Free Spud - Learning to Fly by John Van De Ruit Page B

He strode over to his bookshelf. ‘I’m giving you this.’ He dropped a book into my waiting hands and with one hand on my shoulder said, ‘I want you to have it. Read it once a decade until your restlessness dies and you become an old drunken hermit.’ He then guided me out of the classroom with his hand on my shoulder. He said, ‘It defined my generation, old boy. It awoke my wanderlust and made me ceaselessly unhappy. I wish you greater fortune with it.’
    I began reading Jack Kerouac’s novel called
On The Road
on the cobbled path back to the house. I think I’m going to like it.

Friday 21st February
    Spent all afternoon with Fatty in the archives. Perched up in the northern turret overlooking the quadrangle I felt strangely peaceful and protected from the general madness of the school. I complimented Fatty on the work he’s done fixing the place up. He blushed and led me past a shelf labelled POSSIBLE MYSTERIES. The shelf above it was called DEFINITE MYSTERIES and the very top shelf was COMPLETE MYSTERIES.
    Other shelf headings included SCANDALS, LIGHTNING STRIKES, MCARTHUR SIGHTINGS, GENERAL GHOST SIGHTINGS, and SEXY BABES. (Fatty admitted that he only made the SEXY BABES shelf to keep Boggo busy while Fatty works on the archives.)
    ‘The teachers never come up here,’ said Fatty. ‘In fact nobody really ever comes up here except for Boggo and Sidewinder.’
    The small gingery face of Sidewinder suddenly appeared from behind a shelf called SUICIDE & UNEXPLAINED DEATH. Fatty pointed at the small boy and said, ‘Oh, Spud, you know Sidewinder.’ Sidewinder waved nervously and said, ‘Afternoon, sir.’
    ‘Afternoon, Sidewinder,’ I replied in a formal voice. Fatty explained that the new boy was helping out with general filing and then ordered him off to make us tea and an egg mayonnaise sandwich. Sidewinder seemed desperately eager to please and scampered down the thin turret staircase like his life depended on it. When the first year was gone, Fatty winked at me and whispered, ‘He thinks I’m a prefect – how cool is that?’
    Turns out that Sidewinder is being bullied by Pike, JR Ewing and Thinny and is more than happy to help Fatty with his archives in return for a place of safety for the afternoons and early evenings. Fatty collapsed into an old armchair with a groan and said, ‘Feel free to pull in. It makes a good hideaway when things in the house get a tad intense.’ I tried to thank Fatty for the open invite but he interrupted me with: ‘You can even write your diary here. I mean … if you want to. It’s nice for me to … you know … like, have some company.’
    He then pointed out a quotation that he had stuck to the wall with pink chewing gum.
    ‘History does not repeat itself. Historians repeat each other.’
A J Balfour
    ‘How symbolic is that?’ he said proudly like he had written the words himself.

Sunday 23rd February
    Bad news for Boggo was that the choir was singing at Evensong. He looked mortified and buried his head in his hymnbook as the choir processed down the aisle. I enjoyed his embarrassment immensely.
    I nailed a hole-in-one during a high stakes putting competition just before lights out. Rambo said my putting stroke resembled that of somebody called Dick Faldo. Everyone packed up laughing after that, so now feeling less positive than before.

Monday 24th February
    After lunch I retired to the bogs to examine my face. I have a nasty looking pimple on my forehead and a smaller one in the cleft of my chin. There seems to be no good reason for bringing my razor back to school and my hair is dull and brown and a little on the thatchy side. No wonder girls are giving me bat left, right and centre. I wouldn’t want to kiss this face either.
    To make matters worse, Vern skulked out of the bogs tapping his stopwatch as if I had committed some dreadful sin. Then he fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a pad of yellow slips. He furiously began scribbling and signing,