Blabber Mouth Read Free Page A

myself.
    It’s the soap that’s doing it.
    It’s making me think of the time Erin and me put soap in the carrot soup at our school and watched everyone dribble it down their fronts, even the kids who didn’t normally dribble.
    This is dumb, it’s over one year and two months since she died, I shouldn’t be feeling like this.
    I tell you what, if I ever have another best friend I’m going to make sure she wasn’t born with a dicky heart and lungs.
    If I ever have another best friend I’m going to make her take a medical before we start.
    If I ever have one.

Dad said today’d be better than yesterday because he reckons second days at new schools are always better than first days.
    He was right.
    Just.
    It started off worse, but.
    When I walked through the gate, all the kids stared and backed away, even the ones from other classes.
    Then I had to go and see the principal, Mr Fowler, in his office.
    He seemed quite tense. The skin on the top of his head was pink and when he stood up to take the tube of antiseptic cream out of his shorts pocket his knees were fairly pink too, which I’ve read is a danger sign for blood pressure if you’re not sunburnt.
    â€˜Rowena,’ he began, rubbing some of the cream onto his grazed knuckles, ‘Ms Dunning has told me what happened in class yesterday and Darryn Peck has been spoken to. I know this move to a normal school isn’t easy for you, but that does not excuse your behaviour yesterday and I do not want a repeat of it, do you understand?’
    I nodded. I wanted to tell him you shouldn’t use too much cream, Dad reckons it’s better to let the air get to a graze and dry it out, but I didn’t in case he’d studied antiseptic creams at university or something.
    â€˜Rowena,’ Mr Fowler went on, examining the graze closely, ‘if there are any problems with your father, such as, for example, him drinking too much, you know you can tell me or Ms Dunning about it, don’t you?’
    I got my pen and pad out of my school bag and wrote Mr Fowler a short note explaining that Dad gave up drinking four years ago after he’d had one too many and accidentally spilled seventy cases of Granny Smiths in the main street of our last town.
    Mr Fowler read the note twice, and I thought he was going to criticise my spelling, but he just nodded and said, ‘That’s all, Rowena’.
    He still seemed pretty tense.
    Perhaps he’d discovered his graze was going soggy.
    In class everyone stared when I walked in, except Ms Dunning who smiled.
    â€˜Ah, Rowena,’ she said, ‘you’re just in time.’
    I went over to her desk and wrote a note on my pad asking if I could say something to the class.
    She looked surprised, but said yes.
    My hands were shaking so much I could hardly pick up the chalk, but I managed.
    â€˜Sorry about yesterday,’ I wrote on the board. “I’ll pay for the frog.’
    My hands were still shaking when I turned back to the class.
    I was relieved to see none of the kids were backing away, and some were even smiling.
    â€˜It’s OK, Rowena,’ said Ms Dunning, ‘the frog survived.’
    The class laughed. Except Darryn Peck up the back who scowled at me.
    â€˜Thank you for that, Rowena,’ said Ms Dunning.
    I turned back to the board and wrote ‘My friends call me Ro’, and went back to my seat.
    The girl next to me smiled, and suddenly I felt really good. Then I realised she was smiling at somebody over my left shoulder.
    â€˜OK, Ro,’ said Ms Dunning, ‘you’re just in time for the sports carnival nominations.’
    She explained about tomorrow being the school sports carnival and, because it’s a small school, everyone having to take part.
    â€˜Right,’ she said, ‘who wants to be in the javelin?’
    I didn’t put my hand up for anything because I didn’t want to seem too pushy and aggressive,