Monkey Bars and Rubber Ducks

by T. M. Alexander

  mewminny (noun) – small cat noise

  nipallot (verb) – to tickle someone who’s not ticklish

  roobic (noun) – biscuit made from kangaroo

  optastic (adj.) – describing the best view ever

  fungnail (noun) – toe cheese

  reddimling (verb) – trying to make your face less red

  After tea I helped Mum in the garden. She’s a hopeless gardener – her fingers aren’t green, they’re toxic. We made the rockery together. I did all the hard work lugging the stones. She did the planting. It’s all weeds now. We attacked them together but Mum got fed up after a bit so I finished it myself. I had a super-deep hot bath after that, fell into bed and went straight to sleep without letting anything to do with camp sneak into my thoughts.

  All I Can Think About

  Is Camp . . .

  Fridays should be good. Dad always has a Friday feeling -that means a good feeling, because it’s nearly the weekend. My Friday started off bad. From the minute I woke up (thanks for the early morning body slam, Flo) all I could think about was being away from home for four days and having to team up with kids I don’t like and, worse, sleep in a tent with kids I hardly know. I tried the compodasty stuff but my brain wasn’t playing. My brain was only interested in what I was going to do about CAMP.

  There was only one way I was going to feel better. I had to get to school, and quick. I needed the Tribers. I wolfed a couple of wet Weetabix (they don’t require chewing, they don’t taste of anything either), shouted ‘Bye’ to no one in particular and headed off. I texted Fifty on the way to make sure I didn’t have to spend ten minutes waiting for him at the corner where we meet.

  ‘What’s the hurry? Flo bullying you again?’

  Ha ha, Fifty! I ignored his stupid remark and launched straight in to the CAMP problem. Fifty listened to me go on about how bad it was going to be, and when I stopped so he could say something back he said, ‘Same’.

  It’s no help having a friend like Fifty when there’s trouble. We didn’t need ‘Same’. We needed solutions. We needed the others.

  As we turned out of the alley I could see Copper Pie standing by the school gates, eating a bag of crisps – from a distance they looked like salt and vinegar. He usually has beef.

  We were about to cross the road when I heard a dog bark – it was Doodle, dragging Bee and Jonno, and way behind was Bee’s mum. Thanks to Doodle’s speed we all got to the gates at the same time (except for Bee’s mum).

  ‘What are you stuffing those for?’ said Bee to Copper Pie. Doodle tried to put his nose into C. P.’ s pocket. He could obviously smell the remains of his endless snacks.

  ‘Ran out of beef,’ he said, between chewing. His teeth were covered in a layer of mashed crisps.

  ‘Idiot, I meant why are you eating crisps for breakfast? They’re one of the top five bad foods. It’s so unhealthy,’ said Bee. Her mum had just caught up with us – she shrugged her shoulders as if to say,’ I don’t know where she gets it from.’

  ‘It’s not breakfast. That was ages ago.’

  Bee rolled her eyes, like a mum whose child won’t eat his greens.

  ‘Are we going in?’ she said. It did seem a bit odd standing at the gates and not going through them.

  ‘Do you think we’re meant to go straight to the office or are we allowed in the playground before registration?’ asked Jonno.

  I knew the answer but I wasn’t going to say it. If no one else remembered, I wasn’t going to be the one making us sit like lemons (but not as yellow) outside the office before school.

  ‘Office,’ said Fifty. ‘The Head said every spare minute.’

  Jonno gave Doodle a big rub on the back, and kissed his neck. That boy is weird. And we left Bee’s mum and walked slowly towards the main door.

  I don’t know about the rest of them but I couldn’t have cared less about the uncomfortable seats waiting for us. I was worried about being under canvas with Callum, or jammed up next to Jamie in a sleeping bag.

  Copper Pie opened the door. Fifty went next, then Bee. I was next. As I put my foot on the step I heard Flo’s foghorn voice.

  ‘There’s Keener, Mummy. He’s going to sit by the Head’s room, isn’t he, Mummy?’

