me by mouth.
She told me sheâd learnt it at a summer school in Sydney, something to do with a project sheâs doing. Before she could fill me in on all the details, the bell rang.
It was great in class this morning because even though we sit on opposite sides of the room, we were able to carry on talking.
When Ms Dunning said something funny about Captain Cook and hamburgers, I caught Amandaâs eye.
âSheâs nice,â I said under the desk.
Amanda smiled and nodded.
And when Ms Dunning asked Darryn Peck a question about clouds and he rabbited on for several months boasting about how his brother the cropduster pilot can do skywriting, I caught Amandaâs eye again.
âHeâs a dingle,â I said.
She looked puzzled.
I remembered âdingleâ was a sign Dad and me had made up ourselves, so I tried something different.
She understood âcheese-brainâ and smiled and nodded.
Weâve just had a great lunch break sitting under a tree on the other side of the oval yakking on about all sorts of things.
She doesnât go to the hairdresser every day, her curls are natural. She told me she wishes she had straight hair like mine, and how she tried ironing it once but her dad hit the roof because he thought something was burning inside the telly.
I told her how Dad bought me some electric curlers for my birthday and tried to run them off the tractor generator to keep his legs warm in winter and they melted.
Sheâs got a younger brother in year two who eats fluff.
I told her how I couldnât have any younger brothers because of Mum dying, and she was really sympathetic.
And when I told her about Erin I thought she was going to cry.
Sheâs really sensitive, which can be a bit of a pain with some people, but usually isnât a problem with people who are also good runners.
She apologised for her dad losing his temper yesterday and I apologised for Dadâs antics with her mumâs armhole, and we both had a laugh about how dumb parents are.
Plus we discovered we both like runny eggs.
I told her Iâd make her some apple fritters.
Sometimes I had to write things down, and sometimes she had to say stuff by mouth, but the more we yakked the better she got with sign.
She even got the joke about the octopus and the combine harvester, which is only funny if you do it with your hands.
She was about to tell me more about her project, but the bell went.
It was the best lunch break Iâve ever had.
And now even though Ms Dunningâs telling us some really interesting stuff about dinosaurs, I just canât concentrate.
I just want to think about how great it is to have a friend at last.
I wonder if Ms Dunning can see the glazed look on my face?
No problem, Iâm sure sheâll understand if I explain that Iâm just feeling a bit mental because todayâs the best day of my life.
Cancel that.
This is the worst day of my life, including yesterday at the sports carnival.
No, thatâs not true.
The day Erin died was the worst day of my life, but at least that one started off badly with her being real crook and everything.
What I hate are days that start off well and end up down the dunny.
Like today.
This arvo everything was still fine.
Better than fine, because during art Amanda asked me if I wanted to go to her place tonight for tea.
Of course I said yes, and Ms Dunning, who I think might be a saint, or at least someone who has an incredibly well-balanced diet, let us ring Dad from the staff room to let him know.
Obviously I canât speak to Dad on the phone, except in an emergency when weâve arranged Iâll ring him and give three of my loudest whistles, so Amanda explained the situation to him.
âHe wants to speak to you,â she said, handing me the phone.
âTonto,â said Dadâs voice, âare you gunna be OK with that cheese-brain of an old man of hers?â
I wrote on my pad, âTell