How to Make Friends

by Charlotte Barkla

  I stared at the wind chimes – they did look pretty funny. I wasn’t sure why anyone would want to use rusty old keys and a tattered bowl rather than a nice new metal one you could get at the shops. Unless . . .

  I raised my hand. ‘It’s recycled!’

  Mr Zhu smiled his teddy-bear smile, just like Mr Bots. ‘That’s right, Edie. These wind chimes are made out of recycled materials.’

  ‘Nice one,’ whispered Annie B, making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

  Mr Zhu set the wind chimes on his desk. ‘Who can name something else that’s made of recycled materials?’

  This time my reaction time even beat Emily James’s. Luckily, my arm was stuck to my shoulder, otherwise I think I would’ve punched a hole through the ceiling.

  ‘Edie?’ Mr Zhu looked a little surprised. Probably because he’d never seen an arm move at the speed of light before.

  ‘Well . . .’ I launched into a detailed explanation of the episode of Ecowarriors, and the man with the recycled bottle house. I even remembered the number of bottles he’d used (60,102) as well as how long it took to build (1 year, 2 months, 4 days and 3.5 hours).

  When I finished my story, Mr Zhu was smiling at me. Most of my classmates were too, including Ling. And the whole time I was talking, I didn’t even hear a whisper of ‘Slimy Edie’ or ‘cookie poisoner’, which was a definite bonus.

  ‘That’s fantastic, Edie,’ Mr Zhu said. ‘Thank you for sharing that with us.’

  I grinned.

  Mr Zhu rocked back on his heels. ‘Now, who wants to watch a video on recycling plants?’

  ‘Me!’ the class yelled.

  As Mr Zhu fiddled with the remote control and scratched his head, the wheels in my brain started turning.

  Slime, cookies and roses hadn’t been able to win over my classmates. But maybe, just maybe, a recycling project could.

  As soon as I’d eaten my lunch, I bounded up to the teacher on duty to grab a rubbish bag.

  ‘You’re not on litter duty any more, are you, Edie?’ she asked, her brow furrowed.

  I startled – the teacher knew my name? I was pretty sure I’d never seen her before. She had long brown hair, and her dress was splattered with specks of paint. (She was a Prep teacher, most likely.) I guess that’s one advantage to ending up in trouble with the principal so often – all the teachers quickly learn your name.

  ‘No, I’m not on litter duty. I’m just keen to do my bit for the environment.’

  ‘Well, good on you.’ She held out the rubbish bag. ‘Our school could benefit from more eco-conscious students like you.’

  I smiled to myself. She’d be super impressed once she saw my fort. I grabbed the bag and got straight to work.

  However, after ten minutes of searching, I’d only managed to find three plastic bottles (including two I’d found in garbage bins). I guess it made sense – the tuckshop only sold juice in cardboard poppers and milk in cartons – but it was not helpful for my construction plans.

  Luckily, a creative scientist like me will always come up with a solution. As I scouted around the fence and under the bench seats by the jacaranda trees, I had a brainwave. I didn’t have enough plastic bottles . . . but did I really need to use bottles? Surely, any old rubbish would do? I could still make an awesome recycled fort.

  I searched the playground until I had a full bag of rubbish, then found the perfect construction spot behind the boys’ toilet block. This was the best location for two reasons:

  It was one of the least windy locations on the playground. (I’d had a chance to monitor wind-speed variations during my litter duty earlier that week.)

  Teachers tended to avoid it. (No surprises there.)

  With the location and construction materials sorted, I emptied my litter bag and set to work categorising it into piles along the toilet block wall: cardboards (juice poppers, milk cartons), soft plastics (cling wrap, muesli bar wrappers), and food scraps (banana peels, apple cores and pretty much everything else).

  Once I’d sorted the litter, I reached a standstill. The man on Ecowarriors had used cement to glue the bottles together, but I didn’t have any of that on hand. I had sticky tape in my science kit, but I didn’t think it would be very useful for binding together the variety of rubbish I’d collected. (Sticky tape doesn’t adhere particularly well to banana peels. This was something I’d learned in the past.)

  However, I did have something else to assist me – unlimited dirt and an unsupervised tap behind the tuckshop.

  My Rubbish Repurposed Experiment could be a combination litter and mud fort!