  I carried on in, without a glance. The five of us walked in complete silence along the corridor. There were only three chairs outside, but still no one spoke. Jonno and Copper Pie went and got two chairs out of Mr Dukes’ classroom. They lined them up and we all sat down . . . and waited for the bell, or the Head – whichever came first.

  But what came first was a whole lot more amazing . . .

  Mum’s

  Army

  There was the sound of lots of feet, some clompy and some clickety. We all zoomed in on the direction of the approaching army. It didn’t sound like kids, and teachers don’t usually go round in herds.

  Incredibly, it turned out to be mums. To be specific, my mum, Bee’s mum (but no Doodle), Copper Pie’s mum (she was in the front) and Fifty’s mum. I strained to see behind, in case Jonno’s mum was there too, but there were only four. I don’t know why I said ‘only’ – I mean four mums coming into school on a Friday morning was quite a few.

  ‘What’s going on, Mum?’ said Bee.

  Copper Pie’s mum was obviously the Commanding Officer. She did the talking.

  ‘We’ve come to sort out the Year 6 camp. It’s your last trip in this school. Don’t you worry. You’ll either be together, or you won’t be going.’

  I wanted to cheer. My face was flooding with bright pinkness. It was like having Jiminy Cricket or a fairy godmother or a genie or something come and grant you a wish like in fairy tales. I looked over at Mum and she winked. I wanted to give her a great big hug. I couldn’t remember her ever standing up for me before. I had a look round to see what the other Tribers thought of it all.

  Copper Pie was holding his fist in the air,’ Yes!’

  Bee had pushed her fringe out of her eyes and was standing up, hands on hips, like a scary Amazon.

  Fifty was still sitting, grinning a grin so big it was like the Cheshire Cat’s grin in Alice in Wonderland when the rest of the cat has disappeared.

  But Jonno . . . well, he was . . . sitting, looking at his knees.

  I nudged him. ‘We’ve got an army of mums to fight for us. Tribe wins again.’

  He raised his mop of bushy hair to look at me. ‘Great. Really great.’

  I got it. I expect Bee got it before I did – she’s good at people. I bet Fifty got it too – he’s like his mum, he knows what’s going on underneath. I bet Copper Pie still hadn’t got it, but he would, as soon as it was pointed out. Jonno was the only one of us whose mum hadn’t come to the rescue. Jonno’s was the only mum who didn’t care. It’s funny, I liked her when I first met her. She wears beads in her hair that play tunes as she walks, and she’s really . . . sophisticated, like in a magazine at the dentist’s. But I don’t think she’s that nice because we never get invited to his house (I’ve been twice, once invited, once not) and she didn’t come to the summer fair, and she made Copper Pie turn the telly off the only time he ever went there. The more I thought about it there was quite a lot of evidence against her.

  Copper Pie’s mum knocked on the Head’s door, three times.

  ‘Come in,’ said the voice.

  I wish I could have seen the Head’s face, but there wasn’t a chance. The four mums marched in and the door banged shut.

  We did a totally spontaneous silent Tribe handshake. It was hard not to laugh. Whoever would have thought the mums would come into school to stick up for us? It was almost too fantastic.

  The bell went.

  ‘What do we do?’ said Fifty.

  We all wanted to stay to see what happened but we knew that would only cause more trouble.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Bee. ‘Come on, Jonno.’ She grabbed his arm and said something I couldn’t hear. I expect she was trying to make him feel better. I think Copper Pie must have heard beca
use he punched Jonno – that means ‘You’re our mate, even if your mum’s let us down.’

  * * *

  The day went on and on and on. We sat outside the Head’s office at morning break, at lunch and at afternoon break. The Head didn’t say one word to us. Not one word. We all wanted to ask her what had happened, but no one dared. Judging by her face, she detested us even more than she had the day before. Good job we were only a month away from leaving junior school. I texted Mum but she didn’t reply, and neither did Fifty’s mum. Copper Pie didn’t dare text his mum and Bee said her mum had left her phone at Bee’s brothers’ place. It was no good, we had to wait until we got home. Loads of the little kids who saw us sitting in a line in the corridor giggled and pointed and all that, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that we had to be allowed to be Tribe at camp. That’s what mattered.

