Just Tricking! Read Free Page A

bowl to Mr Bainbridge.
    Now that the roach is on my plate, all I have to do is get it into my pocket before anybody notices.
    But first I have to distract them.
    â€˜What a beautiful landscape!’ I point to a painting on the wall above Mum’s head.
    Everybody turns to look.
    I lift up the piece of lettuce. But the cockroach has other ideas.
    It’s not dead.
    It jumps off the lettuce leaf onto the table and starts running.
    Straight towards me.
    The roach reaches the edge of the table and tumbles onto my lap. I try to brush it onto the floor, but it disappears underneath my napkin.
    Luckily, the others are all still studying the painting. Nobody else has seen the roach’s 30-centimetre sprint. I discreetly lift the corner of my napkin to see where the roach has got to, but it’s not there. I feel a gentle pricking on my stomach. It’s underneath my shirt!

    I freeze. The roach crawls around my side and onto my back.
    I guess I could crush it by throwing myself back hard against the chair. It would probably work, but it might take more than one go to actually kill it and this could give Mr and Mrs Bainbridge the wrong impression. I don’t want them thinking I’ve lost my mind.
    â€˜Are you keen on painting, Andy?’ asks Mrs Bainbridge.

    â€˜I like it,’ I say, ‘but I’m not very good at it.’ I’m trying hard not to panic.
    â€˜Ah!’ says Mr Bainbridge. ‘But practice makes perfect! If a fellow really wants to do something badly enough and he’s prepared to apply himself for long enough, then . . .’
    â€˜Yes dear,’ says Mrs Bainbridge. ‘That’s all very well, but perhaps Andy doesn’t want to be a painter. What are your favourite subjects, Andy?’
    I’m trying hard to concentrate on the conversation, but it’s not easy. The roach has relocated itself underneath my left arm. I can hardly breathe. It feels like it’s burrowing into my armpit.
    â€˜I guess I like English the best. Not too crazy about maths or science.’
    â€˜No, no, no!’ says Mr Bainbridge. ‘You don’t want to neglect your maths and science. Keep your options open, that’s what I say. Science and technology – that’s where the opportunities are.’
    Mrs Bainbridge rolls her eyes.
    I’d feel sorry for her if I wasn’t feeling so sorry for myself. I only have to put up with his bull for one night. She has to live with it.
    The roach has finished playing in my armpit and now I can feel it crawling down my chest. I can’t stand it any more.

    That damn roach could be laying eggs in my belly button for all I know. They’re probably incubating in my stomach right now. They’ll hatch inside me and burst out of my chest, like the face-hugger in ‘Alien.’
    I ask for directions to the toilet and excuse myself from the table.
    It’s roach-killing time.
    The bathroom is upstairs. I snib the door behind me and yank off my T-shirt. It flies across the room, skims the top of the toilet bowl, and lands in a heap beside it. But the roach is not on my chest.

    Or my back.
    Uh-oh – not a moment to lose!
    I kick my shoes off, and peel off my trousers and jocks in one swift movement.
    I’m completely naked – except for my socks – but I still can’t find the roach.

    There are only two places it can be – one of which is too horrible to even think about.
    I study the pile of clothes carefully. The roach emerges from the bottom of my jeans. It’s creeping up the left leg. I pick up one of my shoes. Very slowly – so that the roach doesn’t notice – and raise it high above my head.
    The roach reaches the bottom button of my fly.
    I take a deep breath.
    But something holds me back. If I smash it right there, I’m going to end up with its pasty white guts splattered all over the front of my jeans.

    Not cool.
    Might look like I’ve had an