A Uniform Approach
Andrew Elstone
Austin Macauley Publishers
A Uniform Approach
About the Author
About the Book
Copyright Information
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About the Author
Andrew currently lives in Melbourne, Australia. He has a degree in criminology and has worked in administration roles for healthcare and not-for-profit organisations. Andrew has an interest in amateur theatre and film, in addition to his passion for writing. He has a special interest in social issues and gender-based discussions. This is his first children’s book, which he hopes to be the first of many to come.
About the Book
Riley Goldsmith’s biggest fear has always been that one day, school bully Scott McElroy would swallow him whole! But when Riley decides to wear his sister’s hand-me-down skirt to school one morning, a schoolyard bully becomes the least of his problems.
Riley is surprised by all the attention he is getting from his uniform choices and is worried that he may be asked to wave a rainbow flag at the end-of-term athletics carnival.
All Riley wants is to be a kid. I mean, after all, is a boy in a skirt really going to be the end of the world?
Copyright Information
Copyright © Andrew Elstone (2019)
The right of Andrew Elstone to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781528933186 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781528933193 (Hardback)
ISBN 9781528967365 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published (2019)
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
25 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5LQ
Chapter 1
Mr Symonds was wrong, Climate change wasn’t going to be the end of the world, I was. All those times Mum said to me, “If you lose your goggles at swimming lessons, it’s not the end of the world.” What the heck did she know? And all those times Mr Symonds would tell me about the green lighthouse effect, it doesn’t matter now. I’d barely made it to the front gate of school when the year 6 vice-captain gave me the biggest greasy you could have seen it from another planet ‒ perhaps I’ll ask Mum and Dad if it was reported on the news when I get home tonight. Or better yet, if I make it home tonight.
“Riley!” I heard from behind me. I hated my name, so stupid and whiny. Mum always said to me you know if a name works based on how it sounds when you’re yelling to find your kids at the supermarket. The more screechy the name and the more people who turned to look, the more downmarket it was. I think she worked out this theory after I was born though, as every time we went to the shops she never looked forward to chasing me all the way through the frozen food aisle like a headless chook.
“Rileeyyyy!” I heard again. This time I turned around with a sense of dread and saw it was Benjamin. He was my best friend, but not because I liked him better than everyone else, but mainly because he liked me more than even I did. And I’m not sure why I even liked Benjamin; he didn’t share any of his junk food with me at morning tea and he thinks Pokémon is a kind of rash you get in The Amazon. So trading cards with him was absolutely no fun at all.
“Mate, what are you doing buddy?” he said earnestly. Benjamin always called me mate and buddy and it always made me feel really weird. It’s as if he didn’t know we were mates, but constantly wanted me to reassure him that we were. I think he also heard his older cousins banter a lot when working on building sites that he wanted to feel more like a man, though I don’t think it suited him all that well. He sounded more like a loner than a builder.
I gave him a puzzled look, even though I knew exactly what he was talking about. “How do you mean, matey?” I said sarcastically. Benjamin picked at his gums with his fingers, which he usually did when he felt anxious or when he was trying to stop himself from giggling in the middle of maths class.
“Uh, nothing mate. Let’s go to the canteen benches!”
That was our usual spot because Benjamin always felt safe knowing that microwavable treats were close by.
We wandered through the gates, past the vice-captain who was still looking at me like I was one of those dirty dole bludgers that Dad always joked about whenever we watched A Current Affair. Pure disgust, but then again I was used to being seen with Benjamin who was known for getting nose bleeds almost every day, despite being told by Mr Symonds on a daily basis not to drill for oil every opportunity he got.
We passed the handball courts and the giant chessboard next to the auditorium, and sat in our usual spot by the canteen. Benjamin liked to sit here so that in case his packed lunch wasn’t enough he could easily buy a doughnut or a finger bun with the money he made from doing magic tricks at his granddads veterans club. His magic was bogus though; instead of getting items to disappear I always suspected when he put things in his mouth he’d actually eaten them. And no one would ever know, or at least they wouldn’t be present later when he went on a long and needed trip to the loo.
“Did you watch the new series of House of Cards last night?” asked Benjamin eagerly.
“Nah, I don’t watch it, remember?” It’s not because I didn’t want to, but our family didn’t have Netflix or Amazon or anything cool. Besides House of Cards is a super adult show that I don’t think he even understands but feels cool by telling me he watches it. We still went the local Video Ezy to rent old copies of ‘Everybody Loves Raymond’, and sometimes Dad would chuck in an old series of ‘Doc Martin’ if we were really unlucky.
Benjamin would still tell me about the show anyway even though I had no bleedin’ idea what he was going on about, let alone him. I sat waiting for the school bell to clang in our ears, and that’s when I saw Scott McElroy thudding towards us. Ever since we were in pre-school and I pointed at him in the middle of our nativity and said, “That’s Scott McElroy and he’s a baddie!” I never seemed to have been able to escape his clutches.
