The Day the Ear Fell Off

by T. M. Alexander

  T. M. Alexander likes short words more than long ones and spinach more than cabbage. She writes in a little room hidden away behind a secret door that’s disguised as a bookcase. If the door ever gets stuck she will never be seen again.

  Find out more at www.tmalexander.com

  Get to know the Tribers at

  www.tribers.co.uk

  Have you read these other Tribe books?

  A Thousand Water Bombs

  Labradoodle on the Loose

  Monkey Bars and Rubber Ducks

  For Otter, Wib and Boo

  First published in Great Britain in 2009:

  by Piccadilly Press Ltd,

  5 Castle Road, London NW1 8PR

  www.piccadillypress.co.uk

  Previously published as:

  Jonno Joins © T.M. Alexander, 2009

  This edition published 2012

  Text copyright © T.M. Alexander, 2009

  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 copyright owner.

  The right of T.M. Alexander to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN: 978 1 84812 293 2 (paperback)

  eISBN: 978 1 84812 299 4

  1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

  Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY

  Cover design by Patrick Knowles

  Cover illustration by Sue Hellard

  Contents

  Jonno Joins

  day one of the summer term

  getting rid of Newboy

  the human wall

  Copper Pie cops it

  tea with the enemy

  clumsy clot

  team talk

  operation: save Copper Pie

  Alley Cats

  a bit of bother

  a true and faithful account

  Tribe initiation

  a load of useless ideas

  treats, talk or torture

  happy birthday!

  facing the mob

  late home

  Bribes, Beetles, Bark and Bobotie

  being a Triber

  a shock in assembly

  an opportunity knocks

  hands up for Jonno

  a pig’s breakfast

  the trial

  hermit crab

  summoning the executioner

  at Jonno’s

  please let the ground swallow me . . .

  Tribe tea at Fifty’s

  the Tribers all want to say one last thing

  Jonno Joins

  day one of the summer term

  You never know what’s round the corner. My mum says that all the time.

  When I was small, I used to think she was giving me a warning. I thought she meant that you should watch out in case you turn a corner and get caught up in the middle of an army of purple aliens clambering back on to the mother ship, and disappear FOREVER. Even though I thought it was unlikely, I would find myself slowing down e v e r s o s l i g h t l y at corners until I had a proper view ahead. As soon as I saw the coast was clear, I’d speed up again. I don’t do that now of course, because I understand she means that you never know what’s going to happen next. It’s not about luck or un-luck because Mum says it when someone’s won the lottery and when someone’s died. It’s just a fact.

  And the fact of my story is that something’s come round my corner and all of a sudden I’m part of it, and it feels important, so I’m keeping a record of how it started.

  Actually it began with a kind of alien – a new boy. I expect our teacher (she’s called Miss Walsh) introduced him and told us to be nice and all that, but if she did, I didn’t take any of it in. Don’t get the wrong idea, I’m actually a bit of a nerd, but I only listen to the interesting bits. The in-between stuff that teachers like to say but I don’t need to hear gets separated off and binned, like junk mail. I don’t even know where Newboy sat that first morning, except that it wasn’t anywhere near me.

  At break my mates and I raced outside to get on with whatever it was we were going to get on with. Our territory is in the corner by the netball court where the trees hang over. It’s a scrubby bit of dirt really – the shade kills all the grass – but it’s ours so it’s good anyway.

  There are four of us. I’m Keener. There’s Copper Pie (funny name, I know). Next there’s Fifty and, last but definitely not least, there’s Bee. (Not a cool thing to admit but yes, I am friendly with a girl.)

  The four of us didn’t exactly choose to be mates. But when you’ve known someone since you were four years old, they sort of stick whether you like it or not.

