Read Spud - Learning to Fly Online
Authors: John van de Ruit
Spud - Learning to Fly (36 page)
RELIGIONS/CHURCHES DEEMED SOUND BY THE CHAPLAIN
All Anglican churches
Some Catholic churches
RELIGIONS/CHURCHES DEEMED SUSPICIOUS BY THE CHAPLAIN
Most Catholic churches
Presbyterianism
Hinduism
NG Kerk
Judaism (this despite Jesus being Jewish)
RELIGIONS/CHURCHES TO BE VIGOROUSLY AVOIDED
Evangelicals
Baptists
Islam
Jehovah’s Witnesses
RELIGIONS/CHURCHES TO BE DESTROYED
Satanist
Buddist
Methodist
To end the class, Reverend Bishop read a ‘cleansing’ prayer to rid us of any possible Methodist indoctrination and contamination.
After lunch, Boggo pulled me and Fatty aside, and declared that Simon was lying about playing cricket overseas. ‘We all saw him,’ he whispered. ‘Simon had a full on nervous breakdown.’ Then he motioned us to follow him up the stairs to the archives room.
Seated on our comfortable chairs and secure from the rest of the school, Boggo nodded proudly like he had just cracked the case wide open and said, ‘He wants to be cricket captain and a prefect, so he’s putting out the word that he isn’t a flaky.’
‘He does seem a bit different,’ conceded Fatty with a concerned look on his face.
‘He’s much more relaxed,’ I noted.
‘That’s because he’s had shock treatment, you helmet,’ cried Boggo. ‘My oath to God.’
‘How do you know?’ asked Fatty warming to the conspiracy.
‘Hunch,’ replied Boggo.
‘No proof?’ Fatty looked disappointed.
Boggo shook his head and fell silent. Then he said, ‘You know, if Simon gets away with this, one of you two won’t make prefect.’
Boggo’s logic has it that the battle for head of house is down to a race between himself and Rambo.
‘Garlic’s old man could buy him a spot, and never count Vern out because in this place anything’s possible,’ he said, and then looked at us like we should do something about it.
We had to abruptly stop the Simon discussion because the freckled face of Sidewinder appeared mischievously in the doorway. Sidewinder was so excited to see Fatty that he raced up to him and stopped just short of leaping into his arms. He then felt embarrassed and blushed terribly before looking down at the floor.
‘Check it out, Sidewinder,’ said Fatty fumbling in his blazer pocket for his wallet. After much tugging and negotiating, he eventually wrestled the wallet free, along with a significant amount of the lining of his blazer. He then flicked it open and proudly displayed a photograph of Penny. ‘How hot is she?’ he said.
‘Very hot,’ said Sidewinder looking at the photograph and nodding slowly as if highly impressed.
Boggo made loud gagging noises and said he was about to throw up his lunch. Since Fatty was now in full cry about Penny, I followed the muttering Boggo down the stairs and back across the quad to the house.
17:00 Viking called in the Crazy Eight for a meeting in the common room. He closed the door and windows because he said it was a secret meeting, and then proceeded to speak so loudly that the entire school may well have heard. Firstly, he announced that we would need to cover many of the duties for the prefects while they were studying for their finals this term and that we had to set the example in the house once they had left. He told us that he was doing away with Sparerib’s old policy of announcing the prefects next year, because he said whomever was chosen would need to prepare mentally during the holidays.
‘It’s a vital job,’ he boomed, ‘and I won’t be handing out the privilege willy-nilly!’
You could have heard a pin drop in the common room. I looked around at the others who were all watching Viking intently, lapping up every single word he said.
Our housemaster concluded the meeting by declaring that we were all still very much in the running for prefect, and said we should prepare for a great test of our leadership abilities soon. He warned that he would be watching us closely over the coming term before coming to his decision.
We left the common room in silence and then went our separate ways.
It’s obvious everybody wants to be a prefect, if only for the privileges of having a slave to make your bed and take your laundry, and hanging out in the prefects’ room with free tea and toast. It also means that some of us won’t be prefects and will have to deal with being second-class citizens next year.
Rambo threatened to kill Vern if he kept up with his unnecessary thrashing on the calculator before the rising siren. It’s still unclear why Vern is suddenly so attached to his calculators, but I’d take the irritating tapping over the striking up of matches.