“What are youse wearing there, Goldsmith?” he commanded as he curled his hand into a stone fist.
He called me by my last name, which made me feel like he was a drill sergeant or something.
I could see Benjamin’s mouth open and lips trembling, trying to stand up to defend my honour, but being too worried that one punch to the gut would make him hurl last night’s soft taco’s all over the Astroturf.
“It’s the uniform,” I said with cheek. “Everyone’s wearing one. Including you.” Other people gathered around us like we were gladiators ready for battle. “Mine’s just a bit less restrictive than yours,” I said. A few people laughed, but not loud enough as they weren’t exactly rushing to join my side it seemed.
I could see Scott McElroy’s teeth gettin
g grottier by the second as he chewed on a snickers bar and washed it around with the dregs of his can of red bull. With what looked like a ghastly mixture, he ferociously spat out this combo of filth at me and tossed the empty can at my head. He walked away, leaving me there covered in his grotty little mess.
As he left Benjamin regained consciousness and looked at everyone around us with a look of panic and stupidity. He thought it would be a great idea to add to the misery. “What? Haven’t you ever seen a bloke in a skirt before!”
And my heart sank into my stomach. I know he meant well, but he was a real meathead sometimes, making a bad situation worse. Dad would always say he knew how to turn a wedding quickly into a funeral. And that he did.
The bell rang and everyone rushed off. Benjamin picked up my bag for me and handed me my ‘Playing with Science’ workbook as we walked towards our classroom. He tried cheering me up. “I think we’re going to learn more about the green sleeves effect!” He obviously meant the green lighthouse effect and I don’t think it cheered me up much either. But whatever it’s called, it definitely won’t be the end of the world. No way! Those ice caps have nothing on me!
I sat through the morning reeking of red bull and snickers and tried to hold back tears. Dad said crying made you weak ‒ unless of course Queensland wins the state of Origin in which case crying is apparently a badge of honour.
There was a knock at the door of the classroom and the school guidance counsellor, Liam Burnes, knocked on the door. “Riley Goldsmith?” he said lightly as if he wanted to not draw attention to me. I got up without instruction; I almost expected he’d pay a visit after this morning’s stunt. I put my books back in my desk tray and walked with him to his office. As I walked in he gestured me towards two chairs next to a window and we sat, and I crossed my legs, which was something I’ve never had to worry about in pants. But suddenly in a skirt I didn’t wanna feel too exposed, even though it was a little late for that.
“So how are we travelling today, mate?” Talking to this goofball was almost like talking to Benjamin. I could tell that he was the kind of guy who wore a t-shirt with a Simpson’s picture on it despite never having watched the show. And wore glasses even though he probably didn’t even need them to see better; he probably just got them to look like a trendy coffee-drinker from Fitzroy or something.
“Yeah fine,” I said hoping he’d just get to the point.
“Glad to hear! Now Riley, I just wanted you to know that you have a lot of guts! And that’s what we like to see here at Cooper Hill Primary. I just want you to know you have the full support of all the staff and the entire school community!”
“Support for what?” I said cheekily. This geezer must think I’m running for the local council or something, and even then when Dad did that, he barely got this much of a welcome; they didn’t even give him a parking spot let alone a big welcoming ceremony.
“Riley, mate, as I’m sure you know the school has just changed its uniform policy ‒ allowing girls to wear pants, and more specific to our meeting, allowing boys to wear dresses or skirts. And I just wanted you to know that even though you’ve had a few hiccups today, we plan on making sure we provide a comfortable learning environment for you and all the other gender diverse students in the school.”
Bloody hell. How many times did he prepare that talk in front of the mirror this morning? Should audition for Home and Away with public speaking skills like that. Or at least go on one of those panel shows my dad can’t stomach.
“Yeah, cheers,” I said not knowing what to say, but also desperately wanting to leave. I hoped he wouldn’t ask me to help put up a rainbow flag out by the front gates or anything like that, but given the grin on the idiot’s, face I didn’t think he was far off from offering.
“That’s all I wanted to say, Riley. And mate, you know if ever you wanna talk or hang or anything, you know where to find me.”
“And you know where to find me,” I said half wishing he never finds me ever again.
“Oh and Riley,” he said chasing me out of the hall. "If you want a spare pair of clothes, Mrs Birt in the admin office can probably lend you an extra set of pants.
“Or whatever else you wanted to borrow,” he added cautiously.
I picked up another skirt from the admin office and headed back to class. Benjamin was probably lost without me, he’s useless at science; I mean we both are, but he thinks the Milky way is named after the chocolate bar. I felt a buzz in my pocket and it was the phone Mum bought me a few years back for ‘emergencies’. It was a message from Mum. ‘We need to have a talk when you get home.’