  It was sticking that I first remember us doing. Fifty’s mum had come in to school to help us make papier-mâché balloons. Bad idea. Fifty’s too-sloppy newspaper kept sliding off. Copper Pie burst at least three balloons by pressing too hard. Bee knocked over the glue diving to save the slippery balloons. By tidy-up time, there was more goo on them than anywhere else. (None on me though – I borrowed the yellow rubber gloves meant for wash-up time because I didn’t like it.) I remember all the laughing and thinking that school was nice, which it was in Reception.

  We’ve been put in the same classes ever since and never bothered to make any other friends. We don’t need anyone else.

  We especially didn’t need anyone else in our patch. At breaktime Fifty was the last of us to step under the tree, followed by someone else. The sun stopped me seeing who it was. I wasn’t worried. Other kids are allowed to come and talk to us, although hardly anyone does. But as the boy-shape moved forwards into the shadows, I could see it wasn’t someone I knew. And strangers were NOT welcome. Without saying anything, we all turned away and tried to carry on as usual, but he didn’t leave. We could all feel him watching us.

  Copper Pie spoke first. ‘D’you want something?’

  The shape shrugged.

  He tried again. ‘I said, “D’you want something?”’

  ‘Not especially,’ said the shape.

  ‘Go away then.’

  We’re not meant to speak to people like that at school. There’s a motto: We don’t all have to be friends, but we all have to be friend-ly.

  ‘I’m fine here,’ said the stranger, who I worked out must be Newboy.

  I really wanted to get rid of him but I didn’t know what to do. Most people we know would have scuttled away if Copper Pie told them to. (He can be a bit of a thug.)

  Fifty tried next. ‘Listen, you’re new so you don’t know, but this is our area.’ He used the I’m-so-charming smile that works with the teachers. He practises it in front of the mirror, in every window, and on the back of shiny spoons.

  ‘Says who?’ said Newboy.

  ‘Says me,’ said Fifty, looking straight into Newboy’s armpit.

  I could see that a midget telling him to get lost wasn’t going to work. But Newboy seemed so unbothered it was difficult to think what would work.

  Bee put one hand on her hip, pointed at the stranger and tried her favourite saying – with the American accent and all the actions.

  ‘You’re invading our personal bubble.’ She drew an imaginary line round the four of us with her finger, then put her hand back on her hip and flicked her very long black fringe out of her eyes so she could stare at him.

  He shrugged and stayed exactly where he was.

  And so did we.

  We hung around and talked in quiet voices but it was totally fake because all the time HE was leaning
against the trunk of OUR tree working his heel into the ground, making a hollow. I’m sure all the others felt like me: mad. I wanted to shout ‘Go away’ but I didn’t dare.

  Usually break is too short but on that day it was too long. We couldn’t leave our patch and play somewhere else because we had to protect it. We couldn’t carry on as normal because of him lurking. I suppose we could have shoved him off but me and Fifty aren’t like that, and Copper Pie is like that but is trying not to be. And Bee, well, she’s used to people doing what she says, but Newboy didn’t know that.

  At last, the bell went and we lined up.

  ‘What did he think he was doing?’ I asked.

  ‘No idea. Must be a weirdo,’ said Copper Pie.

  ‘Well, let’s hope he decides to be weird somewhere else,’ I said.

  ‘We’ll make sure he does,’ said Bee.

  Bee’s always like that – definite. She’s never ‘not sure’ or ‘can’t decide’.

  ‘How are we going to do that?’ I was thinking force fields, trip-alarms, perimeter guards.

  ‘Make him not want to come near us,’ she answered, with a mean look.

  ‘Scary. I like it,’ said Fifty. ‘It’s time to make Newboy’s life a living hell.’

  getting rid of Newboy

  It didn’t take long for the campaign to start. In history (we’re doing Romans), Fifty was sitting in front of no-name Newboy. He put up his hand. ‘Please Miss Walsh, I’m finding it difficult to concentrate because someone behind me keeps kicking my chair.’

