Read Online The Nose from Jupiter by Richard Scrimger - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Scrimger
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that.” Though it probably wouldn’t be someone like that, or we’d have heard of him.
“I didn’t know that Shania Twain went to school here,” said Victor. “I thought she was from some place up north.”
–
Shania Twain, the country singer?
“Forget it.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Just forget it.”
–
Shania Twain is coming to this school?
“Hey!” Victor was calling to some kid down the hall. “Hey, guess who’s coming to the assembly tomorrow!”
The late bell rang. I had to get to my detention. “Quick, Victor. What’s a hundred in base five?” I asked him.
Files Don’t Talk Back
The Cougars had left the school yard by the time I got out from my detention. I looked around carefully, but couldn’t see any trace of them. Usually they left some fresh gum or graffiti to remember them by. I still went the long way home. It was a cold and gray day. It would have been faster to walk home by King Street the way I usually did, but I didn’t want to meet Prudence and Gary. I’d have to confront them sometime, but I thought that if I waited long enough, their anger would cool down. Maybe they’d let me live.
There was a lot of dust in the wind. I screwed my eyes shut and bent my head. Norbert sneezed and said he was sorry.
“Fine,” I said. I wasn’t very happy with Norbert. It was all his fault. He was the reason I was in trouble.
–
I can’t understand it
, he said at last.
“What?”
–
Everyone calls you “Squeaky,” but I can’t understand it.
You don’t sound squeaky in the least.
“They do not
all
call me ’Squeaky!’” I protested hotly. “A couple of kids made some remarks. And for your information, they were calling
you
’Squeaky,’ not me.”
–
Why would they call me “Squeaky?”
He sounded honestly puzzled.
“Because of your voice.”
–
But there’s nothing squeaky about my voice. On Jupiter my voice is considered very deep and resonant.
I didn’t have anything to say to that.
–
Though I do think Miranda has a soft spot for me.
“You?”
–
She kissed me, didn’t she? In front of the whole team. Yes, I think she has a soft spot for me, Squeaky.
I sighed.
It rained hard that evening. I stood in front of the kitchen window watching the water drip off our clothesline, listening to the distant rumble of thunder. Mom was talking on the phone. Evenings at our place tend to be on the dull side. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, and Mom spends a lot of time on her work.
I put some cookies on a plate and got myself a glass of milk to go with them. “Cookies and milk make the stomach feel smooth as silk,” my dad used to say all the time. Course he also said it about grilled cheese and milk, or coleslawand milk; whatever he was eating. Mom hung up the phone and went back to work.
“Did you used to play intramural sports in school?” I asked her. We’d talked a bit about the soccer game at dinner.
Mom didn’t answer.
“I wonder what the championship ribbons will look like,” I went on. “Sometimes they’re blue, sometimes gold. I hope they’re gold.”
Mom made that noise to show that she’d heard me, but wasn’t paying a lot of attention. The kitchen table was piled high with case files. I pushed them out of the way, so I could make room for the plate of cookies. Without looking up, she asked me to be more careful.
“They’re just files,” I said.
She sat straight up. Now I had her attention. She spoke slowly, carefully, angrily. “They’re not files – they’re human beings. They’re not just paper, they’re flesh and blood. Each of these cases is a real living, breathing, troubled person. Don’t you dare call them ’files’ again. You’re so…insensitive!” It’s her bad word.
I wanted to say, “What about me, Mom? I’m a human being too.” But I couldn’t. I was afraid. I was afraid that the cardboard and paper human beings on the table were more important to her than I was.
Of course
“I didn’t know that Shania Twain went to school here,” said Victor. “I thought she was from some place up north.”
–
Shania Twain, the country singer?
“Forget it.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Just forget it.”
–
Shania Twain is coming to this school?
“Hey!” Victor was calling to some kid down the hall. “Hey, guess who’s coming to the assembly tomorrow!”
The late bell rang. I had to get to my detention. “Quick, Victor. What’s a hundred in base five?” I asked him.
Files Don’t Talk Back
The Cougars had left the school yard by the time I got out from my detention. I looked around carefully, but couldn’t see any trace of them. Usually they left some fresh gum or graffiti to remember them by. I still went the long way home. It was a cold and gray day. It would have been faster to walk home by King Street the way I usually did, but I didn’t want to meet Prudence and Gary. I’d have to confront them sometime, but I thought that if I waited long enough, their anger would cool down. Maybe they’d let me live.
There was a lot of dust in the wind. I screwed my eyes shut and bent my head. Norbert sneezed and said he was sorry.
“Fine,” I said. I wasn’t very happy with Norbert. It was all his fault. He was the reason I was in trouble.
–
I can’t understand it
, he said at last.
“What?”
–
Everyone calls you “Squeaky,” but I can’t understand it.
You don’t sound squeaky in the least.
“They do not
all
call me ’Squeaky!’” I protested hotly. “A couple of kids made some remarks. And for your information, they were calling
you
’Squeaky,’ not me.”
–
Why would they call me “Squeaky?”
He sounded honestly puzzled.
“Because of your voice.”
–
But there’s nothing squeaky about my voice. On Jupiter my voice is considered very deep and resonant.
I didn’t have anything to say to that.
–
Though I do think Miranda has a soft spot for me.
“You?”
–
She kissed me, didn’t she? In front of the whole team. Yes, I think she has a soft spot for me, Squeaky.
I sighed.
It rained hard that evening. I stood in front of the kitchen window watching the water drip off our clothesline, listening to the distant rumble of thunder. Mom was talking on the phone. Evenings at our place tend to be on the dull side. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, and Mom spends a lot of time on her work.
I put some cookies on a plate and got myself a glass of milk to go with them. “Cookies and milk make the stomach feel smooth as silk,” my dad used to say all the time. Course he also said it about grilled cheese and milk, or coleslawand milk; whatever he was eating. Mom hung up the phone and went back to work.
“Did you used to play intramural sports in school?” I asked her. We’d talked a bit about the soccer game at dinner.
Mom didn’t answer.
“I wonder what the championship ribbons will look like,” I went on. “Sometimes they’re blue, sometimes gold. I hope they’re gold.”
Mom made that noise to show that she’d heard me, but wasn’t paying a lot of attention. The kitchen table was piled high with case files. I pushed them out of the way, so I could make room for the plate of cookies. Without looking up, she asked me to be more careful.
“They’re just files,” I said.
She sat straight up. Now I had her attention. She spoke slowly, carefully, angrily. “They’re not files – they’re human beings. They’re not just paper, they’re flesh and blood. Each of these cases is a real living, breathing, troubled person. Don’t you dare call them ’files’ again. You’re so…insensitive!” It’s her bad word.
I wanted to say, “What about me, Mom? I’m a human being too.” But I couldn’t. I was afraid. I was afraid that the cardboard and paper human beings on the table were more important to her than I was.
Of course
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