Free Balaclava Boy by Jenny Robson Page B

was stupid and boring at the moment. Who cares where maize gets grown? Who cares when apples get ripe?
    â€œFirst 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
    â€œSo, 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!
    â€œAnd 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.
    â€œThat’s strange, Doogz,” Dumisani said. “I thought Cherise said we shouldn’t be nosey.”
    â€œYeah, 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.”
    â€œBecause?” 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.”
    â€˜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?”