  Lies. Good move, I thought. Unless Lily had grown stilts, there was only one pair of legs that could be guilty. Newboy didn’t get a full-blown telling off – after all, it was his first day – but it showed him we meant business.

  At lunch, I was confident Newboy would decide we weren’t worth the bother. We demolished sausage, peas and jacket potato and headed for our spot and can you believe it? He was there. Sitting cross-legged on the ground with his back to us, picking at the bark of the biggest tree – our bark, our tree.

  An open declaration of war if ever there was one.

  I’d like to say we were up for it but I think we were all a bit . . . not scared but . . . confused . . . about what to do next. Generally kids don’t act like Newboy – they find someone who doesn’t mind playing with them.

  We hovered for a minute nearby. Copper Pie kicked the ground a few times, sprinkling dirty specks over the back of Newboy’s white T-shirt.

  He twisted round so that I could see one of his eyes. ‘Hi.’

  Not one of us answered.

  I waited to see what was going to happen. Hoping there wasn’t going to be a fight.

  ‘Let’s just go somewhere else,’ said Bee quietly.

  Phew! My thoughts exactly.

  ‘No way,’ said Copper Pie loudly. He walked round so he was facing Newboy and stopped with the toe of his trainer actually touching the skin of Newboy’s knee. Newboy did nothing.

  ‘Let’s show the newbie —’

  ‘No. Let’s not show anyone anything,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Same,’ said Fifty. (He can’t say ‘I agree’ like normal people.)

  Bee yanked Copper Pie’s arm and dragged him away. We all try and keep him out of trouble. It isn’t always easy.

  ‘Go find yourself some other kids to hassle,’ she shouted.

  ‘Loser,’ Copper Pie added on the end.

  Newboy didn’t look up. He didn’t even stop flaking the lumps of loose bark off the tree. I couldn’t help thinking that if there was a loser round here, it wasn’t him. Although leaving didn’t seem right, none of us wanted to spend another breaktime with the limpet boy.

  ‘He’s probably got something wrong with him,’ said Fifty. I hadn’t thought of that. I glanced over to check. It was almost like he knew I was studying him because he shifted round a bit and we accidentally locked eyes (or glasses in his case). And he smiled a big friendly smile. It was almost impossible not to smile back but, by whipping my head back quickly, I managed. It was very creepy. I had expected a glare.

  ‘What’s wrong with him is the fact that he’s a cling-on,’ said Bee, leaning against the wall by the loos. ‘We need a plan to lose the stalker, and the first part of it has to be to get outside before him.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said C.P. ‘Then we’ll have the advantage.’

  ‘But we need to stop him from following us . . .’ said Fifty.

  ‘A blockade,’ I said.

  ‘Made of what?’ asked Fifty.

  ‘We could rope off our area, tie one end to the branches and put the other through the wire fence.’

  There was a general lack of enthusiasm for my idea. Not unusual.

  ‘He’d climb under,’ said Fifty. ‘What about a fire?’

  We always ignore anything he says that’s to do with fire. It’s an unhealthy obsession (according to his mum) and scary (according to us).

  ‘We could make a really bad smell,’ said Copper Pie.

  ‘You don’t need us for that. You could do it on your own,’ said Bee.

  ‘Sandbags,’ I said.

  ‘Get real, Keener.’ Bee has lots of expressions she uses to diss people.

  ‘Right, everyone think. It needs to be something we can get past but stops him,’ said Fifty, spelling out the problem.

  ‘Bodies,’ said Copper Pie.

  Fifty made an excellent you-total-idiot face. ‘What?’

  Copper Pie said it again. ‘Bodies. We’ve got four. He’s got one. We make a human wall, like in football.’

  Fifty quickly changed it to a you’re-not-as-stupid-as-you-look face. ‘You’re not as stupid as you look,’ he said. ‘What does everyone else think?’

  ‘It might work,’ I said, not very keenly. I didn’t fancy getting into a scrap.

