are longer and I should be able to run faster than everyone else, but so far that isn’t true. I don’t look at Ms Westing’s eyes though. Instead, I keep staring at her pumps and how her long green dress brushes against the top of them.
I don’t know what to say.
“I know Matilda upset you today but she did say sorry. Sometimes Matilda just needs extra help to understand other people’s emotions.” Her voice is softer now. I can’t hear any noises in the classroom behind or around us, but I can hear all the shouting and screaming of the kids outside, and I picture them all grabbing their bags and leaving the school. I wonder if Jared is still here. I might be able to tell him about Tunnels of Disaster and Doom Map 5. I didn’t get a chance at morning tea or lunch because it rained so it was indoor play, but I always find that too loud so I went to the Harmony Learning Building instead with Miss Lucy, which is where kids who feel lonely or sad are allowed to go.
I nod again, still not sure what to say.
“Okay, honey. Well, I hope tomorrow you can show me some more of your amazing work, and especially some of that fab artwork you do. It’s Wednesday, don’t forget.”
Of course I won’t forget. I love Wednesdays, because Wednesdays mean art and PE, where I get to train my legs to run as fast as Jared and his friends, and tomorrow is our last chance to make districts.
“And later this week we have the super special surprise assembly coming up, remember?”
Of course I do. I don’t know why she’s telling me things I already know about.
I look up at Ms Westing’s face and at her big grin that shows all her teeth. Her skin is even more wrinkly up close, which makes me think of Ned’s dog, Dennis, but I don’t say this because I once told Mikael J that he looked like a Saint Bernard and his friends said I was mean and that made me upset and then Mikael J left Jessops Lake Primary School forever.
“That’s right, on Friday there might be something about dogs . . .” Ms Westing waggles her eyebrows again and I smile, because I think eyebrow waggling might be a good expression. “I know how much you love dogs, and I bet you’re as excited as me about the PAWS Dog Show on Saturday, right?”
“Yes,” I say. “I’m entering my cockapoo Kevin into one of the contests, either tricks or obedience, because that’s what he’s best at and then I can win a trophy.”
“Excellent!” she says. “Well, make sure to practise. I can’t wait to watch Kevin at the show and see what he can do.”
I nod and smile and she winks and says goodbye, and I know this means I can turn and leave.
I push open the classroom door and find my bag – it’s the only one left on the racks, but I know which one is mine anyway because it’s in front of a label with my name on it and a pencil drawing of Kevin that I did. I grab my aqua water bottle from the box and start walking towards the gate. I hear someone close by mention “PAWS” and I peek to my right at two boys. I don’t know the boys, I think they’re in grade 5, but I listen. They’re talking about the dog show. The one with black hair says he doesn’t have a dog. The other boy, who has lighter brown hair than me, says he can’t wait for the police dog performance, but then I don’t hear any more because they turn right at the end of the path and I have to turn left.
I start thinking about what I’m going to do when I get home. I plan to do tricks with Kevin. We haven’t practised those yet, though he can already spin around on his back legs and roll over. I want to train him to lie on his back and then jump into the air, and in the golden retriever book it says–
“Did you cry today, Ally Wally?”
My stomach becomes light and my breathing flutters in my chest. My eyes stay fixed on the ground, on the gravelly path, because that’s Ryan’s voice, and Ryan is nearly always mean to me. I keep moving my feet, staring at my shoes, the laces still in tight bows, listening to the noises of kids all around me and the cars out on the street. I want Ryan to go away.
“Was Matilda mean to you?” He makes a snorting sound.
I don’t know how Ryan knows this because he’s not even in 6W.
His shoes appear beside mine, the scuffing loud. I can also hear the sound of my heart beating in my ears. Ryan isn’t wearing black shoes like he should be. His shoes are red with white laces and black stripes on the side, and they’re really clean.
“You’re not allowed to wear shoes like that,” I tell him.
“So what? None of your business,” he replies. I see his hand fly at me and whack up against the hard edge of my cap.
