by Justin Brown
‘Want to know why I wasn’t there on Saturday, loser-boy?’ he whispered. ‘My uncle came first in the Strong Man competition. He lifted four car tyres at once. There was a huge party afterwards and I was the only kid there, so I could eat as many hot dogs as I wanted. But I’ll be back for this weekend’s match.’
I ignored him, because I didn’t need any more trouble.
‘Looking forward to scoring lots of tries this season,’ he continued. ‘All by myself. Maybe I’ll pass to someone else so they can score too, but not you.You’ve already got enough this year.’
I had to say something.
‘I know what you’re doing, McGarvy,’ I hissed. ‘You’re trying to make me angry so I get into trouble. But it’s not going to work, so why don’t you just sit there by yourself and think about all your friends? Oh, that’s right, you haven’t got any!’
Mrs Martin-Edge turned and headed towards us like a truck coming down the main road. The floor bounced and the windows rattled. All the eyes in the class were glued to her. I covered my face and got ready for I-don’t-know-what.
‘Who said that? ’
I turned and pointed at McGarvy. He started it, after all!
‘Don’t be so stupid! It was directed at Malcolm. So who said it?’
McGarvy pointed at me.
‘Toby Gilligan-Flannigan! First you disrupt the class. Now you lie in class. See me afterwards.’ Mrs Martin-Edge clomped back to the board.
My brain tried really hard to tell me not to turn and hit McGarvy as hard as I could, but my gut told me the best thing to do was to turn and hit him as hard as I could. So I did. He fell like Coach’s big bag of rugby balls.
This time everyone else laughed and for three seconds I felt like a hero from a movie. The baddie had been knocked out! He’d fallen off his chair and was lying on the floor looking like a scared baby bird. And I did it!
That’s the good news. The bad news is that in the movies there’s never a teacher like Mrs Martin-Edge. She turned and headed towards us like a Mack truck on the freeway.
McGarvy started crying and clutching his leg.
The classroom was silent except for McGarvy’s sniffing. Hughesy and Jonesy were looking at me as if I’d just dropped the ball on the tryline.
I didn’t feel like a hero anymore.
What if McGarvy had to go to hospital?
What if his uncle drove his digger through my bedroom while I was sleeping?
What would Mum and Dad say?
‘I’m sorry, Miss,’ I said desperately. ‘I really am .. . but he laughed at me. And he spat on my cricket bag! And he dropped the easiest catch when the Wall was batting! And now he’s not going to pass the ball to me so I can’t get tries, and if I can’t get tries I’ll never get the new GameBox V3!’
‘Quiet!’ yelled Mrs Martin-Edge. ‘It’s all déjà vu with you, isn’t it, Toby Gilligan-Flannigan? Do you know what that means?’
‘No, Miss.’
‘You would if you’d been listening earlier instead of acting the fool.’ Mrs Martin-Edge pointed at the strange words on the whiteboard. Then she pointed at Jana Hendriks, who is smarter than all the teachers in our school put together. She’s even smarter than Claire. If their brains were fruit, Jana’s would be a watermelon and Claire’s would be an orange. ‘Jana, would you care to tell Toby what déjà vu means?’
I was hoping Jana would say, ‘Who cares! Let’s go outside and play basketball. Toby is a hero and Malcolm McGarvy should be in jail!’ But instead Jana cleared her throat and said, ‘Déjà vu means we’ve seen it before, or it’s already happened.’
‘Correct!’ said Mrs Martin-Edge. ‘We’ve already seen it. Toby disrupting the class and not doing his homework are perfect examples of déjà vu.’
‘But McGarvy started it! Honest!’
‘Whether or not Malcolm started it is beside the point. You never – and I repeat never – hit anyone in my class.’
‘What about in someone else’s class?’
I knew I shouldn’t have said it, but it just came out. Mrs Martin-Edge’s head turned into an erupting volcano. Her ears were as red as molten lava. Her nostrils went in and out like a bull’s.
‘You’re about to get a whole lot more familiar with the term déjà vu, Toby,’ she said. ‘Because something that has already happened is about to happen again.
’ ‘No,’ I said, because I knew what she was going to say.
‘Yes. No basketball game for you this afternoon.’ ‘But . . . we’re playing the Wasps! I have to play!’