11:00 I think I’m beginning to understand the way in which the universe works: desire something and you’re doomed. Ignore it completely and you get more than you ever dreamed off. The same rule applies to cricket, girls, exam results, and just about everything else in life. Not only that, if you expect nothing, then you can never really feel depressed when you lose out. After all, you never really wanted it in the first place … I’m going to call it the Universal Law of Desire.
From now on, I’ll forget all about girls and sex. In fact girls and sex are the last thing on my mind. Not for me.
Never. No, thanks!
Without having bowled a ball since March and not having given the noble sport of cricket a moment’s thought in six months, I have been promoted, not one, but two cricket teams. Howzat?
I checked out the team sheets three times during the tea break just to confirm that my eyes weren’t deceiving me. But there it was, typed in at number 6 on the list for the Third Eleven versus Woodridge on Saturday.
J Milton
14:00 Called Dad to tell him the good news. Got Mom instead. She said Dad was down at the pub wrapping up the lunchtime session and gave me the number for Franky’s.
Finally got through to my father, who sounded completely sozzled. When he heard the news about my double promotion, he roared with delight and rang the gong for a free round of drinks. There was a huge cheer from the bar patrons and I heard my dad shouting, ‘To my son! The next great Springbok legspinner!’ There was another roar of men’s voices and then the line went dead.
14:30 Norm (I don’t believe in spinners) Wade was hardly friendly to me at the thirds’ net practice. All he said was, ‘Welcome, Milton. You’re in the team to bat so don’t expect many overs.’
I don’t care. Even just batting and fielding for the thirds is an honour.
I was very nervous about bowling in the nets. It felt like my shoulder exploded when I released my first delivery. Everything was out of whack and disconnected and I felt slightly dizzy and faint. Of course it didn’t help that Norm (I don’t believe in spinners) Wade was standing right behind me with dark sunglasses and a grim expression on his face.
It took me a few balls to get back into the old rhythm, but pretty soon I began to find my length and it became apparent that most of the third team batsmen had no clue how to face spinners. This shouldn’t come as a surprise since their coach has had spinners ruthlessly banished from the team.
Even Rambo and Martin Leslie, who have faced my bowling many times before, seemed to be confounded by my spin and bounce. The coach didn’t mention that I got just about his entire team out over the course of the afternoon, although surprisingly he was extremely friendly to me when I was batting and offered me numerous pointers for improvement. After I had finished my batting stint he said, ‘Well done, Milton. You will bat at 6 on Saturday.’
I’m in! Rambo didn’t say a word to me for the entire practice and seems a bit miffed that he’ll have to lower himself to play in the same team as me.
I strode back to the house with my cricket bag slung over my shoulder. The grass was lush and green underfoot, with the gentle afternoon sunshine on my back. Listening to the pleasant cooing of the Cape turtle doves in the trees above me, I suddenly realised how much I have missed the exhilaration of competitive cricket.
Boggo charged into breakfast looking like he had some important news to share.
‘There’s a new slave,’ he said, before he had even given himself a chance to sit down. ‘His name is Christopher Walton – how fag is that?’ He chortled to himself as he drenched his fried eggs in a puddle of tomato sauce.
‘Then it’s a christening tonight,’ said Rambo, smiling and looking eager. There was much murmuring and chewing but nobody actually replied in the affirmative.
‘Cool,’ said Rambo, and took a large munch of his toast.
We all ate in silence for a while, and then Boggo finally said, ‘It won’t look good getting bust in the first year dorm.’
Rambo stared at him and Boggo mumbled on hesitantly. ‘I mean, after the meeting when Viking said we have to be more responsible and stuff …’
Rambo finished swallowing his mouthful of toast and then in a teasing voice said, ‘I think someone’s pushing for prefect.’
‘Bullshit!’ replied Boggo to the sound of loud and derisive sniggers.
Then Rambo’s smile faded and his voice was suddenly laced with menace. ‘Don’t worry, you won’t be a prefect anyway, Boggo.’
Boggo snorted. ‘I know I’m not going to be a prefect, I’m gonna be head of house!’
Rambo burst into loud laughter.
‘You wanna bet?’ challenged Boggo immediately.
‘Yes, I do want to bet,’ replied Rambo.
‘Cool,’ said Boggo in a strident voice. ‘Tonight then.’ With that he crashed his knife and fork together on his plate and left the hall without so much as touching his eggs.
