Balaclava Boy

by Jenny Robson

  BALACLAVA BOY

  BALACLAVA BOY

  by Jenny Robson

  illustrations by Sandy Mitchell

  BALACLAVA BOY

  First published in 2009 by Tafelberg, an imprint of NB Publishers, Cape Town, South Africa

  This edition published in 2014 by

  Little Island Books

  7 Kenilworth Park

  Dublin 6W

  Ireland

  www.littleisland.ie

  Text © JM Robson 2009

  Illustrations © S Mitchell 2009

  The author has asserted her moral rights.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in a retrieval system in any form or by any means (including electronic/digital, mechanical, photocopying, scanning, recording or otherwise, by means now known or hereinafter invented) without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-908195-91-3

  A British Library Cataloguing in Publication record for this book is available from the British Library

  Cover design adapted from the German-language edition (Tommy Mütze) published by Baobab Books, Basel, Switzerland.

  Printed in Poland by Drukarnia Skleniars

  Little Island receives financial assistance from The Arts Council (An Chomhairle Ealaíon) and The Arts Council of Northern Ireland

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  In memory of Matt, my best friend

  Contents

  1. Monday Comprehension

  2. Monday Break-Time

  3. Tuesday Maths

  4. Tuesday Natural Science

  5. Wednesday Questions

  6. Wednesday Answers

  7. Thursday Assembly

  8. Thursday Sixth Period

  9. Friday Surprise

  10. Friday Free Orals – Part 1

  11. Friday Free Orals – Part 2

  1

  Monday Comprehension

  “This sucks!” said Dumisani, my best friend in the world.

  “This sucks big time!”

  “Yeah,” I whispered back. “Stupid boring Comprehension!”

  There we sat in the front desk in Grade Four SV, not feeling happy. First we had to read this story about some stupid boring boy called Markos. This Markos person was on his way to market. To buy fish or something for his mother. Then there were the Comprehension questions at the end. They were also stupid and boring. Why was Markos walking to market? What did he have in his pocket? Why was he worried?

  “Hey, Doogal,” Dumisani whispered to me. “I know why this Markos guy is walking.”

  “Why?”

  “Hey, because his Lamborghini’s got a flat tyre!”

  I laughed. Dumisani is the funniest guy in the world. It’s great sitting next to him! Then I thought of something too. “Hey, Dumz. Do you know what’s in his pocket?”

  “What?”

  “His pet baby elephant. Called Spaghetti Nose.”

  Now Dumisani laughed. “Spaghetti Nose! Good one, Doogz. Okay, so why is he worried?”

  I started to answer. “Because …”

  But then our teacher, Miss Venter, got on our case. “Doogal! Dumisani! Shush!” Miss Venter is always telling us to shush. That’s why we have to sit in the front desk. Because we’re too talkative. But it’s hard to be quiet when you sit next to someone like Dumisani!

  Now Cherise stuck her nose in. “Yes, shush, you two! How can I concentrate?”

  Cherise sat all by herself in her double desk, right behind us. No one wants to sit next to her. She’s very clever and very bossy.

  So of course Dumisani and I had to turn round and pull our worst faces at her. But that got Miss Venter, aka the Dragon Lady, on our case again.

  “Doogal! Dumisani! Face the front! Dear! Dear! Dear!” Miss Venter is always saying “Dear! Dear! Dear!” Each time she says it, she pats her chest. Then big clouds of white talcum powder rise up from the top of her blouse.

  “His pet baby elephant. Called Spaghetti Nose.”

  Just then the door opened. In came our headmaster, Mr Rasool, with some new pupil behind him. All of us forgot to stand up. Well, except for Cherise. Mostly, we were in too much shock to be polite. We couldn’t believe what we were seeing!

  “This is Tommy MacAdam, children,” said Mr Rasool, aka Mr Mosi. “Remember, at Colliery Primary we do our best to make new pupils feel welcome. So be kind and thoughtful.”

