Spud (24 page)

Queen’s Another One Bites the Dust at last caused a dance floor invasion. The dancing began as a huge circle of boys and girls, and then broke up into smaller groups. Vern, Gecko, Fatty (dancing with his kitbag), Geoff and myself moved to the far side of the dance floor and began dancing with a group of seven girls, who
immediately whispered to one another and then stalked off. In hindsight, I have to admit we didn’t make for the prettiest group. Vern’s spasmodic dancing style leaves a lot to be desired and Gecko appeared to be constantly on the verge of some sort of fatal attack.

Time ticked by slowly and the social nightmare of embarrassment plodded on like a lethargic snail. Simon and Rambo both left the hall holding hands with different girls. Mad Dog climbed up the drainpipe and crawled through the window to join the action but was kicked out after grabbing a large girl’s buttocks and shouting, ‘Who’s the man?’

Alphaville’s Forever Young played and couples paired off and slow danced together. Geoff and myself retired to the snack tables, which by now had been picked clean (including garnish). While Geoff rambled on about rugby, I couldn’t help but look at Julia Roberts who was dancing with a lanky second year from Barnes house. Geoff nodded at the redhead and said, ‘Bet you a million bucks she’s a stuck up bitch.’ I think I nodded in agreement.

After the song, the beauty said something to her partner and then joined a group of girls near the DJ stand. I felt like I wanted to meet her, but was too chicken to make a move. Eventually, the music stopped and the girls were ordered to the bus. Mad Dog managed a parting shot when he howled like a wolf from our dormitory window as they all crossed the quad. We watched them go and I was left with the vision of the beautiful redhead disappearing through the archway, never looking back.

Here follows the dormitory scoreboard (final tally).

Simon kissed two girls and managed to return with a size 28A black bra. (Which according to him was undeniable proof that he had fondled a girl’s breasts.) Boggo said that a 28A meant the girl
had
no breasts so he only paid half (R5).

Rambo kissed twin sisters, each without the other knowing. (Boggo refused to pay out until the truth of this story had been established. Nobody had seen any twins, although Rambo said that was because they were identical.)

Nobody else scored, except for Fatty, who had made off with a kitbag full of snacks. Boggo claimed to have been on the verge of scoring when the girls had been called to the bus. Mad Dog has been ordered to see Sparerib on Monday after his dodgy behaviour. I assured the dormitory that I had had numerous scoring chances but hadn’t acted on them because of my girlfriend. (Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.)

Dreamed about Julia Roberts. (The one with red hair.)

Viking smashed Smith on the head with a tin plate after he dropped it for the third time during the workhouse scene rehearsal. Smith collapsed like a lead balloon and burst into floods of tears. Viking showed no sign of remorse, ignored the sobbing Smith and shouted, ‘From the top! And if I hear another plate drop there will be bloodshed!’ Smith realised that nobody cared much for his troubles (least of all me) and returned to the line of workhouse boys queuing up for imaginary gruel.

20:00   I’m the only first year boy in the African Affairs society. Luthuli was unanimously voted chairman soon after the gathering was assembled. Mr Lennox showed us a videotape from the BBC which showed horrific police beatings of ANC youths in the townships last year. After the video we set about discussing the state of South African politics. Everybody seemed wickedly intelligent and made comments about things like Umkhonto we Sizwe and the Lancaster House Agreement which I’ve
never heard of. A freckle-faced matric boy with large spectacles called Linton Austin, who rumour has it is the cleverest boy in the school, reckoned that the source of all social change was purely economic. I nodded my head vigorously because at that precise moment it seemed like the right thing to do. (In all further meetings I shall agree with Linton Austin and his economical mind.) I didn’t say a word during the meeting, but I loved every moment of it. Lennox is inspirational. He very seldom gives his own opinion but keeps everybody on their toes by playing what he calls ‘the devil’s advocate’ and asks probing questions which fire up some furious debate. Before we left he told us not to act on wild emotion but carefully consider the facts of the situation before forming an opinion. Despite his words I found it impossible not to be outraged by the images that I saw on the video and strode back to the house fired up with political passion and Mrs Lennox’s powerful filter coffee.

It’s official. Three more pairs of my underpants are missing. This time I spoke to Vern about the situation and he said he was also missing two pairs. After making a few enquiries at breakfast, I soon uncovered a hornet’s nest. Everybody (besides Fatty) is missing underpants and has been too nervous to say anything. Unfortunately, because I raised the alarm, I was unanimously elected to take the matter up with the prefects.