  ‘This is going to be amazing,’ I said to myself, as I set about levelling the ground with my maths textbook. (Mum was always saying maths has a use in everyday life – it turns out she’s right!) Then I started on my first layer of brickwork, using the heaviest cardboards on the bottom, and working upwards with the lighter pieces of litter.

  I’d only completed about fifteen centimetres of the fort’s four walls when the bell rang.

  ‘Bummer!’ I frowned. Fort construction was very time-consuming. I’d really been hoping to have it all finished by the end of lunchtime, to show Annie B and the rest of my class.

  Oh well. I ran off to rinse my hands (and textbook) before maths class. The fort would have to wait. I’d already waited two weeks to make friends at school, I guess I could last another twenty-four hours.

  That afternoon after school, I distracted myself from thinking about my unfinished fort project by testing swing levels in the backyard.

  ‘Look how high I am, Max!’ I called, as I kicked my feet up in line with the lowest branches of the jacaranda tree.

  Max didn’t look up from his trucks. (I’ve noticed that Max has a high concentration span for things with wheels. It’s something I’m planning to investigate further one day.)

  I’d reached the peak of my swing trajectory, in line with the middle jacaranda branches, when Joe’s back door slammed. He shuffled down the stairs wearing his raggedy-red gardening hat, his pruners in hand.

  Perfect, I thought to myself, slowing down the swing. I’d been meaning to smooth things over with him after the roses incident, but hadn’t seen him around for a while.

  I skipped over and leaned against the side fence for a neighbourly conversation.

  ‘How have you been feeling lately, Joe?’ I enquired.

  He barely looked up from his pruning. ‘Hmm . . . fine.’ But he didn’t sound fine, that’s for sure.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ I sympathised. ‘Wrinkled clothing again?’ I nodded my head the way Mum did when Dad complained about people at work who left splotches of food in the microwave.

  But Joe didn’t smile and sigh like Dad did. Instead he looked up sharply. ‘Wrinkled clothing?’ He glanced down at his shirt then glared back at me. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Oh, you know.’ I shifted from one foot to the other. ‘On Monday, when I borrowed your roses? Dad said your knickers were in a knot?’

  I thought he’d appreciate an enquiry into his health, but his face turned beetroot red.

  ‘Young kids these days,’ he grumbled, shaking his head. ‘So rude.’ He turned back to his lavender bush and snipped at the heads with even more vigour.

  So much for that idea.

  When I mentioned the incident to Dad later that evening, his face turned white. ‘Oh Edie, you didn’t!’ He slapped his hand against his forehead.

  I tilted my head to the side. ‘What’s wrong? I was just trying to be nice.’

  When Dad explained the meaning of ‘knickers in a knot’, I felt pretty silly. How was I supposed to know it meant someone was cranky?

  On the plus side, I’m now collating a list of banned conversation topics, so I can avoid annoying any adults in the future.

  The next day in class, I set the second stage of my Rubbish Repurposed Experiment in motion.

  ‘Hey, Annie B,’ I whispered while Mr Zhu was writing on the whiteboard. Or rather, he was writing, scratching his h
ead, writing a little more, glancing down at his textbook, then scrubbing a couple of words out again and starting over. Since joining Mr Zhu’s class, I’d learned the meaning of ‘two steps forward, one step back’, that’s for sure.

  I leaned across the desk. ‘Do you want to see my recycling project at lunchtime?’

  Annie B’s eyes lit up. ‘A recycling project? Cool!’ She smiled. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s a surprise.’ I grinned. ‘But I’m pretty sure you’re going to love it.’

  Ollie, who sits on the other side of Annie B, looked up. ‘Can I see it too?’

  ‘Definitely!’ I said. ‘Everyone’s welcome. Meet me behind the boys’ toilet block at 1.30 pm.’

  I couldn’t wait to impress everyone with my amazing fort. It was going to be epic.

  By the time it got to 1.20 pm, I’d managed to build up each of the four walls to a one-metre height.

  ‘Done!’ I said to myself, wiping my muddy hands on the grass.