‘Déjà vu.’
McGarvy was smiling like a crocodile. When Mrs Martin-Edge turned to him he screwed up his face and cried as if he had a tap in his head. Whenever she looked away he smiled again.
I felt my head getting hotter. I didn’t feel sorry anymore. I wanted to hit McGarvy harder.
‘Malcolm, go to the sick bay with this pass for Ms Stefanovski,’ said Mrs Martin-Edge. ‘Toby, get the bin and collect all the rubbish on the playground. I want it spotless by lunchtime.’
‘What?’
‘You heard.’ Mrs Martin-Edge turned and walked to her desk. McGarvy moaned and limped like an old granddad all the way to the door.
Hughesy patted me on the back as I got up. ‘That sucks,’ he said.
‘Yeah,’ whispered Jonesy. ‘The CGC will wait for you at HQ.’
Outside, I swore in my head as loud as I could and punched the wall. I punched it so hard I thought my hand was broken. But I didn’t care. Who needs a dumb hand when you’re not allowed to play against the dumb Wasps? Why was Mrs Martin-Edge so dumb? How come McGarvy could do anything he wanted and not get into trouble?
I looked back at our classroom.The blinds were down because it was sunny. At least no one could see me picking up rubbish. That would be the worst thing in the history of the universe.
I got angrier and angrier. Why did I even need school, anyway? All the famous sports stars I know never did homework.They never got told off. And Mrs Martin-Edge might know the capitals of all the countries in the world but she’s never had to tackle Supermarket.
Or kicked a conversion when the wind was in her face.
Or scored five three-pointers in the dark.
She knows nothing!
And her breath smells like cat food!
Anyway, all that dumb thinking was useless because I still had a dumb rubbish bin in my hand and had to pick up rubbish on the dumbest day of the year.
After a whole hour the schoolyard was as clean as a new pair of rugby boots still in the box. I was hot and sweaty. All I wanted was to go home, watch cartoons on TV and eat chips with sauce.
But when I started walking back to class I found McGarvy hiding behind the hedge near the teachers’ car park where you go when you don’t want teachers to know where you are.
‘What do you want?’ he asked when he saw me. ‘What do you want, more like?’ I said.
‘Pwoah!’ he said when he saw my bin. ‘You smell like a dog’s butt!’
‘At least I’m not a real dog’s butt!’
McGarvy spat by my feet and kept playing a game on his phone.
‘That was a dirty trick you played in class,’ I said.
‘Boo-hoo,’ McGarvy replied.
‘Anyway, I thought you were supposed to be in the sick bay. You don’t look very sick to me.’
‘Oh, that?’ he said. ‘Didn’t even hurt. I’m a real man. Might even have a go against the Wasps later. You playing? Oh, that’s right, you’re not allowed !’
This time he was going to get it! I dropped the bin. Rubbish went everywhere. My face got hotter and I started breathing fast. But just as I got ready to turn Malcolm McGarvy into the biggest pile of mashed potatoes, I heard a voice from the classroom steps.
‘Gilligan-Flannigan! Will you get a move on? How long does it take to pick up a bit of rubbish?’
It was Mrs Martin-Edge. I looked at McGarvy.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ he said.
‘You’re going to tell Fartin-Edge that I’m out here when I’m supposed to be in the sick bay.’
He was reading my mind! That’s exactly what I was going to do, because if I told Mrs Martin-Edge that McGarvy was playing games on his phone instead of being sick in the sick bay he’d have to pick up rubbish tomorrow.
‘If you tell her I’m here,’ he said, hiding deeper in the bush, ‘your life will not be worth living.’
‘Okay, I’ll tell your uncle, then.’
‘My uncle won’t care! He got expelled from four schools when he was a kid. He’ll just laugh. I told him about the time I tied your shoelaces together and he thought it was hilarious! But if you get into trouble you’ve got a whole lot to lose.’
‘Like what?’ I asked.
‘Like your stupid little challenge with your dad.’
I still wanted to punch him, but if I did I would be in even more trouble. Was the rugby season going to go bad? Was McGarvy going to ruin everything?
‘Toby!’ Mrs Martin-Edge yelled.‘Get on with it!’
