Free The Day the Ear Fell Off by T.M. Alexander Page B

‘Dad’.
    JONNO: Every time he starts a new school
    FIFTY: Knows all the words to The Sound of Music and sang along when we watched it at school.
    COPPER PIE: The sleepover when Keener found Trumpet the elephant under C.P.’s pillow
    We didn’t get a chance to talk about how the Tribe initiation Treats, Talk or Torture (Fifty came up with that) was actually going to work because Fifty and Bee went off
to play with Flo, who was mattress surfing. (She drags the spare mattress up the stairs to the top landing, piles all her favourite cuddly toys on it and then slides down. It always ends in tears
because the cuddlies fall off, or Flo does.)
    ‘You wouldn’t be sliding on that mattress again, would you, Flo?’ shouted Mum. ‘Not after the banister nearly dislocated your elbow.’
    ‘No, Mummy,’ shouted Flo. ‘Keener’s friends are doing it.’
    We did the Tribe handshake: one, two, three, and then everyone legged it.
    ‘I’ve got a lot to get ready,’ said Copper Pie.
    They’d decided to attack the alley the next day. I didn’t remember agreeing but . . .
    ‘And I need to get cake-making.’
    Bee makes incredibly delicious cakes. She can cook all sorts of things. Her dad and her brothers don’t do anything in the kitchen. Bee complains because boys should learn to cook too but
her mum doesn’t agree. Neither do I. I’d much rather eat them.
    I had hoped that Fifty would stay behind because we had a problem . . . Going down the alley after school wasn’t going to be easy if I was on the way home in the back of the car with Flo,
and Fifty was with his mum and Probably Rose. We needed to invent a reason why we didn’t need picking up.
    It was strange that I hadn’t heard his mum come to get him. I looked out of my bedroom window in case he was waiting outside. Nope. I was about to check downstairs when I noticed a
Fifty-sized shape quite far up the street walking along with Jonno (I could tell by the hair). No mums in sight.
    That decided me. We’d talked about it for long enough. If Fifty had somehow managed to persuade his mum to let him walk around on his own, then it was time I stood up to my mum. If
you’re prepared to confront an alley full of girls, all older than you, then dealing with your own mum can’t be that hard. I thought I’d try and find that Keener of Tribe voice
again – the one that was a bit louder.
    As I was in a deciding mood, I decided something else too. Rather than lying in bed worrying about Treats, Talk or Torture, which is what I would usually do, I thought I’d try something
Fifty’s mum had suggested. (Her job is to do with making people think differently so that they’re happier or richer or have less headaches or something.) She said that when I hear the
voice in my head saying worrying things, I could remind myself that it’s not real, it’s just worry. The voice could just as easily say good things, or sing, or say rubbish words like
‘compodasty’.
    Worrying makes no difference to whether things turn out right or not.
    I made up loads of excellent rubbish words after that and totally forgot to worry.
    My favourite rubbish word: ‘flimflog’.

treats, talk or torture
    I walked to school on my own. Not with Fifty. Not with anyone. Result! It happened at breakfast:
    Me: ‘Mum, I want to start walking to school and back.’
    Mum: ‘I think it’s marvellous that you want to be independent, and of course the exercise would do you good, but —’
    Me: ‘I know all the reasons but I’m Year 6. I’m sensible. And I don’t want to be the only one of my friends who has to go with his mum.’
    Amy: ‘Let him, Mum.’
    Mum: ‘If you’d both let me finish. I was about to say that I’ve spoken to Fifty’s mum and we agreed it was time, BUT to start with, I’d like
     you to text me when you get there and make sure you’re home by half past four.’
    Me: ‘Oh!’
    Amy: ‘Is that all you can say?’
    Me: ‘Can I start today?’
    Mum nodded.
    Amy: