Read Mis-fit, Misplaced, Miss Shelly Clover Page 12

I have several objectives for today which I consider carefully while I shower:

  Stay alive; don’t let anyone see this tattoo; find out about the history of the Printing Press; be very courageous and talk to a male adult and convince him to talk to me; find out the meaning behind nursery rhymes; pray that Camille has been excluded; pray that Evelyn is bunking; hand in my dream diary to my English teacher (making sure Dezza has copied my dreams up in his own words first), oh, and generally stay alive.

  Quite-a-day.

  I feel apprehensive already as I try washing off my new tattoo. Dutch Courage? Any courage will do, never mind Dutch.

  Within ten minutes, I’m on my yellow bicycle, with my green helmet, my broken wrist watch, my green rucksack on my back; its strap hastily repaired with masking tape that we keep next to the kitchen window (with sets of flat-pack cardboard) in case of emergency breakages.

  The sky is blue. There’s a light sea breeze and sea-gulls fly overhead.

  In just ten minutes, I’m at Jacobsfield High, fastening my bike with the bulky, lockless chain that I keep wrapped around the frame. I twist and contort it around top tube, around both wheels and then tie it tightly to the railings. I’m just as good at unravelling it. An escapologist would be proud; I’ve perfected the art of tying and untying it over many years.

  ‘Wagwan, Clover?'

  The sun is directly in my eyes as I turn and squint. Dezza’s hair is particularly spikey today. I hand him my dream diary.

  ‘Oh Crap! I completely...’

  ‘...forgot that the homework is in today.’ I chuckle.

  ‘Make sure that you change the chess pieces to people that you know and change the ending...and don’t forget to hand mine in when you’re finished. You got all that?’

  Dezza looks blank.

  ‘The chess pieces - to which I have just referred - were in my dream last night’. I thrust the diary into his arms.

  ‘Eh?’ Is all he can manage in response.

  ‘Good. That will do.’

  I grab him by the arm and we walk towards the old entrance to the school. He’s as soft as a brush, but his sheer size will deter any bullies from harassing me…for now.