Blabber Mouth Read Free Page B

not so soon after the frog. Plus you never win friends at sports carnivals. If you come first people think you’re a show-off, if you come last they think you’re a dork, and if you come in the middle they don’t notice you.
    â€˜One hundred metres, boys,’ said Ms Dunning and just about every boy in the class stuck his hand up. When she’d finished writing down all the names, she said ‘One hundred metres, girls’.
    No one moved.
    Then the whole class turned and looked at a girl sitting on the other side of the room.
    I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed her before because she’s got the most ringlets I’ve ever seen on one human head in my life. The colour’s fairly ordinary, barbecue-sauce-brown, but the curls are amazing. She must keep a whole hairdressing salon in business just by herself.
    Everyone watched as she looked embarrassed and raised her hand.
    â€˜Amanda Cosgrove,’ smiled Ms Dunning, writing on her list. ‘Who else?’
    No one moved.
    â€˜Come on,’ said Ms Dunning, ‘Amanda can’t run the race by herself.’
    Amanda was looking even more embarrassed now.
    Must be another new kid, I thought. I wondered what she’d done to make everyone not want to race with her, and whether it had involved jamming something in Darryn Peck’s mouth.
    She was looking so uncomfortable I found myself feeling sorry for her.
    Which must have been why I put my hand up.
    â€˜Rowena Batts,’ said Ms Dunning, writing down my name. ‘Good on you, Ro. Now, who’s going to follow Ro’s example?’
    No one moved.
    â€˜OK,’ sighed Ms Dunning, ‘I’ll have to choose some volunteers.’
    While she did, and the people she chose groaned and rolled their eyes, the girl next to me scribbled a note and passed it over.
    I thought for a moment she’d got it wrong and thought I was deaf, but then I remembered that you’re not meant to talk in class in normal schools.
    I read the note.
    â€˜Amanda Cosgrove,’ it said, ‘is the 100 metres champion of the whole school.’
    I smiled to myself. At least tomorrow people won’t be thinking I’m a show-off. And as the rest of the people were dragged into the race, and it’s really hard to sulk and run at the same time, I can probably manage not to come last.
    My heart didn’t sink until several minutes later.
    When Ms Dunning reminded everyone that sports carnivals are family events, and she’s hoping to see as many parents there as possible.
    Since then I’ve been feeling a bit tense. Nothing serious, my knees aren’t pink or anything, but I’ve got a bit of a knot in the guts. Not Tasmania or anything, but Lord Howe Island.
    The other kids keep looking at me a bit strangely, so it must be showing.
    Ms Dunning even asked if I’m feeling OK.
    I reached for my notepad, then had second thoughts and just smiled and nodded.
    I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the truth.
    That I keep having horrible visions of Dad in the middle of the oval singing to everyone, and everyone backing away.

I thought about not telling him.
    I didn’t tell him all the way home in the truck.
    By the time we got home I felt terrible.
    Here’s Dad busting a gut moving us here and fixing up the house and knocking the new orchard into shape, all so I can go to a proper school and live at home, and here’s me not even inviting him to the first chance he’s really had to meet people in our new town.
    OK, second chance if you count the conversation he had with the man in the milk bar about how if the man didn’t want people to cheer and thump the wall he shouldn’t have got a video game in the first place.
    I mean, Dad gets lonely too.
    He doesn’t talk about it, but he must do.
    He’s left all his friends behind as well, including girlfriends.
    All for me.
    Even before we left he always put me first. He never invited his