I flinch as my cap flips off my head and lands on the path, and I want even more for Ryan to go away. I take a step to my right and bend to pick up my cap, heat and sweat all over my face. I can feel my eyes burning and the tears that are about to come out. As I reach out, another hand appears, smaller than mine with lighter skin, and lifts my cap from the ground.
I open my mouth to tell Ryan to go away but it’s not Ryan. It’s the new kid with the white hair who I saw at 9 Cantering Court yesterday.
“Leave him alone, Ryan, you bully,” a voice says.
Both me and the new kid turn and see Angel with an older girl who’s wearing a Jessops Lake Secondary School uniform like the one Ned wears, but with a black skirt instead of shorts. Angel has her hands on her hips.
“Oh, whatever,” Ryan shouts at Angel and then stomps away.
My eyes follow him as he keeps walking, wondering if he’ll turn around and come back, but he doesn’t. Instead, he breaks into a run and disappears out the gate, his bag bouncing against his butt.
I wonder if Ryan might be faster than Jared.
“Are you okay, Alex?”
I look at Angel and nod and say, “Yes, thank you,” and the older girl and Angel both give me the same smile and walk down the path towards the gate. Angel calls back over her shoulder that she’ll see me tomorrow.
My body feels tight, like someone invisible is giving me a big painful hug, and my head is a bit confused. I turn back to the new kid, who is still holding my cap, and he moves it closer to me.
I take it from him and before I can look away I notice that he has really blue eyes.
“Your eyes are blue,” I say.
“Yeah,” he answers, and he smiles, but only on one side of his mouth.
“I like blue, it’s my favourite colour,” I add, then put my cap back on my head.
“That’s cool. I like brown.”
I frown. “I don’t like brown.”
The kid shrugs. “I do. It’s the colour of tree trunks and mud and fences and stuff. Your eyes are brown,” he adds, squinting at me.
I look over at the road and at the cars parked along the side, kids in Jessops Lake uniforms still wandering up and down the path, some whizzing past on bikes.
“Is that your house I saw you at last night?” the boy asks.
I nod and glance up again at his blue eyes. They’re not aqua, more like sky blue. I notice one of his feet at the bottom of my field of vision, kicking backwards and forwards, his knee bent a little, the scrape scrape of the stones underneath.
“I’m going to be living at number nine. With my mum and sister. You can come over if you want.”
I don’t think I want to, because Mum says I shouldn’t go to strangers’ houses or to people’s houses who aren’t my friends – and I’m not friends with the new kid.
“My name’s Derek,” he says.
Nodding, I point to the gate. “I have to go because my mum and brother will be here soon.”
“Okay, cool. My sister’s waiting for me anyway, we catch the bus together.”
I start walking and Derek walks beside me, close. I can hear the crunch of his footsteps and I bite the back of my teeth together.
“You like OrbsWorld?” he asks.
I look across at him, my eyebrows rising a little. “How do you know?”
“I don’t,” he says, doing his sideways smile again, his blue eyes all bright and wide. “OrbsWorld is my favourite game.”
We exit the school gate and there’s a girl with really long white hair like Derek’s waiting on the other side. It’s the same girl I saw him with at 9 Cantering Court. She smiles at me, her lips pink and her skin shiny. She has a nice face.
“This is my sister,” Derek says. “Mindy, this is . . .”
I stare at Derek, who stares at me.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Alex.”
“Alex,” he repeats. “Alex, this is my sister Mindy. Alex lives on the same road as us,” he adds, looking up at his sister. Her eyes are exactly like Derek’s.
“Well, hi, Alex.” Her teeth are very white, like her hair. She adjusts her bag on her back and pats Derek’s shoulder. “We should go. The bus will be here in a sec.” She walks ahead and gives me another smile.
“Okay, well bye, Alex. See you tomorrow.” Derek smiles too and follows his sister.
I watch them go, walking side by side and talking.
