Deirdre adjusted her driving-mirror so that she could see his face. Her steely blue eyes bored into his. ‘Adam, you – have – to – go – to – school!’ She spoke slowly and clearly, as if he didn’t understand English. ‘Now, stop your nonsense!’ she said in her normal voice. Then she moved the mirror back and turned on the radio. She began to sing along with it.
Adam gave up. That was that.
He sighed and sat back in his seat. They were stopped at the traffic lights. He turned his head to look out the window. High up on a wire was a small, scruffy-looking bird. As Adam looked, the bird turned its head and seemed to look right down into the car.
Then the lights changed and the car moved off. The bird took off too. Adam tried to see where it went, but they passed under a footbridge and he lost sight of it.
They stopped again near the turn-off for the shopping centre. Adam was looking out the window at a circus poster when he saw the same little bird land on the signpost. It had to be the same bird – the gusts of wind caught its feathers, giving it that scruffy look it had had on the wire. Now that he was closer, Adam could see that the bird was greenish-black, with speckles. It looked cheeky and dishevelled, as if it were saying, ‘Well, the others may want to waste time preening and washing, but not me. That’s a mug’s game!’
The little bird cocked its head, looked right into the car at Adam – and winked!
When the car pulled up in front of the school gates, Adam saw Rory and Shane running in ahead of him. They were usually late, so that meant he was even later. He grabbed his bag and pushed the front seat forward.
‘Go on, love!’ said his mam as he hesitated. ‘It’ll be fine. Hurry up – you’re late.’ She gave him a quick kiss and banged the passenger door shut.
‘See you later!’ called Adam as he ran in the gates and up the path. He began the Prayer for Late Mornings. Don’t let them have gone into the hall already! Please don’t let Assembly have started! There was nothing worse than going into the hall when all the kids were already there, standing in their lines, messing and talking, looking at everyone coming in. Some of the sixth class even slagged any teacher who was late in. ‘Ooh! Did you sleep it out, Miss? Very naughty! You should go to bed earlier!’
Adam’s prayer worked. His class had only begun to get into a line at the door of the classroom, so he hung up his jacket, dumped his bag at his desk and quickly got into line.
‘Hiya, Adam!’ said his friend Niamh, turning and flashing him a grin as he lined up behind her. Niamh had long brown hair, which she wore in plaits – she had the longest plaits of all the girls in fourth class. She was tall for her age and could be friendly or fierce, depending on how much she liked you.
Rory was ahead of them in the line. He turned round and gave Adam a push. Adam stumbled out of line, caught off balance.
‘Hey!’ exclaimed Adam.
‘Get into line, Adam,’ jeered Rory. ‘You’re last! Too busy kissing your Mammy? Bye, Mammy!’ he mimicked. A few of the others joined in the laughter.
Adam sighed and rejoined the line, saying nothing. Now he really did have a pain in his stomach.
In Assembly they sang a song about winter weather and frosty mornings. The little ones loved it and did all the actions; Adam smiled to see them jumping around and rubbing their hands. Then the principal spoke for a while about football practice and something to do with a swimming gala that was coming up. Adam wasn’t really listening until she started on about staying in at break. Some of the kids had been saying they had colds and weren’t allowed out. From now on, you would only be allowed to stay in if you were sick – and even then, you needed a note. Adam felt the swirling sickness in his stomach begin for real at the mention of break.
He was getting to hate that word. Break was the worst time of all – half an hour outside, with all the shoving and pushing and jeering. It wouldn’t be too bad if the grass was dry enough for soccer; then Shane and PJ and Rory would forget about him and play football. Or maybe, even better, it would pour rain and they’d have to stay inside. The teachers would stay in too, and your chances of survival improved distinctly if the teacher was in the room.
It’s really cloudy, Adam tried to convince himself. He thought about the grey clouds he’d seen on his way to school. Yeah – it’ll definitely be raining by break. He saw in his mind’s eye the hills, the grey clouds and, in front, the telegraph wires with the starling – the starling that had winked at him.
The thought of the bird’s inky-black eyes and scruffy feathers made Adam smile. He followed the rest of the line as they jostled and shoved their way back to class, a small smile still at the corner of his mouth.