‘Coming, Miss!’ I said. ‘Just found some more rubbish.’ I put all the stinky banana peels and iceblock sticks back in the bin and headed back to the classroom.
McGarvy called after me, ‘I’ll think of you when I’m top scorer against the Wasps.’
Mrs Martin-Edge made me stay behind after school. I had to watch my team play the Wasps from the classroom. McGarvy scored five easy hoops. I got madder and madder. They should have been my hoops.
By the time Mrs Martin-Edge called me over with her crooked finger, I was boiling like the whistling kettle in our kitchen.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘Get your bag. So, have you learnt your lesson?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t start anything. McGarvy was the one who—’
‘Stop the excuses, Toby!’ she yelled. ‘Pull up your socks or you will fail. You will end up with no life, no job, no house, no career and no friends. You will be a big fat failure with a capital F! What’s the matter? Are you crying?’
‘I’ve . .. got something in my eye,’ I said.
I walked out of the classroom. I was angry with a capital A. I needed the CGC, but their game was still going. I couldn’t stay and watch McGarvy score any more hoops, so I walked towards the school gates. To get there I had to walk past the teacher’s car park.
The blue sports car with mags belongs to my favourite teacher Mr Doon. Mr Morris, the art teacher, has a big Kombi van with bright flowers and palm trees painted on it. Mrs Martin-Edge owns a really old car that she tries to make look new. It’s got no mags, no electric windows and there’s a dumb plastic dog with a jiggly head by the back window. It’s the same disgusting colour as the blob of hot green stuff Dad puts on his sushi. There’s a big sticker on the bumper bar that says ‘World’s Coolest Teacher’.
Ha! What a joke!
When I saw Mrs Martin-Edge’s car I got angry all over again. So I made sure no one was looking, took the fat black Posca pen Hughesy lent me yesterday and wrote ‘Smelliest’ in big letters over the top of ‘Coolest’.
Then I picked up the sharpest rock I could find, and I scratched an unsmiley face on the flap where you put the petrol in.
After that I ran home.
8th JULY
I felt bad all night and all morning about Mrs Martin-Edge’s car. I could see it from the classroom window. I tried to look the other way, or think about a Michael Jordan move, but I couldn’t help looking at the unsmiley face on the petrol flap. It seemed to get bigger and bigger. Mrs Martin-Edge looked extra grumpy, but I didn’t know if it was normal grumpy or Toby-is-in-a-world-of-trouble-grumpy.
The other weird thing was that I couldn’t see McGarvy anywhere.
But then the weirdest thing happened. It was lunchtime and I was shooting hoops with Ravi Patel when the CGC came over. Jonesy looked as if he had just seen an alien.
‘Did you hear about McGarvy?’ he asked. ‘What he did to Martin-Edge’s Volvo?’
‘No,’ I said, feeling sick. ‘What?’
‘He scratched a frowny face on it with his shark tooth!’ said Hughesy.
‘You’re kidding,’ I said in my best surprised voice. ‘When?’
‘Yesterday,’ said Jonesy. ‘It was when McGarvy was supposed to be in sick bay – after he fell off his chair.’
‘Fell off?’ said Hughesy. ‘More like Toby smashed him off!’
‘Yeah,’ said Jonesy. ‘What a shot that was!’
‘But I don’t get it,’ I said. ‘I mean, how do they know it was McGarvy?’
‘Because Mr Morris saw him standing near Martin-Edge’s car during class and Ms Stefanoski said he never went to the sick bay!’
‘But he might have just been standing around,’ I said. ‘How do they know for sure?’
‘Hello!’ Jonesy knocked on my head as if it was a door. ‘Because there’s a frowny face scratched into the car and McGarvy is the only one in school with a shark-tooth pendant!’
‘Hilarious, eh?’ said Hughesy. ‘That muppet is going to get what he deserves. Acting like a cry-baby in class and getting you in trouble.You know what they call this? Karma!
’ ‘Karma?’ asked Jonesy. ‘What’s that?’
‘Kind of like if you do good things, good things will happen to you. If you do bad things, like McGarvy, look out!’
‘Karma,’ said Jonesy. ‘I like that. This was Mrs Martin-Edge’s car-ma!’
