“Rachel, come downstairs and have your milkshake!” Dad yelled like he was rounding up troops for battle, a joke he usually made which I often ignored. Rachel didn’t eat much for breakfast, so Mum and Dad figured if she eats a muffin or has a milkshake than they’ve done the best they can.
“Don’t forget to give Mr Symonds your permission note for Music A-viva! Oh and Ken please don’t forget to pick him up from the front gate as the oval entrance will be chock-a-block by 4pm!” Mum instructed as she raced out the door with a thermos of coffee and iPad holstered in the other.
Before I knew it we were all ordered to the Suzuki and made our way off to the carnival. Rachel was just dressed in normal school uniform because she was feeling sick after the Chinese food that Mum brought home last night and was hoping to get to go home early today. Fat chance, I thought.
As we got out of the car, Rachel hobbled off and left me to fend for myself. I walked through up to the school oval and my eyes lit up with pride. The marquee was up, the different events set up for shot put, long jump, high jump and tug-of-war all in the middle of the oval with the running track on the outside. Miss Walker had designed it all to fit without getting too cramped and done a pretty bloody good job. Scott might have thought she was trying to brainwash the school and I was thinking who cares; she’s clearly got her head glued on right.
As I sat on the grass in an area with my school house, none of the other boys wanted to talk to me all that much, which didn’t surprise me. That had been the same the past few weeks. Since we started the ‘safe in the schoolyard’ program at school a few weeks back, only a few of us were now wearing the purple badges they gave us, and Miss Walker didn’t wear her rainbow one anymore as she was nervous about what the kids and their parents were saying about her. Stuff ’em, I’d say. With all my thoughts running wild this morning, I’d suddenly realised I hadn’t seen Benjamin yet. With his Mum gone he may be running a little late as I knew his dad was struggling a bit keeping up given he was doing it on his own. But when I finally saw him I had a feeling he wasn’t running late, he was preparing for something ‒ that surprise he’d been brewing for a few weeks. I had completely forgotten about it honestly but was wondering what he was doing, a prank of some sort or some kind of flash mob or something. I was wrong though; it was something much simpler and a hundred times more impressive. Something I’d briefly joked about when he first stayed at our house a few weeks back, and something I’d thought might be good for him after I spoke to the Reverend at his mother’s funeral. But again I thought it was too crazy to be possible.
It was Benjamin walking up the oval towards me, red shirt on, rainbow badge pinned on. Badly, but still hanging on. And a big, bold and beautiful blue skirt!
The whole school turned to him and every jaw dropped one by one, like some kind of stunned Mexican wave.
I immediately thought of the advice I gave him when Louie Dixon farted in PE. Anything embarrassing you do makes you a laughing stock for a week or two, and then someone comes along and does something even more ridiculous. Benjamin was wearing the school skirt, but not just any skirt ‒ I saw the stain on the skirt. It was Rachel’s, the one that I wore a few weeks back when Scott McElroy spat on it and I chucked it. He must’ve taken it from the spare clothes bin. And the rainbow badge he must have taken from when Miss Walker tossed hers away.
He came up to me with a big grin on his face,
“You surprised?” To which I nodded to like I was one of those bobbly-head toys Mum had on the dashboard of her car.
Benjamin looked like he had perked up quite a bit.
“What’s this about?” I said wondering why he’d stoop to the bottom of the barrel where I was.
“You’ve been sticking up for me this past few weeks. Today I’m sticking with you!”
I could see Scott McElroy glaring at us from his seat and picking at his teeth, hoping that would freak me out, which it kinda did.
But today I blocked that out; today was just for me and my best mate.
“Come on mate, let’s get ready for the three-legged race!”
We went up to the table where Miss Walker was giving everyone a stocking and a number to pin, and when she saw us she gave us an awesome grin.
“You boys look like winners to me!” she said as she handed us a stocking. “Go get ’em!” she winked at us and we went to the starting line.
“Now Mum used to tell me the key to winning is to start with outer feet first, then the ones tied together!” Benjamin was giving me instructions that I wouldn’t dare ignore, and we went to the starting line.
“You ready, buddy?” he said with a shaky voice, with sweat starting to drip from his forehead.
“Sure am, mate!”
The gun went off and we went off for a ripper start. Out, in, out, in Benjamin was yelling as we soared our way pass the other kids and suddenly we were colliding with the tape. We’d won. There wasn’t much of an applause; no one came to drench us with a tub of Gatorade like they do in the movies, and no one lifted us up onto their shoulders, but Mr Symonds handed us both a blue ribbon and patted us on the back at the finish line, and Benjamin took his with pride even though he was mostly trying not to have another asthma attack. And right about now, nothing could beat this moment. The only thing that could’ve come close was the raffle that was presented to me by Miss Walker ‒ turned out Mum did buy all the tickets in the booklet!