During the morning, Adam groaned inwardly as he watched the grey sky begin to clear. By break-time, it looked fairly certain that they’d be going outside.
Adam tried to remember what his dad had said about the teasing. ‘They’re only trying to get a chase off you and annoy you, Adam. Tell them to get lost!’ Then he’d leaned towards Adam’s ear and whispered, ‘Or, better still, trip them up when no one’s looking!’
‘Ah, Jim! For God’s sake!’ Mam had overheard.
‘Do you know what, Adam?’ Dad had said with a grin. ‘Your mother has supernatural hearing. She’s got ears like a hawk. Well, like a hawk’s eyes.’ He had put his arm around her then, but Deirdre was having none of it. She clicked her tongue irritably at her husband.
‘They have to tell the teacher nowadays, Jim. They can’t just trip up the other lad. Adam will be in worse trouble if he does that.’ She’d turned to Adam, lifting his chin between her cool fingers so that he looked at her. ‘Adam, you have to tell them to leave you alone, and then don’t mind them. They’re only kids.’
They’re only kids. Adam kept repeating the thought as the back door was opened and the screaming children surged outside for break. He decided to go round by the Infants’ yard; his friends Niamh and Conor often went there to talk. Adam stuffed his half-eaten sandwich in the bin and headed down the path towards the yard.
What he hadn’t seen, though, was PJ running ahead and lurking behind a wall, just out of sight. As Adam turned the corner, he felt a sharp kick to his ankle, followed by a shove. He lost his balance and fell forwards, breaking his fall by grabbing the jacket of a small boy in front of him. Thomas, who was only four, and Adam, who was a medium-sized nine, tumbled in a heap on the hard tarmac.
PJ snorted with laughter and looked around for the teacher on duty. Spying her a few metres away, he shouted loudly in her direction: ‘Adam! Adam! Get off Thomas. Stop pulling him down!’
The teacher heard the commotion and turned to see what was going on. Adam was struggling to get up, but from a distance it looked very different.
‘Miss! Miss!’ yelled PJ again. The teacher began walking briskly over to them.
‘Miss,’ PJ said eagerly. ‘Thomas was only standing there, doing nothing wrong, and Adam came running round the corner and knocked him on the ground! Then he reefed his jacket!’ He paused to let this sink in. ‘For no reason!’ he added in triumph.
The teacher stood surveying the crime scene. Thomas was trying hard not to cry. He looked up at Adam with watery eyes, then noticed the large rip in his coat. ‘Waah!’ he began to wail. ‘Me ma will kill me! That jacket was only new … Waah!’
PJ leaned against the wall. He was really enjoying this.
‘Adam Smith! How do you explain this?’ the teacher snapped. ‘Never mind, Thomas, we’ll get it sorted.’ She took Thomas’s hand. ‘Well, Adam?’
Adam stood up, feeling his cheeks flush, and began: ‘Eh, I was only going around the c-corner and then h-he –’
‘Look,’ interrupted the teacher crossly, ‘maybe it was an accident, but you should be more careful!’ She examined the tear in the jacket and continued, ‘You’ll have to take Thomas’s jacket home tonight and get your mum to help you sew it up. And be sure to tell her that it was you who tore it!’ she finished. She marched off, with Thomas in tow.
<
br /> ‘Yeah! That’s r-r-right, Adam. You’re a very bold boy,’ sneered Rory, who had slunk out from behind a tree to join them. ‘Isn’t he, PJ?’
PJ nodded vigorously, eyes fixed on his hero, Rory.
‘And what do we do with bold boys?’ prompted Rory.
‘Oh, yeah!’ PJ understood: he curled his fist tight and gave Adam a quick, hard punch on the shoulder. It hit the nerve, as it was meant to, and gave Adam a dead arm.
‘Yeah,’ grinned PJ. ‘We’ll tell on you, Adam. We’ll tell your ma just how bad you are! You’ll be dead when she hears she has to fix that coat!’
They ran off, sniggering.
3
STARLINGS
Adam sat at his desk, rubbing the bruise on his shoulder and staring out the window. He could see the soccer pitch and half of the playground. Down on the tarmac, there were seagulls swooping and flapping as they fought over the crusts, broken biscuits and mashed crisps that, as always, littered the playground when the children had gone in. Beside Adam’s window there were what seemed like hundreds of small brown birds, pecking at the grass. Chirps and tweeting sounds made their way through the dusty glass and into the silent classroom. They reminded Adam of Birdy, in the home with Grandad.