Only one other time have I ever got that message from Mum. It was a year back, when she did night shifts at the hospital and I forgot to tape the MasterChef Finale for her. Went off her nut the next day, so I knew that this message had to be about something serious.
Chapter 2
“Bloody hell, they take our jobs and just sit on the dole all day!” Dad yelled at the TV. Dad seemed to hate pretty much everyone and these dinners in front of the telly were filled with his sermons about right and wrong ‒ from his point of view. I looked over to Mum who unloaded a box of fish fingers onto a tray and shoved them into the oven without even twitching.
“That’s dinner, done,” she muttered to herself.
Mum wasn’t much of a cook; she usually ordered fancy take-out from one of the fancy deli’s at the local shops near where she works. She was a psychologist, which meant she was professionally allowed to nag us every night when we all got home. Dad used to manage a call centre until the company moved overseas. I think that’s why he yelled at the telly so much ‒ he hated people pitying those in countries where they took his job. What do they have to complain about? he’d think.
I heard Rachel in her room upstairs, yapping away on the phone to Simone or Clarice or some other awful friend of hers. Mum had called her twice to come down to set the table, and she’d better get her fat ass down here or else Mum would give up and get me to do it instead. Rachel always got away with doing the bare minimum and never batted an eye when I took on a load of chores for her. Mum did half her school projects for her and Dad always gave her touch footy coach a grilling every time she was benched during a match.
Tonight, I was hoping that Mum would just give me the talking to she’d been stewing up all day that I didn’t really care if I’d have to wash up tonight. I knew she’d want to catch the end of Neighbours and the elimination round of the biggest loser before though. For a woman with brains, she sure knew how to fill it with trash.
After the shows were over and after Rachel and I had fought over the last surviving fish fingers in the bowl, Dad took Rachel to touch footy training ‒ not before getting a roasting from Mum about not buying her McDonalds drive through on the ride home, which I reckon Dad took as a tip not as an instruction.
Tonight, Mum did the washing up, and soon after invited me to sit down with her and watch a few episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond with her, but I think she was trying to stall talking to me.
But that ended soon.
“Riley, my dear. I have something I need to talk to you about.”
I gulped slowly, dreading the lecture. I’m not sure why; she seemed fine with me wearing the skirt this morning. Maybe she changed her mind, or worse maybe Dad said something.
“It’s about Benjamin.”
Mum slowly stirred her tea before continuing. I had no idea where she was going with this. Was he planning on wearing a dress and heels tomorrow or something?
Chapter 3
Benjamin wasn’t gonna be wearing a dress, not surprising either as he was the kind of kid who wore hand-me-down cargo shorts and a hoodie with more holes in it than Mum’s 18 hole golf course. Mum said that Ben’s mum and dad were going away so he was going to stay with us for a few weeks. It seemed strange because usually they took him with them on vacation; he always came back from their yearly trip with an extra few kilos and a sunburn that was redder than Uluru. May
be he was staying with us because his parents didn’t wanna put up with him peeling his burnt skin in the backseat of the car anymore? I know that’d be reason enough for my parents to give me spare change to take the bus.
Rachel rushed in through the door suddenly as she always would, keen to get upstairs and call some of her other mean girls to talk about what boy they all hated but liked at the same time. It was all a bit too muddled for me to understand. Ben would tell me his dad always thought girls were like a kinder surprise. Once you see what’s inside you’re not sure if you’re confused or happy, but you pretend to like it anyway. I don’t think Mum appreciated when he announced that idea at the school year 5 barbecue a couple months back, and he’d have to behave himself if he wanted to stick out a few weeks in our regime.
Dad walked in and had Ben with him; must have picked him up on the way, I suppose that’s why Rachel was extra eager to rush home. “Hey mate!”
Ben had a full suitcase and two Woolworths bags full of toys, DVDs and medications. The kid was sick with everything, I swear. He always had an asthma attack every year at the school cross-country race before he even got through the first lap, and always got rashes and bruises on his arms from allergies, he’d tell me. Poor sod. If only he was allergic to chocolate and Pepsi he might actually be a bit healthier.
We went upstairs and into my room. He plonked his stuff onto the floor and made himself at home immediately. I thought we’d go onto my Dad’s laptop and look at some videos on YouTube. I liked to watch ones about magic or new food ideas; Ben was more into the kind of video where a reporter accidentally gets bonked on the nose by a stray football. I looked up a video I knew he would like of a dog jumping off a school bus, which he found hilarious for some odd reason, but the viewing was cut short by Mum yelling from the bottom of the stairs for us to come down for dinner.
Ben never ate Asian food in his house, so when Mum offered him Pad-Thai he pulled up his shirt assuming it was some kind of vaccination he needed in order to stay in our house. The goose.
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