New Kid

• Rebecca Nettleton, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2016

Everything is a blur. The rotunda roof scrapes my bare, exposed legs. The other boys stare up at me from below.
“He did it! He did the dare! He slid down the roof!” screamed one preppie.
I flicked off the roof and landed with a thud, still feeling my burning legs.
That night, my Mother saw my tomato-red thighs and rushed away. Soon she came back bringing bandages, ointment and that numbing stuff she buys from the local market. Later, she stood back with a grunt, satisfied. I walked to my room with sore legs. I knew my second day at a new school would be horrid. I knew it!
I was right. And Cameron Lewie, the same school bully that made me slide down the roof gave me another dare.
“Bring one of those wild cockatoos and let it fly around in the middle of maths, or I will punch you,” he had said. I knew he meant it, so for the rest of the day I tried to catch a Cockatoo. In the end I got 12, just to impress everyone. I nearly showed them off, but stopped myself.
First session maths. Perfect. I can do my dare now. I put the birds in my luckily sound-proof tub. When I retrieved my pencil case, the angry Cockatoos flew out. Isabella screamed, “I hate Cockatoos! They poo!” The Cockatoos ignored her. The first person the exasperated birds saw was Mr. Saverini. The teacher. The flock of birds attacked the adult. He fell over and screaming at the top of his lungs, landed on the fire alarm bell. It went off and caused more confusion. Unfortunately, normal classes soon resumed. Johnny, one boy from my class walked up to me. “Thanks, I hate school. You almost did it. Keep trying, and no more school ever,” he congratulated me.
That night, I dreamed of very un-boyish unicorns. When I got to school, I was confronted with another dare. “Ditch school for the whole day hiding in the skip.”
The skip was filled with foam at least, and there was a hole to spy through. It was a long day. Teachers walked by muttering things like; “David is not doing work.” Then, after what seemed like centuries, the bell for home time rang.
“Where were you? For skipping the day, you get to clean the dishes tonight!” Mum scolded.
Next morning, feeling the warm, happy sun on my back, I rode my BMX to school with high spirits. They abruptly sank as I saw Cameron Lewie at the gates. “I dare you to graffiti on the toilets,” was my welcome. I almost agreed until I realised he was trying to kick me out of school. Children are not supposed to bully or be bullied. “Do it yourself,” I retorted. After that, I never saw him again.