  The fort looked pretty awesome, if I did say so myself. Sure, it would’ve been even better if it were two metres high, complete with a roof and everything (which is what I’d originally planned), but the construction process was way more time-consuming than I’d expected. It had taken the best part of two lunchtimes to get to bellybutton height, so that would have to do. Even if it wasn’t as big as I’d imagined, the compacted mud walls with their patchwork of litter looked pretty cool.

  All in all, I was confident it would be the perfect playhouse for an eco-conscious Year Five class. And, more importantly, the perfect way to my classmates’ hearts.

  I sprinted over to the swing set, where Annie B and a few other girls were playing, including Emily James.

  ‘Hi, Edie,’ Annie B said brightly. ‘Is your project ready?’

  ‘Sure is!’ I beamed.

  Emily James narrowed her eyes, twisting a blonde coil around her index finger. ‘What project?’

  ‘Edie has a recycling project to show us!’ Annie B skipped over.

  ‘Oh really?’ Emily James’s eyebrows shot up. ‘All right, let’s see it then.’

  We ran towards the toilet block, collecting Ollie, Ling and a few more of my classmates as we went.

  ‘It’s behind here,’ I said breathlessly, as we made our way around the toilet block. ‘Our very own recycled for–’

  I stopped, my legs suddenly turned to lead. ‘Oh no.’

  In the middle of my construction zone, where my amazing fort of recyclables had stood only a few minutes before, was a hive of small kids. They were tearing down my carefully built construction with their bare hands, then running around and slopping handfuls of mud onto one another.

  ‘Yee-haaa!’ cried a girl with long hair, as she ran towards a boy and smacked a pile of mud onto his back.

  ‘Hey! I’ll get you back!’ He grabbed two handfuls off my eastern wall and tore after her. He slopped one onto her hat and the other onto a boy’s leg.

  ‘I’m outta here.’ Ling, who I’ve come to realise is a very neat and tidy person, bolted back around the toilet block.

  Ollie, on the other hand, was super excited. ‘Yippeeeee!’ he cried, running straight for the mud pit.

  ‘Duck!’ yelled Annie B, as a pile of mud came straight for us. We jumped out of the way and it splattered on the brick wall behind us.

  ‘Disgusting!’ Emily James stared in horror as the mud missile slid down the bricks. ‘What is that?’ She pointed at a piece of plastic wrap sticking out from the mud. ‘Is that rubbish? That’s so gross.’ She crossed her arms.

  I didn’t have time to explain. ‘STOP!’ I shouted, running over to what was left of my fort. ‘This is an eco building!’

  But the kids weren’t listening. They buzzed around the fort like flies at a barbecue. They laughed and shouted as they grabbed handfuls of mud and chased one another.

  I positioned myself in front of what was left of the northern wall, and tried to shoo the children away. ‘Stop touching it! Go away!’

  ‘Aww, come on, Edie. Don’t be a party pooper. This is fun!’ Ollie had two streaks of mud across his cheeks, and was sitting on the ground, carefully sculpting a ball of mud.

  ‘Yeah, outta the way,’ said a small boy with bright green eyes, who seemed to be the ringleader of the mud fight. ‘If you’re not gonna play, get outta here.’ He turned back to the fort and grabbed two handfuls of mud, then pelted them towards two boys standing nearby. They jumped out of the way, just in time. He cackled, grabbed another two handfuls and hurled them at a couple of kids on the other side of the fort. The speed at which he was pulling down my project and transforming it into missiles would’ve been impressive, if it hadn’t taken me so long to build.

  ‘This is my fort!’ I marched up to him. ‘Stop it right now!’

  ‘Your fort? I don’t think so.’ He shook his head. ‘We found it, fair and square.’

  He grabbed a handful of mud and planted it straight on my forearm. A piece of mandarin peel slid down my arm, landing at my feet.

  ‘Ew! Edie got hit!’ Emily James’s shrill voice rang through the air. She and Annie B were sheltering behind a jacaranda tree. Emily James was doubled-over laughing, and Annie B was watching with wide eyes. The rest of my classmates had disappeared, aside from Ollie. He was still rapidly sculpting balls of mud, which a group of Year Three girls were using as ammunition.

  I looked down at my muddy arm, then back up at the green-eyed boy. My face went hot. ‘How dare you?’ I grabbed a pile of mud and slopped it onto the boy’s shirtsleeve. He laughed, scooped another handful off the fort and aimed it at my head.