  And we all forgot to say “Yes, Sir”. Even Cherise. We were too busy staring at this new guy, Tommy. He was wearing an ordinary green Colliery Primary tracksuit. He had ordinary brown eyes. But that was all that was ordinary about him. The rest of his face – his nose, his mouth, his cheeks, even his hair – was hidden under a balaclava! A redand-orange striped balaclava! How about that?!

  The poor new boy had to sit next to Cherise. That was the only empty seat. Miss Venter gave him a book so he could do the Comprehension too. Cherise kept bossing him around and explaining on and on about Markos and his fish.

  But Dumisani and I had stopped caring about this Markos and his stupid boring shopping. We had more interesting stuff to think about. Like: Why, why, why was the new guy wearing a balaclava?

  “This is Tommy MacAdam, children.”

  “Hey, Doogz, maybe he’s got a big red birthmark on his cheek.”

  “This is weird, Doogz,” Dumisani whispered.

  “It’s – it’s bizarre,” I whispered back. My big sister is always calling stuff ‘bizarre’. I don’t know exactly what it means. But it sounded just right.

  “Hey, Doogz, maybe he’s got a big red birthmark on his cheek. You know, like Transformer in Grade Seven.”

  “Or maybe,” I whispered back, “maybe he was in a fire and his face got burned. Or he was in an accident so he’s got scars all over. Like Mr Davids in Aloe Street.”

  But Miss Venter, aka the Dragon Lady, was on our case again.

  “Doogal! Dumisani! Dear! Dear! Dear!” Pat pat pat went her hand on her chest. Puff puff puff: three clouds of Lily of the Valley powder covered her face. It’s the same powder my mom uses sometimes. I know the smell well.

  Still Dumisani held up his Comprehension book so he could whisper behind it. “Break-time, Doogz. He’ll have to take the thing off to eat his lunch, right? Then we’ll get to see what’s underneath.”

  After all, Mr Rasool said we must be kind.

  2

  Monday Break-Time

  We walked around the playground with the new boy, one on each side. After all, Mr Rasool said we must be kind.

  “My name’s Dumisani,” said Dumisani. “And this guy’s Doogal. Or you can call us the Doo Dudes. That’s our aka.”

  Tommy nodded his balaclava.

  Then we started asking him question after question. Where did you live before? What school did you go to? Is your dad at the Coal Mine or the Power Station? Most of our dads work at the Coal Mine or the Power Station. Some of our moms too. Way off over the roof tops, you can see the huge cooling towers puffing steam into the air. Sometimes you can hear the steam engines carrying coal from the Mine.

  Do you have brothers and sisters? Do you have a Play Station?

  I wanted to laugh. We sounded just like a stupid boring Comprehension ourselves! The only question we didn’t ask was: Why are you wearing that thing on your head?

  Tommy answered all the questions through his redand-orange stripes. It was quite hard to hear what he was saying. At last he sat down and opened his lunch-box. Dumisani and I sat down too, one on each side of him. We held our breath.

  But we held our breath for nothing! Tommy didn’t take off his balaclava. He just pulled the stripes away from his neck and his mouth and slid his tomato sandwich up underneath. It was very disappointing.

/>   Our friend Obakeng was yelling at us now. “Hey, Doo Dudes. Let’s have ourselves some soccer! Bring that new guy along.”

  Tommy was a bit nervous at first. “Me too? Are you sure? I only ever played a few times before. So I’m not sure …”

  But Dumisani promised he’d help and explain stuff. And then we ran down to the field. X-man and Riyaad and Johan Eksteen Clayton and Moketsi from our class were there already. Plus some guys from Grade Four JH.

  Tommy turned out to be one mean player. Very mean! Especially for someone with most of his head covered.

  When the bell rang, Obakeng, aka Ostrich Legz, yelled, “Hey, Balaclava Boy! Tomorrow you’re on my side. Okay, bru?”

  “You shouldn’t be so nosey!” Cherise was bossing us around from the girls’ line. “It’s Tommy’s private business. If Mr Rasool says he’s allowed to wear it, then it’s got nothing to do with you two.”

  “You shouldn’t be so nosey!”

  We were lined up on the netball court with the rest of the school. Obakeng yanked Tommy into the front of the boys’ line with him. But Dumisani and I got stuck halfway down, close to Cherise. She was giving us a lecture as usual.

