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.”Exceptionally exciting.If Douglas Benson from Another Dimension could pull this off, I’d be prepared to let him kiss me again.I just wouldn’t like it.Best wishes,Your pen pal,CandiceR Is for RevelationsDouglas Benson from Another Dimension insisted on holding my hand when we entered Miss Bamford’s classroom the following morning.It was better than getting up close and personal with his tongue, though his hand was slightly clammy.Why is romance so wet?Jen Marshall choked on her gum.“Hey,” she yelled.“Get a load of this, guys.” She shrieked with laughter.“The retards have got together.Oh.My.God.” She fell to the floor and rolled around, clutching her belly.There is always something dramatic about Jen.You have to admire her.“Ignore her, Candice,” said Douglas Benson from Another Dimension.“She’s jealous.”That stopped Jen Marshall’s rolling.“Jealous?” she screamed.“Jealous? Of what, you.you.” She’s good on drama.Not so good on vocabulary.“Retard!” she finished.I might have pointed out her unnecessary repetition, but I was worried about that gum.“Jen?” I said.“If you are going to shout, it might be an idea to dispose of your gum.Accidents have been known to happen, you know.”“Shut up, moron,” she yelled.If I have a criticism of Jen, it’s that she doesn’t vary her vocal volume.“Shut the hell up.”“What is going on here?”The bellow made Jen’s screams seem like a delicate whisper.Twenty-five heads snapped around to the front of the classroom.Forty-nine ears rang (Alex McLean, missing one eardrum).We froze in various poses.We were expecting Miss Bamford.We didn’t get her.The woman at the front of the class was tall and stick-thin, as if she’d been left to dry in the sun for a long time.Her eyes swept the room and might have turned us all to statues, if we weren’t already turned to statues.Now, I have met many forbidding people, teachers in particular, and I have never failed to spot some sign of kindness in them.The glint of an eye.The relaxed cast of an arm.The hint of a smile.This woman gave no sign of friendliness.I felt that in a battle between her and a saltwater crocodile, the smart money would be on her.I liked her.Immediately.“Sit down! This instant!”We sat.Even Jen Marshall hurried to get to her chair, and Jen Marshall hurries for nothing and no one.The stick insect (crossed with a saltwater crocodile) waited for a moment and then sat at the teacher’s desk.She treated us to another sweep of steely intent, which we received in silence.She placed her hands, palms down, on the desk.“My name is Miss Cowie and I am a substitute teacher.This does not mean I have an invisible target between my eyes, or that you should confuse me with a human being.”Judging by the expressions on my classmates’ faces, there was little chance of that.“Miss Bamford is unfortunately ill and will be away for a few days.In the meantime, I am in charge.She has left instructions that you are to prepare for the end-of-term exam.I will hand out a practice paper, involving close reading.You have this period to finish it.You will work in silence.”The examination was fairly easy.I opened my pencil box, selected my favorite pencils, and started to work.Even Jen Marshall worked in silence.Miss Cowie sat at the front of the class, but she didn’t read or open a laptop.This was unusual.In my experience, substitute teachers generally read the newspaper or knitted or surfed the Internet or (in one memorable instance) built a small fighter jet from tiny plastic parts.Miss Cowie sat as if she had a steel rod inserted in her spine.She watched us.She did not flinch.Her eyes never rested.I worried about Miss Bamford, though.After all, she was my favorite teacher in the whole world.When I got home, things were different.Mum was up and bustling around the kitchen.Dad was slicing onions.No computer parts hung from his extremities, which was a surprise.I checked twice.He was, however, sporting a large bruise on his left cheekbone where Rich Uncle Brian’s knee had presumably made contact.“Hello,” I said.The greeting wasn’t exciting, but it rarely failed.“Hello, Pumpkin,” said Mum.She gave me a huge smile.Dad put his knife down and tousled my hair.I was glad he’d remembered to put down the knife.“Hi, Candice,” he said.“How was school?”My head was buzzing with questions, but it was polite to answer questions already asked before posing your own.“Wonderful,” I said.“We had a substitute teacher today.It is not clear if she is human.She confessed to being unsure herself.She ruled the class with an iron fist and steely eyes and possibly other metallic body parts.Jen Marshall wrote something.No one knew she could.I believe she shocked herself.”“Lovely,” said Mum, which struck me as a strange response.“What’s happening?” I asked.“I’m making dinner,” said Mum.Her bright smile was unnerving.“And I’m helping,” added Dad.“What’s happening?” I said.“I thought we’d have a family dinner and a nice chat,” said Mum.She spread her arms in a gesture of appeal.“Is that so unusual?”“Yes,” I said.I felt no one could argue with that statement, and no one did.Dad took up the knife again and continued dicing onions.Mum scrutinized a recipe book.Had I wandered into the wrong family by mistake? I thought about checking the number on the front door, but decided against it.“Douglas Benson from Another Dimension is coming round in a few minutes,” I said [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]