  And just like that, I was in on it too.

  Mud and litter flew left, right and centre. Kids screamed, ran and slopped mud onto any available surface. My precious eco fort was rapidly transformed into a messy, mucky mud pit.

  It was disgusting. It was infuriating!

  But, as I ran around, slopping mud onto kids’ backs and dodging handfuls aimed my way, I discovered something . . .

  It was fun! Really fun.

  Until suddenly it wasn’t.

  ‘FREEEEEZE!’ a deep voice boomed from behind us.

  We froze. Even the green-eyed ringleader stopped, just as he was about to drop a handful of mud and banana peels onto Ollie’s head.

  It was Mr Zhu, and he wasn’t happy. He stormed to the centre of the war zone, looking left and right in disgust. My stomach twisted as I noticed his crisp white shirt was smattered with mud and what looked like remnants of apple cores. (Although I couldn’t be sure – they looked pretty rotten, whatever they were.)

  He stood next to the muddy ruins, his hands on his hips. He did that thing adults do where their voice escalates to super-human levels, and fire practically blazes from their eyes. ‘WHO STARTED THIS?’

  It was like he was a completely different person. The Mr Zhu who’d dismissed us for lunch with a conga line of high-fives had been replaced by a dragon.

  Nobody moved.

  He kicked a piece of cardboard with his shoe, shaking his head. ‘Where did all this . . . rubbish . . . come from?’

  The kids looked at one another. The green-eyed ringleader shrugged. ‘It was here already.’

  Ollie glanced at me, then quickly looked away.

  I sighed, and slowly raised my hand.

  Mr Zhu’s jaw dropped. ‘Edie?’ The disappointment in his voice sent my heart plummeting.

  ‘Gross!’ squealed Emily James from her spot behind the jacaranda tree. ‘Edie is totally disgusting!’

  ‘I can explain –’ I started, but Mr Zhu shook his head.

  ‘Ms Newton’s office, now!’

  By the time Mr Zhu gave Ms Newton the rundown, her face was set in a deep frown. The offer to try out my moisturiser tingled at the tip of my tongue, but I clamped my mouth shut.

  ‘This is serious, Edie.’ Ms Newton tapped her chihuahua-tipped pen on the desk. ‘I’m very disappointed in your behaviour, young lady.’ The funny look on the chihuahua’
s face would’ve made me smile if I hadn’t been facing yet another punishment. What would it be this time, I wondered. Litter duty for a year? Detention for a decade?

  Jail?

  ‘It was an eco fort,’ I explained. ‘It wasn’t meant to be a mud fight.’

  Ms Newton raised an eyebrow.

  ‘It’s not my fault!’ I insisted. ‘The other kids started it!’ Why was I always the one getting into trouble?

  ‘Those students will be dealt with, don’t you worry. It’s you I’m concerned with at the moment.’

  She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. ‘This is your third time in my office, Edie. I’m afraid one of your parents will have to come to the school for a chat.’

  I nodded sadly, and sat looking at my shoes while Ms Newton called home.

  This time, both Mum and Dad were working. I was hoping that would mean I’d be let off the hook, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case.

  ‘Your mother is coming straight from work,’ said Ms Newton, after she put the phone down. ‘You can wait outside my office.’

  As I sat outside on the hard bench again, I tried to distract myself from my impending doom.

  ‘Have you thought about putting some cushions here?’ I asked Ms Newton’s receptionist. I patted the bare seat. ‘It would make it much more comfortable, not to mention more pleasing to the eye.’

  He just looked at me like I was a piece of chewing gum stuck to his shoe, then turned back to his computer.

  Mum turned up twenty minutes later, and was ushered straight into Ms Newton’s office. She gave me a small smile and squeezed my hand on her way past, but I could see from the look in her eyes that she was disappointed.

  My stomach sank.

  When I was called back in, Mum’s shoulders were tense and Ms Newton was frowning. Even the chihuahuas in the photographs on her wall looked like they were cross.

  ‘Sit down, please, Edie,’ said Ms Newton. ‘Your mother and I have had a discussion.’ She looked over her glasses at me. ‘We’ve agreed it’s time for you to start a Positive Behaviour Plan.’ She tapped a thick binder on her desk, which had ‘PBP’ on the front in thick letters.