Sticky Beak Read Free Page A

it.
    When I woke up this morning I decided to do something about mine.
    I grabbed my pen and tore a page off my drawing pad.
    At the top in big letters I wrote, ‘TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN’.
    Under it I wrote, ‘SORRY’.
    Then I had a think.
    I wanted to choose my words carefully because you don’t just scribble any old stuff when you’re apologising to two hundred people.
    It wasn’t easy to concentrate, what with Dad revving the tractor outside and Ms Dunning whistling really loudly to herself in the kitchen, but after a bit I decided on the right words.
    â€˜If the school insurance doesn’t cough up enough,’ I wrote, ‘send the extra dry-cleaning bills to me and I’ll fix you up. It might take a while cause I only get $2.50 pocket money, but I earn extra helping Dad in the orchard. Sorry for the inconvenience, yours faithfully, Rowena Batts. PS If there’s anything that won’t come out, bring the clothes round to our place. Dad knows how to shift problem stains using liquid fertiliser.’
    When I’d finished I went into the kitchen to ask Ms Dunning to check the spelling.
    She was standing at the stove reading the paper.
    â€˜Look at this,’ she said excitedly. ‘Carla Tam-worth’s singing at the showground, next Saturday.’
    â€˜I know,’ I said.
    â€˜Dad’ll be over the moon,’ she said.
    â€˜That’s right,’ I said.
    I didn’t remind her that Dad and me had already been over the moon two weeks ago when the ad first appeared in the paper.
    People who are having a baby in eight days go a bit vague, it’s a known fact. No point making her feel embarrassed.
    I made Ms Dunning take the weight off her feet while she checked my spelling and I did the eggs.
    I’ve told her a million times that when you’re having eggs with apple fritters the eggs should be runny, but she just can’t seem to grasp the idea. She probably will when she’s had the baby and her head clears, but.
    Ms Dunning finished reading my public notice and got up and came over and put her hand on my shoulder.
    â€˜Inconvenience doesn’t have an “s”,’ she said quietly. ‘Ro, it’s a good notice, but you don’t have to do this, you know.’
    I turned the heat down under the eggs and explained to her that in small country towns if you spray jelly onto people’s clothes, bitter feuds can erupt and fester for generations.
    She thought about that.
    Even brilliant teachers don’t know everything, specially when they’re originally from the city like Ms Dunning.
    â€˜If I don’t make amends now,’ I told her, ‘in fifty years time you could find someone’s parked you in at the supermarket just on the day you’re rushing to get over to the bank to pick up your pension.’
    Ms Dunning thought about that too, frowning.
    For a sec I thought she hadn’t understood all my hand movements, but then she grinned and I could see she had. She’s very good at reading sign now, just not so good at speaking it.
    â€˜OK, Ro,’ she said, ‘go for it.’
    She gave my shoulder a squeeze and hurried off to have a wee, which is something else that happens a lot when you’re having a baby in just over a week.
    I’ll be going for it as soon as I’ve finished breakfast.
    Actually I’m not feeling very hungry, even though the eggs are perfect.
    Every time I swallow there’s a knot in my guts the size of Uluru Rock.
    I think I’m a bit nervous about facing everyone after last night.
    I’ll be OK, though, as long as I can get the notice photocopied and stuck up everywhere before an angry mob grabs me and strings me up by my feet from the Tidy Town sign.

 
    As I left our place I saw something that made me feel better.
    A rainbow sparkling from one side of the orchard to the other.
    We get them sometimes when Dad’s spraying the trees with the