Free Mira in the Present Tense by Sita Brahmachari Page A

at the front, he’s not wearing his tie, and his shirt is all hanging out. I blush again, even though there is no way on earth that Jidé Jackson can know how much I’ve been thinking about him, even dreaming about him…One day someone will make a fortune inventing an anti-blushing device. Whenever you feel one coming on, you could just press a button and stop it in its tracks.
    â€œYou’ll have to read my book if you want to find that out. I collect strays!” Pat says, smiling at me.
    It’s weird how that happens. Before last week I had never heard of anyone actually being called Moses, apart from Moses in the Bible, and now within one week I’ve met Eco-Endings Moses and sheepdog Moses.
    â€œSo what have you all found out about your names?” Pat asks. That’s when I remember what we were supposed to do. She looks around the room, letting her eyes rest on Jidé.
    â€œMy full name is BabaJidé. It’s an African name…it means ‘father has returned,’ that’s what Jai, my dad, told me anyway. He said Grace liked the ‘Baba’ bit when I was a baby, but when I started to grow up they dropped ‘Baba’ and just called me Jidé, and Mum says it goes well with Dad’s name…Jai.”
    I think it sounds really weird calling your mum and dad by their first names, especially when your mum’s a teacher at school…she’s Ms. Jackson to everyone else.
    â€œInteresting, isn’t it, how some names are better for babies and others feel too grown up to call an infant,” Pat Print comments.
    Jidé doesn’t reply. He seems lost in his own thoughts so Pat Print turns her attention on Ben. He’s funny because he just launches into things; he often makes me jump. I peer over his shoulder at his notebook. Ben always does as little work as he can get away with. He’s got about three notes written down, that’s all, but he tells Pat Print this whole epic story of his name, hardly even glancing at his book. He seems to have no nerves at all.
    â€œWell, my mum and dad couldn’t decide what to call me. They couldn’t even agree on any names they both liked before I was born. My mum’s Irish and my dad’s Nigerian…that’s where my surname ‘Gbemi’ comes from…Nigeria. Dad told me that ‘Gbemi’ means ‘favored one.’ A long time ago the name used to be ‘Fagbemi,’ which means something like ‘favored by the oracle,’ but somewhere along the line, we dropped the ‘Fa’ bit. My mum thought I should have an Irish first name but Dad wanted a Nigerian one, and even after I was born they still couldn’t agree. So Mum says she just lay in the hospital bed thinking about what to call me. Then one day she looked up at Big Ben, because Mum was in the hospital just opposite, and she thought, That’s it . The answer had been staring her in the face and blasting her ears all that time. That’s why she called me Ben, and Dad said it sounded good with Gbemi. So that’s it; that’s why I’m called Ben Gbemi.”
    Ben definitely speaks as though he’s projecting his voice across London. He’s tall too, probably the tallest boy in year seven.
    Pat has been smiling all the way through Ben’s explanation.
    â€œBig Ben! I’m predicting a bold career in broadcasting for you!”
    â€œWhat’s broadcasting?” asks Ben.
    â€œI’m thinking…you could be a presenter, no, maybe more daring…a journalist reporting while battling against the elements, earthquakes, or storms, or even in a warzone…surviving against all odds and still bringing us the news.” Pat Print is obviously enjoying herself making up a story for Ben’s life.
    Jidé laughs and slaps Ben across the back.
    You can’t help but smile, because you can just see Ben Gbemi in a job like that.
    â€œWhich comes first—the