Adam was gazing idly at the birds, wondering why the seagulls never came up this close to the window, when he realised that these birds were the same as his bird – the one he’d seen on his way to school. They seemed a bit bigger and smoother-looking, but they were definitely the same kind.
‘Excuse me, Miss,’ began Adam. He could have kicked himself. Why on earth had he started this?
Miss Hill turned, smiling. ‘Yes, Adam?’
It was very quiet in the classroom. Miss Hill waited for him to continue.
‘Um, I was just wondering …’ He paused, hating the silence in the room.
‘Yes?’
‘Wondering what you c-call those birds …’ Adam trailed off lamely. By now, everyone was looking at him and then at each other, sniggering. A sudden flush of heat came to his face and neck. He looked down at his copybook. ‘Nothing,’ he muttered.
‘It’s all right, Adam,’ said Miss Hill, coming over to his desk. She stood behind him and gave his head a quick pat as she leaned over to look out the window. ‘You were asking about those birds? Those are starlings. They’re very common, and they probably have nests in the eaves of the school building.’
‘What are they eating?’ asked Niamh.
‘Well, does anyone think they could answer that?’ Miss Hill asked.
‘Yeah, I know, Teacher,’ interrupted Rory. ‘They’re looking for nuts and Adam’s the biggest nut they could find.’ There was a general laugh from the back of the classroom.
‘That’s enough, Rory!’ snapped Miss Hill sharply. ‘They’re eating grass seed, probably, as some new grass was put down a few days ago. Now, perhaps we could all get on with our work, please. Especially you, Rory!’ She turned on her heel and walked back to her desk. Rory Brennan was an awful pain at times. Sometimes Miss Hill wished she could answer for Adam and tell Rory to shut up.
‘STARLING,’ Adam wrote on his copy. Then again, ‘starling,’ in joined writing. It’s a nice word, he thought – a nice name for a bird.
He remembered how Grandad, before he was sick, had loved feeding the birds in the park near where he lived. He and Adam would take a big bag of bread and dole it out at the side of the river – some for the ducks and the timid moorhens, some flung into the air for the greedy seagulls to catch in mid-flight, some crumbled onto the dusty path near the bushes for the thrushes, blue-tits and blackbirds. Nana would be furious when they got back – Granddad was meant to use only stale bread, but he usually took whatever he could find. ‘Lord Bountiful!’ she’d snort, before adding more gently, ‘Well, at least you’ve a good heart.’
Adam decided that the next time he visited the hospital, he’d tell Grandad about the starling. Maybe Birdy knew how to make starling noises …
Suddenly he felt the jab of a pointy elbow in his ribs. ‘Get on with your work,’ hissed Niamh urgently. ‘Miss Hill’s watching you!’
‘Okay. Thanks,’ whispered Adam, going back to the question he’d been on.
At second break, when most of the boys were playing football, Adam made his way down onto the tarmac and sat on a low bench, facing the school building. He could see the eaves, where the wall and roof of the school met. A strip of wood ran right along there and when he looked closely, Adam could see smallish holes here and there in the wood. As he watched, a starling flew right into one of the holes and disappeared. A few moments later, another darted out from a hole further along.
All through break, Adam sat watching the comings and goings of the little birds. He’d never noticed them before. He couldn’t believe how quickly they darted in and out of the eaves.
When the bell rang, the children lined up with all the usual shoving, jostling and pushing. Even before they had left the yard, some of the braver seagulls were swooping to snatch crusts left lying on the tarmac.
Adam moved in the line, heading towards the back door of the school, still watching the starlings. As he passed the eaves, a small movement caught his eye. The little scruffy starling was back, perched on the edge of the gutter, looking down at Adam. Something about the angle of his tiny head made it look as though he was asking a question.
Adam put his hand in his pocket and brought out the remains of a biscuit. He quickly crumbled it and dropped the gritty pieces on the ground. He kept on walking with the others, but just before the line turned the corner he looked back. The starling had flown down and was pecking daintily at the unexpected feast. Adam grinned and went inside.