  We agreed to all go home together, and although the Tribehouse would have been good, we agreed to go to mine because Fifty thought his mum was taking Probably Rose to have her hair cut. (What hair? The little wisp on top? I didn’t have my hair cut until I was about three. Probably Rose isn’t even two. My mum took me to the barber and he got out his electric razor thing and I was frightened so I kicked him. That’s quite unlike me – I must have been terrified.)

  So we legged it to mine, and we arrived seconds behind Mum who had parked the car and was just helping Flo get her ‘absolutely amazing’ (code for rubbish) painting out of the boot.

  ‘Hello,’ said Mum. ‘Do we have the pleasure of the whole Tribe?’

  We all nodded. I knew I had to be the one to ask – it was my mum – but I was having trouble getting the words out. What if it hadn’t worked? What if the Head had told our mums to go away and leave the running of the school to her? What if she’d said Tribe was expelled and we could only continue in school if we were Tribe-less? What if. . .

  Mum saved me.

  ‘I expect you’d like a blow-by-blow account of our meeting with the Head.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Bee.

  The Blow-By-Blow

  Account

  ‘The Head didn’t look too pleased to see us,’ said Mum. ‘But we explained that we felt strongly that you shouldn’t be punished so severely for trying to help Jim.’

  ‘But they shouldn’t have left school, Mummy,’ said Flo.

  Mum gave Flo the evil eye. Go Mum!

  ‘You can either stay in here,’ said Mum. She paused and put her finger in front of her lips. ‘And listen. Or you can go in the living room.’

  Flo made the ugly face. Mum ignored it and looked at Fifty. ‘Your mother was excellent, Fifty. She was most concerned that if you weren’t allowed to be with your friends at camp as a direct result of helping someone, the lesson you would learn would be to not help someone another time.’

  What an awesome argument. The Head was teaching us how not to be good citizens.

  ‘What did she say to that?’ I asked, dying to hear that she’d collapsed sobbing and begged our mums to forgive her.

  ‘I think that was when there was a knock at the door and Jonno’s dad came in. I didn’t catch his name, is it Andrew?’

  All of a sudden Jonno was smiling big time.

  ‘Yes. No, I mean, it’s Adrian. What was my dad doing there?’

  ‘The same as the rest of us,’ said Mum. ‘Looking after our Tribers.’

  Copper Pie punched Jonno. I think he was a bit overenthusiastic because Jonno lost his smile for a second and rubbed his arm.

  ‘Go on,’ said Bee, adding, ‘please’at the end.

  ‘Well, there’s a man with a genius for talking! Adrian was most charming, and after thanking the Head for helping Jonno to settle in, and thanking all of us for having such welcoming children,’ (she smiled at us, one at a time) ‘and apologising for being late, he turned our rather confrontational beginning into the most agreeable meeting. The Head agreed she had been a little hasty in her decision about camp. And Adrian suggested she was in fact showing how very concerned she was for the safety of her pupils, who should not be out roaming the streets.’

  ‘So are we in the clear?’ asked Fifty.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Mum.

  It was time to celebrate. Jim was going to get to stay at home, thanks to Copper Pie’s mum, and we were going to be together at camp. Mum brought out some chocolate chip cookies and made up a jug of blackcurrant. We all sat down at the table, except Jonno.

  ‘I think I’ll get off, if that’s OK?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Fifty. ‘This is chocolate.’ He pointed at the plate of cookies, that was already half empty.

  Jonno wobbled his head from side to side as though he was a set of scales weighing it all up.’ No, I’ll get off. I kind of want to thank my dad.’

  ‘Thank your dad later,’ said Copper Pie, taking two more cookies to go with the one still in his mouth.

  ‘Let him go,’ said Fifty. ‘Leaves more for us.’ He was joking, almost certainly.

  I didn’t say anything, and it wasn’t because I had my mouth full of sweet crumbly chocolate, it was because I understood. Tribers are meant to stick together, but that doesn’t mean they have to stay in the same room. Jonno wanted to go, and that was fine. Wherever we all are, we’re still a team. We’re still Tribe.

  ‘Hang on a sec, Jonno,’ said Bee. ‘Tribe handshake.’ She slapped down her hand and the rest of us followed.