  … Stupid boring Geography.

  “You wait!” Dumisani told her. “Straight after school, soon as we’re out the gates, we’re going to ask him. Straight out. When there’s no one else around. Then first thing tomorrow we’ll tell you why!”

  “Yeah,” I added. “Because you’re dying to know, Cherise. Come on, don’t pretend. You and everyone else.”

  And it was the truth! All the rest of the Grade Fours were staring at our new boy. Plus the Grade Five NM bullies. Even the Grade Six snobs were having a good look.

  Miss Venter waited to lead us back to class for stupid boring Geography. Well, it was stupid and boring at the moment. Who cares where maize gets grown? Who cares when apples get ripe?

  “First thing tomorrow, Cherise,” Dumisani was promising. “You just wait …”

  But Miss Venter was on our case again. “Dumisani! Doogal! Cherise! Dear! Dear! Dear!”

  3

  Tuesday Maths

  “So, Double Trouble? Did you find out?” Cherise wanted to know, first thing on Tuesday morning.

  It was early, long before line-up. The Power Station siren was only just going off. Thandi and Hannah were only just starting their clapping game, chanting at the tops of their voices. Thandi and Hannah do everything at the tops of their voices!

  It was weird, being at school early. Usually I have to wait and wait outside Dumisani’s house. Usually he comes rushing out, still eating his toast. And with his bag and his tracksuit half-zipped. And then we have to run like mad to get to school before the line-up bell. This morning, instead, he was the one waiting for me!

  “And so, Double Trouble? What’s the answer then?” Cherise was there on the netball court with her hands on her hips.

  Thandi and Hannah do everything at the tops of their voices!

  Dumisani and I hate being called Double Trouble. Our proper nickname is the Doo Dudes. Or else, the Big Ds. Even though only Dumisani is big. I’m quite small. Nearly as small as Yasmiena.

  So we put down our bags and pretended Cherise wasn’t even there.

  “That’s strange, Doogz,” Dumisani said. “I thought Cherise said we shouldn’t be nosey.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, Dumz,” I said. “I’m sure she said it was Balaclava Boy’s private business.”

  Cherise was getting annoyed now. “Grow up!” she told us. Cherise is always telling Grade Fours to grow up. Especially us.

  Dumisani seemed like he was going to tease Cherise some more. But then he changed his mind. “Okay, Cherise. We asked Tommy. Straight out, right? And he said, ‘Because.’ That’s all.”

  “Because?” Cherise frowned hard under her fringe.

  We nodded. That was the truth. That’s the only answer Tommy gave us there outside the school gates.

  Cherise put her hands on her hips again. “That’s not a proper answer! It has to be ‘Because – something.’ You can’t say ‘Because’ and then stop. That doesn’t make sense!”

  Just then, Tommy walked through the school gates. Today he was wearing a navy blue balaclava.

  For a second, I wanted to run over and yank that navy blue balaclava right off his head and see what was underneath. But of course you can’t do stuff like that. No matter how much you want to. It’s rude. It’s mean.

  Cherise said, “You watch, Big Ds. I’ll get a proper answer. I’ll use psychology.”

  ‘Psychology’! That sounded like a good word! I said it over in my mind a few times to remember it.

  But Dumisani laughed. “Bet you it doesn’t work, Clever Clogs.” Then we ran down to join the early morning soccer game. Tommy was already there, playing on Obakeng’s side. He even scored a goal! We had a great time. Well, until the Grade Five NM bullies stole our ball. The Grade Five NM bullies are always doing stuff like that.

  But the line-up bell was going anyway.

  All through stupid boring Maths and stupid boring decimal fractions, Dumisani and I kept quiet. We were waiting to hear Cherise start her psychology. The other Grade Fours were surprised, I think. They aren’t used to us two working in silence.

  First Obakeng, aka Ostrich Legz, pretended he needed to sharpen his pencil. On his way to the bin, he whispered, “Hey, Doo Dudes. What’s wrong, my bruz? Are you guys sick or something?”