I wonder if Derek has completed Tunnels of Disaster and Doom Map 5.
I throw Kevin’s ball, high, and he jumps up to catch it but misses, his jaws closing onto air. He lands with a huff. The green tennis ball bounces behind him on the short grass and he tries again to catch it, all four of his little paws launching him off the ground, but even though he can jump high for a small dog, he misses again. I shake my head and watch, my hands on my hips, as he scrambles after the ball. It bounces again and again until eventually it hits the brick wall below the kitchen window and he grabs it in his mouth.
“Kevin, that was rubbish,” I say, as he trots towards me, tail wagging and ears back. He drops the ball by my bare feet and I pick it up. It’s all wet from his slobbery mouth. “Ew.” I pinch the ball between the fingertips on my other hand and then wipe my wet palm against my school shorts, my nose wrinkled, and shake my head at Kevin. He’s sitting right in front of me, staring at his ball.
“But you’re bad at catching, Kevin, so what’s the point in us practising?” He cocks his head, ears pitched forwards and dangling below his panting mouth. His tongue pokes out over his tiny, white, jagged teeth, and he looks like he’s smiling even though Ned says dogs don’t smile, it’s just the way their faces look.
I’m not sure he’s right.
I squat down and pat Kevin’s head, his curls all soft. He licks my arm and then stands, nudging the ball with his nose. He looks up at me again, his big eyes looking browner than ever in the afternoon sunshine.
Derek would like Kevin’s eyes. Maybe I can tell him about them tomorrow.
I swivel on my bare toes to face the road. My shoes are sitting side by side inside the front door, where I put them after taking them off on the way home, my feet hot and swollen from the humidity. I like having my feet bare when I’m at home.
Cantering Court is quiet, with only a few birds – magpies or crows, I think – calling to each other, the quiet yapping of a dog I haven’t heard before, and voices shouting in the distance. It’s probably kids playing in their gardens like me, but I like to stay quiet, because being noisy makes people look at you.
The fourteen palm trees that grow in the front yards in Cantering Court reach high into the blue sky, which is so bright and seems to go on forever. It’s hot too, but I stay in the shade of the trees like I’m always told to. Mum says that even though we’re lucky to have such lovely brown skin, we can still burn, so we have to be careful. The sun beats down on the road, making it look like it has puddles on it, and the grass is scratchy under my feet. I shift them to make the feeling go away.
Not everyone is home from work yet, and the shiny blue Volkswagen isn’t parked on the drive at number nine.
Derek said he and his sister caught the bus, but no buses ever come up this road so maybe he was wrong. When I was tidying my room I kept looking out my bedroom window, to see if a bus did come, but then Ned came in and shut my blinds and told me to stop being so nosy. I don’t know why – I always look out my window at the neighbours and Ned has never said anything about that before. Then we both got in trouble because I was pulling the blinds up and Ned was pulling them down and Mum said we’d break them. “Pack it in because I’m just about done with everything,” she said. I don’t know what she meant but I cried because I don’t like it when Mum shouts.
Ned is weird and horrible. Mum says he’s “growing up” and “a bit confused”.
I don’t think I’ll be rude like him when I’m fourteen.
Kevin’s wet nose nudges at my hand, which is holding his ball, and I turn back and kiss him on the head, his curls tickling my cheeks and nose. Drool drips from his mouth and he pants loudly, puff puff puff, his face close to mine. I draw back and cough. “Ugh, your breath is smelly.” Kevin keeps panting and I smile at him.
“Okay, we’ll try a few more times,” I say, scratching behind his ear, “but then we’ll move on to tricks because you’re better at tricks and that’s how we’ll win the trophy.”
I stand up and tell Kevin to sit, but he already is, so I prepare to throw the ball. He shuts his mouth and ducks his head, which I know means he’s getting ready to chase it. I throw it, higher and harder this time, but too far to the right. The ball goes straight over the fence and into my neighbour Phil’s back garden.