  One, two, three. We threw our hands high in the sky.

  I had a Friday feeling. A really good one. I reckoned we all did.

  Under

  Canvas

  All

  Packed Up

  By Sunday night I was all packed up. One sleeping bag with small pillow inside, one middle-sized rucksack with all my clothes for the week including a waterproof and my wetsuit, a towel and a wash bag, one pair of wellies hung on the outside, one small rucksack for days out, everything named. Mum had given me a pep talk that covered subjects ranging from sleep problems to advice about food.

  MUM’S PEP TALK

  Homesickness

  Lots of children feel this. It’s OK to feel homesick. It may happen at night: It will pass. (This has to be the most unuseful advice ever)

  Temperature

  In the day it can vary enormously so wear layers e. g. a short-sleeved T-shirt, a long-sleeved T-shirt and a sweatshirt. Take off or put on as necessary. (Thank you, Mum. I could have worked that out.) At night, if cold, wear socks and a woolly hat. (They’re called beanies, Mum.)

  The water will be cold. (Really?) Wear your wetsuit even if other children don’t. They may not own one. (I will not be wearing a wetsuit if everyone else is in trunks. I’d rather freeze to death in my trunks.)

  Clothes

  Everything is labelled, except pants. Don’t bother reclaiming lost pants found under the groundsheet – it’s embarrassing. (Too right.)

  Safety

  Listen to the instructor carefully. All the activities are safe as long as you abide by the rules. (This is Keener, Mum. I’m a rules person. I will only disobey if absolutely necessary, and agreed with the Tribers.)

  Hygiene

  Please wash, Keener. (I am the boy that doesn’t like sticky things on my hands. Of course I will wash. Copper Pie may not.)

  Food

  Wash your hands. (See above.) Choose dishes cooked for a long time, like stews, to avoid tummy upsets. (It’s not a restaurant.)

  Bowels

  Drink plenty of water to help you go to the toilet. A change of diet can make you bunged up. (I’m embarrassed now, Mum.)

  Everything about me was ready, except me. I didn’t want to go. I’m just not the sort of kid that wants to go away for a week with school. I like holidays, but that’s different because you’re with your family. I sat on the bed and tried to give myself a Keener pep talk. It went like this: Keener, you’ll be with Tribe all week, eating, sleeping, mucking about. It’ll be good.

  I repeated it a few times and I could feel my brain starting
to believe it might be true, and then Dad came in. His pep talk was quite different from Mum’s, no toilet or bathroom tips.

  DAD’S PEP TALK

  I know you’re probably feeling like you don’t want to go, but, believe me, other children will be sitting at home feeling just like you do. You will all have a good time when you get there. You might not enjoy every minute, and sometimes you might want to come home, but most of the time you’ll be busy having fun.

  Remember it’s only four days and three nights, and then you’ll be home again. You’re lucky – you’ve got four fantastic friends to keep you company. Not everyone has such close mates to rely on. So if you’re feeling a bit sad, go and find a Triber. In no time at all you’ll be back home, sitting right here on this bed, full of stories about how Tribe had a great time at camp.

  I decided to focus on Dad’s last sentence. Being back home again.

  Flo woke me up by dangling two of her homemade pompom animals over my face. It took me a few minutes to work out that I wasn’t in a woolly animal dream and that it was setting-off-for-camp day. I had a poke around inside my head to decide how I felt – not too bad. In fact, I was quite keen to get on with it. The sooner we got there, the sooner I got back home.

  The

  Bus

  I didn’t walk because I had too much stuff. Mum dropped me off. She kissed me (in the car, not in front of the world) and said ‘You’ll be fine.’ And then she drove off.

  The whole of Year 6 had been told to stand in the netball court next to our bags. Some Year 6s did exactly that. A whole other lot of Year 6s ran around like lunatics, excited about the trip, I guess. And there were a few waiting with their parents.

  The Tribers stood together. I didn’t feel much like talking so I let them chatter on while I inspected everyone’s luggage.

  Jonno had a proper walker’s rucksack with a tiny sleeping bag strapped on the front. All very organised.