12:15   The Guv proudly announced that our cricket tour to Cape Town is officially on. Unfortunately, the cost is two thousand rand per player. I will have to make a call home to ask the impossible.

Had another storming lunch with The Guv whose mood is slowly improving despite the fact that his
wife still hasn’t come home. This time we wolfed down pieces of greasy reheated Kentucky Fried Chicken and drank Coke. I was pleased to see that The Guv’s house smelt better and was far neater than before. Apparently Gloria, who used to work for Crispo, is now coming to The Guv’s three times a week to wash, clean, dust and drive out rats and other small foraging animals. Gloria greeted me with a warm smile and I could see she was already caring for The Guv like she did for Crispo. She placed The Guv’s neatly folded newspaper and his spectacles on the table next to him and switched on the lamp.

I told my English teacher that I thought The Lord of the Rings was without doubt the best book that I’ve ever read, and tears sprang to his eyes. He patted me on the head and muttered, ‘Blessed boy, blessed boy’ I handed his gigantic book back to him and together we read our favourite bits out loud. The Guv (despite drinking Coke) seemed to be getting rapidly pickled. He moaned on about his wife and then began to weep. It was only when I went to close the window that I saw the half empty bottle of Captain Morgan’s rum teetering on the windowsill (cunningly hidden behind the net curtain).

While cleaning up Earthworm’s room and checking the ink in all twelve pens in his pencil case, I casually mentioned the underpants problem. Earthworm studied me closely over the rims of his reading glasses (no doubt deciding whether I was trying to take the piss) and then asked me a series of quick-fire questions. I told him that, in total, our dormitory had lost over twenty-four pairs of underpants. There was a long pause as my prefect studied me once more and said, ‘I’ll take it up with the relevant authorities.’ He then returned to his chemistry notebook and not another word was uttered. I felt hugely relieved that the deed was done and the whole thing was now out of my hands.

07:30   The unthinkable has happened. With nighttime temperatures no more that two degrees Celsius and plummeting fast, Rambo announced at breakfast that there would be another Crazy Eight mission tonight. He said that it would only kick off after midnight. A groan passed around the breakfast table. Boggo shook his head, Fatty muttered unhappily to himself, Gecko looked pale and Vern just looked demented. Who in his right mind goes night swimming after midnight in winter?

22:45   Once the house had gone quiet Rambo brought the group into a huddle around his bed. He explained that he wanted us to raid the kitchen (ie break in and steal large quantities of food from the kitchen stocks). Rambo (who I’m sure has a great future as a Mafia boss) has bribed one of the kitchen staff to leave a window open, paving the way for the great kitchen robbery!

As always it was Boggo who brought the great risk home to us. ‘If we’re caught, we’re finished, expelled, maybe suspended, if we’re lucky – let’s just say we’ll be in deep you know what.’

Boggo’s warning was interrupted by Fatty who leapt up and shouted, ‘I’m in!’ looking totally inspired. ‘Me too,’ said Mad Dog without the faintest shred of fear in his eyes.

‘That’s three,’ said Rambo, eyeing the rest of us. ‘Gecko doing the san, one more vote will seal it.’ Silence. I shook my head and looked down – I could feel eyes boring into me but there was no way in hell I was going with this one. Vern looked moggy and pulled out a clump of hair. Boggo told Rambo to go to hell. It looked like democracy had finally bitten Rambo in the bum. It was a classic Crazy Seven standoff and for once it seemed that sanity would win the day. Roger jumped up onto the
locker and let out a howl to announce his arrival.

‘Good – Roger’s in. That’s four then!’ At first I thought Rambo was joking, but soon it became obvious that he was deadly serious. Roger had been given a vote. The die was cast. It took me a few moments to realise that a neurotic cat had quite possibly decided my fate! Vern hissed and clucked at Roger who purred and repeatedly headbutted the edge of Vern’s towel rail. Boggo was beside himself that a cat had swayed the vote on such an important issue. Unfortunately, our pleas for sanity were in vain and Rambo’s imaginative plot was unveiled. Beginning to think that a sub-zero night swim might have been a more appealing option.

