Head Kid
Page 14
Dionna and Ryan looked at each other.
“I suppose we did!” said Ryan.
“Hey!” said Dionna, raising her palm.
“High-five? Bit normo.”
“Do it.”
He slapped her palm, smiling.
“On which note,” said Mr Carter, “this school needs a head pupil. We haven’t had one before. Most schools do and I was wondering if maybe … you …?”
“Well,” said Ryan. “It’s been an amazing journey for me, the naughtiest boy in the school. But, hey … yes, Mr Carter – I’d be happy to. I’d be happy to be head boy.”
Mr Carter nodded. And then said, “Not you, you big wally. Dionna! Of course. I’m offering her head girl!”
“You are?” said Dionna.
“You are?” said Ryan.
Mr Carter nodded. Dionna smiled.
“Hey! Yes! Thank you. Why not?”
“Why not indeed, Dionna!”
“Wow,” said Ryan a little sheepishly. “Head kid! Cool.”
She looked out of the window. Parents had started arriving to pick up their children. “Can I go and tell my mum? I think she’ll be really proud.”
“Of course!”
And she ran back out to the playground. Mr Carter and Ryan looked at each other for a moment. Then Mr Carter burst out laughing, a big pointed “HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!”
“You, my friend, just got pranked! You are SO lame! You are one dank meme!”
Now it was Ryan’s turn to smile. “Good one. Not as good as your onstage cake-mix prank, obviously.”
“Yes, that was amazing!”
“Top drawer. Getting the containers up there must have been tough.”
“It was. But I was committed.”
“You were. But I gotta say, you had me with that head-boy thing.” He pointed an index finger at Mr Carter and said, “Keep pranking, bro. One day you might be at my level!”
And then he turned to go out into the playground.
“Ryan!” said Mr Carter.
Ryan turned back.
“Just one more one-more thing.” Mr Carter reached out a hand. For a second, Ryan was a bit worried – was he going to slap him? Was he still annoyed? But then he grabbed hold of Ryan’s tie, dangling two buttons down his neck as ever, not properly tied.
“Here,” he said, and pulled it tight up to Ryan’s collar. Mr Carter stood back and admired his handiwork. “At last,” he said.
Ryan felt his tie, made a whatevs face and looked up. “OK, sure,” he said. “But I think this –” he reached out and pulled Mr Carter’s tie down a notch so it hung loosely on him for once – “might now suit you a bit better!”
Mr Carter smiled. He glanced into the mirror above the fireplace – the same one Mr Barrington had looked at to try to work out the words on his forehead a little while ago – and said, “You know what, Ryan? I think you might be right!”
Ryan nodded. Then he turned and ran out towards the playground.
Mr Carter watched him go, dodging all the footballers and fights and hopscotches and hand-held video-gaming and climbing of climbing frames going on, towards his mum. Tina Ward, in fact, saw Mr Carter looking out from his window, and waved and smiled at him in a friendly way. He waved back, remembering something from when he was Ryan, already becoming a little dim in his memory, what she’d said about wanting him to tell her something real about himself: about Mr Carter, that is. About what he was like as a person.
Maybe, he thought, I’ll try and do that tomorrow.
But for now he had things to do. He had to sort out tomorrow’s assembly, to check on the supply-teacher availabilities, to organise a meeting of the board of governors and, indeed, to write an announcement celebrating the school’s new OFFHEAD rating.
Just before he sat down at his computer to type, though, he noticed something on his desk. And he remembered what Ryan had just said before leaving his office.
Keep pranking, bro.
He picked up the object from the desk.
He knew exactly what to do.
Coda
“BELINDA! THANK YOU FOR COMING INTO MY OFFICE! I WANTED TO SHOW YOU THIS!”
“What is it, Mrs Valentine-Fine OBE?”
“IT JUST ARRIVED TODAY FROM THAT TERRIBLE MR CARTER MAN AT THAT AWFUL BRACKET WOOD PLACE. I SUPPOSE IT MIGHT BE SOME KIND OF PEACE OFFERING. SOME WAY OF SAYING SORRY.”
“Yes, I suppose it might. It’s a box, is it?”
“YES, WITH SOME KIND OF ARROW DESIGN ON IT! RATHER BEAUTIFUL, CERTAINLY, COMING FROM THAT PLACE.”
“It’s a musical box, I think. Can’t find the key. Hmm. Let me give it a bit of a bang down on the desk.”
“ALL RIGHT. HMM. I SUPPOSE THAT IS QUITE A NICE TU—”
Thanks to:
Nick Lake – the man at the editorial coal face.
Ann-Janine Murtagh – the woman who got me into writing books for children, and who continues to fire me up to write more.
Steven Lenton – my new amazing illustrator.
Georgia Garrett – my always amazing agent.
Morwenna Banks – for everything, as ever, but specifically for some great story suggestions on this one.
Tanya Hougham – audio book above and beyond-er.
David McDougall and Elorine Grant – design maestros.
Sam Stewart – corrector of errors.
And everyone else at HarperCollins who helps to make these books and get them out into the world.
Sam Green is really, really, really, really, really, really, really looking forward to his eleventh birthday. Really.
He can’t wait. In fact, he wishes it was his birthday every day.
So it’s quite exciting, at first, when his birthday happens again the next morning. And again. And again.
But sometimes you have to be careful what you wish for …
Click on the cover to read more.
Malcolm doesn’t like animals. Which is a problem because his family love them. Their house is full of pets. What the house is NOT full of is stuff Malcolm likes. Such as the laptop he wanted for his birthday.
The only bright spot on the horizon is the Year Six school trip to … Oh no. A farm.
Over the next few days, Malcolm changes. He learns what it’s really like to be an animal. A whole series of animals, in fact …
Click on the cover to read more.
Fred and Ellie are twins. But not identical (because that’s impossible for a boy and a girl). They do like all the same things, though. Especially video games. Which they are very good at. They aren’t that good, however, at much else – like, for example, football, or dealing with the school bullies.
Then they meet Mystery Man, who sends them a video-game controller, which doesn’t look like any other controller they’ve ever seen. And it doesn’t control any of their usual games …
Click on the cover to read more.
Barry Bennett hates being called Barry. In fact, it’s number two on the list of things he blames his parents for, after number one: being boring.
But there is a world where parents don’t just have children. That’s far too random. Instead, children are allowed to choose their parents.
For Barry Bennett, this world seems like a dream come true. Only things turn out to be not quite that simple …
Click on the cover to read more.
Books by David Baddiel
ANIMALCOLM
BIRTHDAY BOY
HEAD KID
THE PARENT AGENCY
THE PERSON CONTROLLER
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