At home-time, Danny had come right up to the school gates; he was leaning there with his head back, enjoying a weak ray of winter sunshine. He caught Adam’s eye and smiled.
‘Yo! Adam!’ he called. ‘I thought I’d come up to the gate today and see your pals.’ He strode over to Adam. ‘See if the kids are friendly round here,’ he continued. ‘I wouldn’t want anyone giving my cuz a hard time …’ He scanned the faces of the kids as they raced out of the gates. ‘Where are the ones that threw the milk at you? Do you want me to talk to them?’
Adam panicked. That would only make things worse. ‘No! I’m fine!’ he hissed, looking at the ground. ‘Leave it.’
‘No prob,’ said Danny. ‘But if you change your mind, or if they’re annoying you again, you just tell me. I’ll sort it.’ He punched Adam’s shoulder playfully. ‘Danny the Terminator, that’s me!’
‘Thanks,’ said Adam. It was tempting, but only in a fairy-story sort of way: your big cousin comes along and scares the living daylights out of the bullies, they go running off and never come back … Adam knew things didn’t happen like that. He didn’t want Danny to do anything. He knew that Rory would just get him later, when Danny wasn’t around. Which was all day in school.
‘Thanks,’ Adam repeated, ‘but no thanks.’ He decided to change the subject. ‘I’m starving. Can we go up to the diner?’
Most evenings Danny worked in an American-style diner with red plastic-covered booths and a mini-jukebox at each table. He and Adam often called in there in the afternoon, to scrounge some food. They headed up there now.
As the boys went in the door, a smiling girl with short blond hair looked up from the table she’d been wiping.
Danny struck his chest and dropped to his knees on the black-and-white-chequered floor. ‘What a vision of loveliness! What beauty!’ He turned to Adam. ‘Did you ever spy such a maiden fair?’
The lovely maiden flung the wet dishcloth at her beloved. ‘Shut up, you big eejit!’ She grinned at Adam. ‘Hiya.’
‘Hi,’ Adam replied, sitting down on one of the plastic seats.
‘We are here to dine, lovely Linda,’ continued Danny, getting up off the floor and hopping in behind the tall counter. He peered through the hatch that connected the service area to the kitchen. ‘Is your man around?’
Linda shook her head. The boss was a nice enough guy, but he wouldn’t want Danny and Adam hanging around clogging up the diner.
‘Brill!’ exclaimed Danny, licking his lips. ‘Any chance of some grub, then, my lovely? Please?’
Linda sighed. Danny decided on a different tack.
‘Ah, come on, Linda!’ he whined. ‘D’ya mean to tell me there isn’t a scrap of burger, or even the thinnest little slivers of a few chips, left for my poor starving little cousin?’ He jerked his thumb in Adam’s direction. ‘Look at the state of the little fella! At school all day on his own. And no mammy there to mind him when he comes home.’ He grabbed Linda by the waist and swung her round to face Adam. ‘Go on!’ he hissed at Adam. ‘Look cute and hungry!’
Adam rolled his eyes and clutched his stomach.
‘Ah, for Pete’s sake!’ Linda burst out laughing. ‘Okay, okay! I’ll give you a burger. Just don’t roll your eyes like that, Adam! You look sick, not hungry!’
Linda handed the boys two burgers and shoved them out the door. ‘What time are you in later?’ she asked Danny, as they headed out.
‘Seven o’clock, dearest!’ he replied, blowing her an elaborate kiss. ‘See you then.’
It was too cold to hang around outside. Music and warm air wafted invitingly from the shopping centre, so Adam and Danny strolled inside, contentedly munching their burgers as they walked.
‘Well? Do you like her?’ asked Danny.
‘Like who?’
‘Linda, the lovely Linda who gave us the burgers!’ laughed Danny.
Adam nodded. ‘She’s really nice. Is she your girlfriend?’
‘Absolutely! Well, kind of. She’s a great girl. She’s fun to work with – we have lots of laughs.’
They stopped outside the window of a women’s fashion shop, still eating. Danny looked in at the window display of tall, pale shop-dummies arranged in various poses. They were dressed in the latest clothes and stood like beautiful, stern creatures from another planet. They gazed into the distance. Sad, gorgeous, frozen.
Adam's Starling Page 2