Midnight – the witching hour. My legs were shaking – hell, everything was shaking. I’m not afraid to admit that I was terrified. Perched on Fatty’s shoulders with my head poked through the kitchen window, I was once again reminded why this school is a living hell. And as far as I was concerned, this was it. How do you explain to your parents that you were expelled for stealing food from the school kitchen when you’re not even hungry?

As the smallest, I was unanimously voted to lead the break-in. (Despite Mr Lennox’s speech the other night, I am seriously beginning to doubt the idea of democracy.) Eventually, I was forced through the window and landed in a heap on the cold kitchen floor. I felt my way to the door, undid the Yale latch and opened the door for six madmen and a cat.

Once inside, things ran fairly smoothly. Rambo knew the cupboards that needed to be opened and set about loading his cricket bag with packets of food. Roger thought the entire operation was a game solely for his benefit and quickly crouched down into stalking mode, pouncing on anything or anyone who moved. Fatty
closed the window and within three minutes the door was locked and the Crazy Seven plus cat were streaking barefoot across the frostbitten quad.

Once again I felt the terror grip me – I knew they would be waiting. One of the prefects would be lying in my bed waiting for me to land. Once in the house we crept up the stairs and tiptoed through the second years’ dormitory. Somebody shouted and I went cold. But then, silence. It was only a sleeptalker. I felt for my bed – it was still warm but empty.

Stolen Goods Inventory

2kgs cheddar cheese
4kgs dark cooking chocolate
10kgs stewing beef
10kgs white rice (uncooked)
10 tins of tuna
3 loaves of bread
6 eggs (two broken)
1 spatula (nobody’s sure how the spatula got into the bag)

We soon set about gorging ourselves on our stolen booty. Rambo wanted us to devour as much as we could before the rising siren (in case of a dormitory raid). Mad Dog fired up his Cadac gas cooker and soon he was stewing beef and using the spatula to good effect.

03:00   I lay on my bed, trying not to vomit. Even breathing was difficult. One by one the group slipped off to sleep, leaving Fatty with his cheese and bread and Roger to his tuna fish. Still wondering why we risked our futures for cheese, bread and stewing beef – fell asleep without an answer.

08:00   Relieved that no emergency assembly was
called. Too tired and stuffed to concentrate on lessons properly

14:20   Called home and told the folks about the Cape Town cricket tour in July. Dad was thrilled until I casually threw in the bit about the two thousand rand. What followed can only be described as a loud sneeze combined with an epileptic fit. After Dad had calmed down I told him in my most innocent voice not to worry and that missing the tour wouldn’t be the end of the world. This little bit of manipulation worked a treat because Dad suddenly shouted, ‘Over my dead body will my son miss his cricket tour to Cape Town!’ He then slammed down the phone. The phone rang almost immediately and it was Mom demanding to know what I had said to Dad because he was walking around the garden talking to himself. After I explained, she told me not to get my hopes up and rang off.

I called the Mermaid who sounded sad and depressed. She wouldn’t explain why and answered all my questions with a ‘Yes’ or a ‘No’ or a ‘Dunno’. Eventually, I gave up and said goodbye. As she put the phone down I could hear her starting to cry. I felt awful. I took a stroll and ended up in the sanatorium visiting Gecko who seemed over the moon to see me. I told him about the kitchen raid and could see in his eyes that he was envious and sad. He asked me to stay with him a while but I knew that would only make me feel worse so I made up an excuse and left. I continued my walk and ended up at The Guv’s house, only to find it empty. I saw Mr Lilly walking his poodle (with a tight pink jersey wrapped around its fluffy white body) but decided not to approach him.

The sun had already sunk behind the hills and a chill breeze bit at my nose and ears. I pulled my poloneck jersey over my mouth and set off to the dining hall for a dinner of stewed beef and rice.

It is nearly a week since my last diary entry.

Today started off with a quote scrawled on paper and then pinned to the house noticeboard which read:

Suddenly the talking stopped. The Mermaid was looking at me with that same intense stare that she had given me on the pool steps. This time there was no swimming away. I stared back and hoped she didn’t hear the big thumping snare drum in my chest. Our lips met, my eyes closed and then I felt her tongue in my mouth. After a moment’s shock my own tongue met hers and we were joined in a mad tongue wrestle of love. We seemed to kiss for some sort of eternity and when it was over I was instantly overcome with the most wonderful feeling of accomplishment. All I could think about was charging back to school to casually tell the Crazy Eight that I had kissed the Mermaid and she was now my girlfriend.