  ‘Right, morning break tomorrow, we’ll make sure we get out there first, lock arms and stand tall. There’s only one way in to our patch so he’ll have to break us down or give up.’ Bee has a habit of stealing other people’s ideas and making them seem like hers. Luckily Copper Pie didn’t care.

  ‘Newboy’s done for!’ He made two fists and did a yob face. It wasn’t much different from his regular face.

  ‘Same,’ said Fifty.

  ‘Four against one. What’s he gonna do?’ said C.P.

  I couldn’t help thinking that he’d find some way round our plan. Newboy was definitely not your average kid.

  the human wall

  Mum comes straight from work to pick up me and my sister, so although it’s not very far, we go home in the car. I’d like to walk with Bee and Copper Pie but Mum says, ‘I have to get Flo so I may as well take you too.’ Fifty’s not allowed to walk either.

  Why don’t mums get it? How are we meant to grow up and get a job and buy things on the internet and drive a car and shave and all the other things men do if we don’t start practising basic skills like road-crossing now?

  In the playground, Mum waits with Fifty’s mum and his baby sister, Probably Rose. (They couldn’t decide what to call her, so when anyone asked her name they said, ‘Probably Rose’, and it stuck.) Our two mums convince each other that they’re bringing us up with the right amount of independence – none. They’re a bad combination: a doctor (my mum) and a pay-me-and-I’ll-make-your-life-better therapist (that’s what Fifty’s mum is). When she asks you a question she stares into your eyes – it makes you blink and it’s impossible to lie.

  ‘How was your day, darling?’ Mum asked.

  Always the same question. Always answered by Flo before I have a chance. Even if I manage to start my first word before she does, she says her words anyway and mine get pulped.

  ‘Mummy, Mr Dukes says we need a packed lunch and a raincoat.’

  ‘Is that for your trip, darling?’

  ‘Yes. It’s not the day after, it’s the day after the day after.’ Flo has a problem with tomorrow. ‘And we need five pounds for the shop.’ She also lies.

  The conversation went on an
d I thought about Newboy. I wondered whether we should have been a bit nicer to him the first time he came over. Then he’d have realised we weren’t cool and moved on to some other kids instead and we wouldn’t have to do the human barricade. It was worrying me already and it wasn’t even tomorrow yet.

  At home, Flo and I had toasted buns and apple juice and then I went up to my room. I took off my school sweatshirt, hung it over my desk chair, washed my hands and then settled down in my favourite place – my hammock (which hangs across the corner of my room next to my bookcase) – to finish Stig of the Dump. Reading took my mind off the head-to-head planned for morning break. If we weren’t such good friends, I’d have been working out how to avoid it altogether. But it wasn’t an option. Buddies are buddies.

  KEENER’S FACT FILE

  • Likes reading, building models

  • Likes ALL computer games

  • Is good at ALL computer games

  • Brilliant skimboarder

  • Doesn’t like sticky things

  • Doesn’t like surprises

  • Doesn’t like sloppy food

  • Doesn’t like hair cuts (true surfboy)

  FAMILY STUFF

  Mum – doctor

  Dad – something boring with a briefcase!?!

  Sisters – Flo (small and bad) and Amy (big and bad)

  It happened just before Flo woke me up. I was in a dream, and so was Newboy, except he was huge and wearing a yellow waistcoat and a bow tie (yes, seriously weird). He was heading straight for me with his extra-large boots and every time they hit the ground, the earth trembled. I wanted to run away but I was stuck to the ground with the strongest glue ever. I couldn’t escape. Newboy grabbed me with a hand that was so big it went right round my middle and tried to pull me up but the glue was stronger than he was so my feet shot out of my purple (?!) shoes. He swung me round and round and threw me like a shot-put and I went flying. Suddenly I was on the ground . . . and there was blood. (I don’t do blood. I am officially a wuss when it comes to pain.) He was standing over me about to finish me off when . . .