‘So what’s happened to McGarvy now?’ I asked.
‘He’s been suspended!’
A light bulb went off in my head at exactly the same time as a chill went down my spine. ‘Is that why he wasn’t in class this morning?’
‘Boom!’ said Hughesy. ‘You got it!’
‘But if he did that yesterday, how come he was allowed to play against the Wasps after school last night?’
‘Because Martin-Edge only noticed it this morning! What’s your problem, Toby, you should be happy! McGarvy is on suspension. For three days.’
‘Yeah,’ I lied. ‘I am happy. It’s . . . really good news.’
‘Shot!’ said Jonesy.
He and Hughesy laughed but I wanted to be sick.
10th JULY
I wasn’t going to say anything about today’s game because it stunk like a skunk, but then I remembered what Michael Jordan said. ‘I’ve failed over and over again in my life which is why I succeed.’ That’s cool and everything, but Michael Jordan never had to worry about Mrs Martin-Edge’s scratched car or Goober Boy.
Speaking of McGarvy, before we started the match Joe Draper asked where he was, so Hughesy told him and they laughed like hyenas who had sucked too many helium balloons. Hearing this made me drop the ball every time I saw it. Jonesy called me Butter Fingers. Coach said I couldn’t catch a cold.
Then, it was raining so hard and I thought I had scored a try, but when I wiped the water from my eyes I realised I was lying on the 22.
Fail.
Grandma is in hospital. Her legs are really bad. She can’t even walk around her shop.
Dad and I went to visit her after the game. She was in a big white room with no doors, just curtains, and a lot of people with white coats and super-serious faces.The whole room smelt like the stuff Mum cleans the bath with.
‘Here they are!’ said Grandma. ‘Good timing! I need ice-cream.’
‘No way!’ said Dad, putting fresh flowers in a vase by her side. ‘You’ve got to stick to a strict diet now more than ever.’
‘Poppycock!’ said Grandma. ‘Rules are made to be broken.’
‘This is your health we’re talking about,’ said Dad.
‘Be like that.’ Grandma winked at me. ‘Toby’ll get me a double scoop with choc topping when you’re not looking.’
Dad gave me a look that said If you get Grandma a double scoop with choc topping you’re dead meat.
‘Dad’s right,’ I said to Grandma. But then I winked at her and she knew what that meant.
A nurse came in and did horribl
e things to Grandma. She stuck a needle into her. It made Grandma cry. She looked away because she didn’t want us to see.
I wish real life was more like sport.
In sport, even if you miss a kick everything is okay in the end.You sometimes even get injured, but then you play the next Saturday and win and Coach buys everyone hot chips. In real life people like Granddad die and it doesn’t matter how many runs I score or how many tries I get, he won’t be coming back.
What if Grandma has to live in the hospital? What if she never gets to watch old movies in her shop again? Or what if she dies like Granddad did? No one will even notice because she’s not famous like David Beckham. They won’t do a minute’s silence before the next international football game, because Dad and I will be the only ones in the crowd who knew who she was. And what about all the things she’ll miss out on? Like, when I do play for my country she won’t be here to see it!
I wanted to say all of this stuff to Grandma, but I didn’t because it might worry her too much.
When Dad went to the hospital shop I told her I scratched Mrs Martin-Edge’s car. Then I told her about McGarvy getting the blame.
Grandma put on a super-serious face. ‘I think you should own up to Mrs Martin-Edge.’
‘What? Grandma, she’s the fiercest teacher ever. I can’t!’
‘But Toby, you can’t expect someone else to pay for your mistake! That’s almost the same as lying, and you don’t want to go down that path again.’ Grandma took a deep breath. ‘If I were you—’
But just as she was about to tell me what she would do, Dad came back with apples and bananas and magazines.
‘Rabbit food!’ said Grandma. ‘Where’s the ice-cream with chocolate topping?’
While Dad and Grandma whispered in long hospital words, I wondered what McGarvy would do if he found out it was me who got him into trouble.
On the way home in the car I cracked my knuckles. When Dad asked me what was wrong I said I was worried about Grandma, which was true, but I was really thinking more about Mrs Martin-Edge and about McGarvy and all the horrible things they might do to me.
12th JULY