Henry Hoey Hobson Read Free Page A

complete silence, in the stinking heat of a Brisbane February, our message gradually taking shape.
    The thousands of cars that roared along the six-lane arterial road bordering the school were about to give thanks for Perpetual Suckers’ Thought for the Day.
    TODAY’S A GIFT
    THAT’S WHY
    WE CALL IT
    THE PRESENT
    I had to get out of this school. I really did. But first I had to make it through the day, then go home and kill my mother.

CHAPTER FOUR
    The relief teacher went into a flat spin when I walked back in with the principal in tow. Mr Paulson settled her down with a calming hand.
    â€˜Sorry to interrupt, Ms Sanders. I’ve just been showing Henry around on his first day. Thought I’d take the opportunity to introduce him to the whole class, now that they’re all together. Good morning, girls and boys.’
    â€˜Good morning, Mr Paulson. May God smile on you.’
    I blinked in surprise. Either I was seeing double or Perpetual Suckers’ senior class had experienced a massive influx during first break. Not only that, there were a few boys clumped in the centre of the room. I turned to Mr Paulson, wondering if he had magicked them into existence after our talk.
    He smiled and leaned closer, his voice pitched low, for my ear only. ‘It was the Grade Six boys’ turn to set up for Assembly when you arrived this morning, and I take their class for Maths straight afterwards, so you wouldn’t have had a chance to meet everyone. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the other boys in the Six/Seven Composite.’
    I nodded my way through the introductions and sat down, automatically sizing the situation up and analysing it for Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities and Threats.
    I’d learned this SWOT technique from Mum’s most boring friend ever. Weird Wally the Businessman. I could barely remember his face. Something squishy above a well-knotted tie. But he’d taught me the SWOT analysis and for that I would always be in his debt.
    If it hadn’t actually helped me fit in, at least it had helped explain why I didn’t.
    Strengths : the other three boys in our Six/Seven composite class were all younger, and a grade below me. That made me top man on the totem pole. The concept was so novel, I was having trouble getting my head around it. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to have greatness foisted upon me.
    Weaknesses : none of that altered the fact that I was the only boy in Year Seven. I’d still have to run my own race – literally, at sports carnivals. And I’d have to find a way to contend with the pack of young lionesses twitching their tails in my peripheral vision. Add to that the fact that I was an abandoned son of a deadbeat dad, and the only offspring of a mum who was a little too in touch with her inner flibbertigibbet, and who was currently attempting to scramble up the corporate ladder in a skirt that was too short and way too tight for the job. That was the trouble with weaknesses – they really weighed down the old SWOT analysis.
    Opportunities : the upside of being a bit of a lonely bugger was that there was no competition at my level. Maybe, for once, I could attempt to hone my leadership skills; see if my social skills worked better in a vacuum.
    Threats : only one big one that I could foresee–
    â€˜Now girls, if I could have your attention for a moment...’
    Twenty-odd pigtailed, braided, cropped and headbanded heads turned towards their principal. He had these kids well trained, I had to give him that.
    â€˜As you know, we have a new student in Year Seven. Henry was expecting to join a small cohort of senior boys at our school and unfortunately things haven’t quite worked out as planned.’
    Masterly understatement, Mr Paulson.
    â€˜Henry could really use some friends and I can see that our Year Six boys are all eager to take on that role–’ he smiled at the rabbit-toothed, mop-headed and