  Then Johan Eksteen Clayton, aka JECO, pretended he needed to borrow Riyaad’s ruler. He also whispered as he passed our desk. “Eish! Are you okay, Big Ds?” That’s his favourite word: ‘eish!’ He uses it every time he speaks. No matter what else he’s saying!

  And then Thandi, who is very noisy anyway, blew her nose extra-loud. She went to throw her tissue away, then bent over our desk. “Wazzup, Dumisani? Wazzup, Doogal? Have you taken a vow of silence?”

  Miss Venter was getting annoyed. She told them to stop behaving like jack-in-the-boxes. Then she told Dumisani and me that she was very pleased with us for working so quietly.

  And then she told Billy de Beer, aka Lost In Space, to stop staring out the window. Billy de Beer spends all his time staring out of windows. That’s why he’s called Lost In Space.

  Billy de Beer spends all his time staring out of windows.

  Finally, finally, Cherise got going. We were already doing sum number 5.

  “Tommy,” we heard her say. So we leaned back to hear better. “Tommy, do you know why we call Miss Venter the Dragon Lady?”

  “Nah. Why?” Tommy said through his balaclava.

  “Because,” said Cherise.

  “What do you mean, ‘Because’?” said Tommy. “Because why?”

  “Oh, do you mean you want a reason?” We could hear in Cherise’s voice that she was smiling. “Okay, well, I’ll give you a reason. It’s because Miss Venter pats her chest and then her powder comes puffing out. And last year we learned a song called ‘Puff the Magic Dragon’. So that’s why.”

  Dumisani and I looked at each other and shook our heads. This psychology stuff took one long, long time to start working!

  “Okay, Tommy. Now I’m going to ask you a question. And you have to give me a reason too.”

  Dumisani and I held our breath.

  But Miss Venter was on Cherise’s case. “Is that you talking? Again? What’s got into you this week, my girl? Dear! Dear! Dear!”

  “Because,” said Cherise.

  “Okay, Tommy. Now I’m going to ask you a question. And you have to give me a reason too.”

  That kept Cherise quiet for the rest of the lesson. She hates getting into trouble with teachers! We didn’t hear another sound from her until stupid boring Maths was over and stupid boring Natural Science started. Well, it was stupid and boring at the moment. Who cares what fishes’ fins get called? Why can’t we rather do great white sharks? Or tsunamis?

  4

  Tuesday Natural Science

  Dumisani was busy drawing a
cowboy hat and dreadlocks on his fish. I was busy labelling my dorsal fin. Miss Venter was safe across the classroom, trying to help Billy de Beer, aka Lost In Space, to concentrate.

  That’s when Cherise got going again. “Okay, Tommy,” she whispered. “Now I want you to tell me why you’re wearing a balaclava.”

  But Tommy gave her the same answer he’d given us. “Because.”

  “Because – why?” Cherise demanded in her bossiest voice.

  “Because – because,” Tommy said. And then he kept silent. No matter how much Cherise bossed him around. Or talked on and on about reasons and explanations.

  Dumisani and I went back to our fishes. Dumisani labelled his gills. I gave my fish an iPod and some spectacles so he looked a bit like Moketsi. But Cherise hadn’t given up. She never gives up easily.

  Miss Venter was busy looking for something in the back cupboard now. So Cherise whispered, “Tommy, do you know what we call Mr Rasool?”

  “The headmaster? Nah, what?”

  “We call him Mr Mosi. Do you know why?”

  “Nah. Why?”

  “Because.”

  But Tommy knew what she was trying to do this time. So he just said, “Ha ha, very funny!”

  And of course Dumisani and I had to turn round and say, “Ha ha, Cherise. Very funny,” as well. And then the bell rang and it was the end of gills and scales and dorsal fins.

  “See, Smartie Pants,” Dumisani teased Cherise. “Your psychology stuff is useless! But don’t worry! The Doo Dudes are moving on to Plan B.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, even though I didn’t know what Plan B was yet. “You just watch and learn!”

  Cherise walked off with Mpho, aka Mousie Mousie, telling her that we were the most childish, irritating boys in Grade Four SV. Mpho said nothing. Mpho never says anything. Not ever.