22:00 BOGGO’S BETTING PTY LTD
HEAD OF HOUSE ODDS
| BOGGO | 2-1 |
| RAMBO | 3-1 |
| SIMON | 5-1? (50-1) |
| FATTY | 20-1 |
| SPUD | 25-1 |
| GARLIC | 100-1 |
| VERN | 1000-1 |
‘What does the question mark next to Simon’s name mean?’ asked Garlic as he studied the list on Boggo’s three-legged chalkboard with a frown.
‘That question mark means what it is,’ said Boggo. ‘It depends on whether he’s lying about his nervous breakdown or not.’
‘What breakdown!’ roared Simon, really losing his temper for the first time since his return.
‘All I’m saying,’ said Boggo with raised hands, ‘all I’m saying is all that lying on your bed and crying and weird behaviour and shit, didn’t look like faking to me.’
‘Anyway,’ said Simon, ‘what difference does it make? The staff all think I had a nervous breakdown anyway, and they are the ones who choose the heads of houses.’
‘Ja, but
do
they?’ questioned Boggo.
‘I have to see Eve twice a week, just to assure her that I’m not suicidal,’ Simon said bitterly.
There was a silence and Boggo nodded slowly as if digesting this news.
‘True,’ said Boggo at last. He then changed Simon’s odds to 50-1.
‘I only wanted you guys to know the truth because you’re my mates,’ said Simon into the hushed and uncomfortable silence.
Whiteside’s door was open the entire evening, although it was impossible to see if he was inside or not. Rambo eventually postponed the Fragile Five christening until tomorrow.
23:15 All this talk of prefects is unsettling. Everyone seems so urgent and desperate about it. It makes me feel like I should be out there doing something to improve my chances, but I can’t help escaping the feeling that pushing for prefect is somehow a little bit shameful and pathetic.
Thirds Debut
I managed 22 runs with the bat, which was a solid enough start to my new career as batsman and part-time spinner. I didn’t think I was going to get a chance to bowl, but when the Woodridge batsmen smashed all our seam bowlers around the park, I eventually received a terse nod from Norm (I don’t believe in spinners) Wade, and the order to bowl from the other end.
The coach refused to comment on my three wickets for just eleven runs, but he did say, ‘Well batted, Milton,’ when I passed him in the passage outside the change room after the tea break.
Despite the result being a draw, I’m most happy with my debut in serious cricket. I also scored double the runs of Rambo and took three times the wickets, so it was no surprise that he refused to talk to me for the entire evening and the rest of the weekend.
22:30 Christopher Walton is a perfect Fragile Five re-placement for Gastro. Not only is he timid and painfully thin, but he’s also cursed with a nasty stutter and an Adam’s apple the size of an Easter egg. His stuttering and stammering seemed to become worse when confronted by Rambo’s aggressive and intimidating questions. Thanks to his unfortunate speech problems, he was unanimously christened STUTTERHEIM, which Simon assured us was a small town in the Eastern Cape. Since nobody else had a better name to offer (Boggo suggested Gastro 2 …) we settled for Stutterheim, which both Plump Graham and Rowdy thought to be an excellent choice.
Why do parents think they can just send a boy with obvious problems to a school like this? What do they expect – that he’s going to thrive? Mind you, nobody ever gave Vern much of a chance at survival, and he’s made the school play and is now whispered in some quarters as a potential prefect!
Stutterheim was deeply embarrassed by his name. I wanted to take him aside and say, ‘Get out while you still can, buddy, or it’s going to be a very long four years!’ But I didn’t want to start a conversation in case he got stuck on a word and kept stuttering like a lunatic. In the end I settled for a sympathetic smile and a nice warm, ‘Welcome.’
Poor Stutterheim will no doubt try his best against all the odds, but he’d better get used to feelings of terror and embarrassment. I wish him well but fear the worst.
Fatty spent two and a half hours on the phone to Penny this morning. Things turned nasty when Boggo reported his former friend to Whiteside for permanently blocking up the house line. Whiteside tore downstairs and tried to force Fatty off the phone but Fatty refused and said he was speaking his last words to his dying granny. Whiteside paled and retreated with apologies to Fatty. He then gave Boggo a stern lecture on respecting people’s right to grieve.