Chapter 16
Finally it was the last day of term, the last morning drop off for a couple of weeks. Benjamin and I spent the morning back at our usual spot by the canteen, making a list of all the movies we would see over the break, and we weren’t interrupted by Scott McElroy one bit. With the ‘safe living’ program having gone on for a month or so now, kids were becoming used to me wearing the skirt, and some of the girls were wearing shorts and a shirt instead of a dress or skirt as well.
Benjamin was doing well considering that his mum was no longer around. He and I had organised with Liam to organise a sausage sizzle to raise money for people with depression, and he was going to youth group every week, meeting more people, not just hanging with his crazy mate in the skirt. I hadn’t gone along with him just yet, but I might down the track; who knows.
Benjamin got up to go to the canteen to get a Ribena and after that Mr Symonds came up to me and knelt down.
“He seems to be getting along alright. Any plans for the holidays? Gonna eventually do my greenhouse effect project?” he said with a cheeky tone that suggested I probably should have done the project, but he was gonna make an exception.
“Nah nothing too major. Just gonna muck around a bit.”
The bell rang and interrupted us, so I sprung from my seat and headed for class.
“Take care of yourself, kiddo.” He then looked over to Benjamin, who was busy squirting himself with Ribena from the popper.
My Symonds smiled. “And keep an eye on him too.”
I nodded and went on my way, and Benjamin came stomping over licking his hands hoping that would make his hands that were covered in Ribena feel less sticky. I kept thinking about what Mr Symonds had said, wanting me to keep an eye on Benjamin. I feel like I’d spent our lives doing that, ever since our mums would take us to Gymbaroo when we were little kids and I supported him on the mini balance-beam. But what Mr Symonds didn’t know was that Benjamin supported me too. Not from falling flat on my face, but I think turning up in a stained smelly skirt to your athletics carnival when you’re there to impress your PE teacher is pretty awesome.
Speaking of which, Miss Walker was passing through the corridor and was out the door, not before giving me and Benjamin a wink, one of those ‘keep out of trouble boys’ winks. Though I’m sure Benjamin still took it the other way even though he didn’t have a chance with her. Since the athletics carnival, other kids had been wearing skirts to school, and Scott McElroy hadn’t been giving anyone any hassle either, which was probably why Miss Walker felt better about coming into class.
Suddenly
I got interrupted.
“Hey buddy!” It was Liam the guidance counsellor, who looked chirpier than ever with a new pair of patterned glasses on.
I groaned as I was hardly keen to chat knowing that the holidays were calling for me just outside the front gate.
“Got time for a quick chat?” I nodded knowing that at least it might mean he is off my back when school returns next term, but I was hoping for more kids to have issues so that this dude could finally leave me alone.
I walked into his office for the last time and we sat down. We did the usual thing of talking about ‘how things are going’ and whether or not Benjamin was coping ok with losing his mum. But eventually we tired of all topics and I got up to leave. Until then it happened, Liam actually asked me something that made sense, probably the best question he ever asked me. “Hey mate?”
“Yeah?” I said fearfully.
“Can I ask, why you do wear a skirt?”
I was thinking of all the things he expected me to say, and all the things I thought he might want to hear. But I went with the truth.
“Yeah,” I said, “it’s too bloody hot these days. Bloody climate change!”
I smiled and walked out the door, and Liam laughed but also looked stunned at the suggestion that I wasn’t some kind of trendsetter. I was just boiling!
I saw Benjamin outside by the front gate scratching an itch on his bum and we waited for Dad. We saw Dad pull up in a hurry and honked the horn so that he wouldn’t need to do any more laps of the school. Benjamin and I jumped in the back.
“Thanks for being on time. We need to get Rachel to Hockey and your Mum’s not in tonight she’s going to some night class at the university or something.”
Things seemed to have gone back to normal for now. Dad was moody and bored rabbiting on about how we, and the world, didn’t appreciate him, but then again I think he liked staying at home now. Mum was busy and had no time for us but still loved us, and now that winter was here I was back to wearing long pants. Eventually, summer would come again and who knows, maybe I’ll wear a skirt again. Maybe I won’t, maybe Benjamin will. And who cares! After all, it’s not like it’ll be the end of the world.
A Uniform Approach Page 6