Don't Call Me Ishmael Read Online Free PDF Page B

complete that last circle because, as I said, that’s
my
part of the deal.’ Then Miss Tarango leant in closer to Barry Bagsley and looked him right in the eyes. ‘Now
your
part of the deal is to
stay
on that seat
until
I do.’
    A groundswell of realisation rumbled around the class like a Mexican wave. When even Bill Kingsley’s face eventually lit up in a rare display of comprehension, Barry Bagsley knew he was beaten.
    â€˜You see how powerful language can be, boys? Even a little word like “before” can hurt you if you don’t treat it with respect and listen carefully. Now,
before
we all head off for lunch, let’s give Barry here a
big
round of applause for having the courage to volunteer today and help with the demonstration.’
    Cheer and jeers mixed with laughter and clapping as everyone spilled noisily from the room. Miss Tarango had won more than just a challenge; she had won over the class-all except for Barry Bagsley, of course. He sat glowering in theteacher’s seat while everyone filed out so that no one would see his unavoidable surrender.
    Here are Five Amazing Facts about Miss Tarango:
    1. Her dimples are deadly weapons.
    2. Her smile is hotter than a laser beam.
    3. She can make poetry sound exciting.
    4. She’s not afraid of Barry Bagsley.
    5. She’s definitely no Barbie Bimbo.
    Supplementary Amazing Fact: After just one day I knew she would be the best teacher I ever had.

10.
HEY, BLUBBER BOY!
    Miss Tarango might have won her battle with Barry Bagsley, but I was still fighting mine. Well, when I say fighting, it was more like I was cringing down at the far end of the trench while Barry Bagsley bombarded me with abuse. And to make matters worse, Miss Tarango’s revelation about Moby Dick had provided Barry Bagsley with a whole new range of ammunition. Now his name-calling had taken on a decidedly nautical flavour.
    â€˜Hey, Blubber Boy!’
    â€˜Yo, Whale Dick!’
    â€˜How’s it goin’, Fish Paste?’
    But there was something even more troubling about Barry Bagsley. He was still burning with humiliation and resentment over the chair challenge. Not that Miss Tarango ever tried to rub in her victory. In fact, she never mentioned the incident again. At least I don’t think she did-not intentionally, anyway. There was that one day when Barry was becomingvery restless and was swinging and swivelling in his chair as if he was on a show ride.
    â€˜Barry, if that seat is uncomfortable for you, you’re quite welcome to come and sit on the teacher’s chair. It’s padded.’
    That’s all she said. Some of Barry’s crew laughed and made comments, but Miss Tarango ignored them and continued to look at Barry with such genuine concern that no one was sure if she had meant to be funny or was deadly serious in her offer. It didn’t really matter one way or the other. The thing was, it worked. Barry Bagsley immediately deflated like a punctured balloon while Miss Tarango smiled as sweetly as a rose till you really believed there couldn’t possibly be any hidden thorns there that you might need to be wary of.
    The problem was, however, with Miss Tarango out of reach of Barry Bagsley’s anger and frustration, he had to find a closer, easier target. This is where I came into my own. Not content with chewing up my name and spitting it out in mangled, barely recognisable blobs, Barry Bagsley began to expand his repertoire of torment into other fields.
    These included, but were by no means limited to:
moving or hiding my bag, pencil case, calculator, books, hat or any other possession he could get his hands on, so that my day became one tedious, neverending treasure hunt
updating my homework diary with obscene drawings and suggestions, often involving Miss Tarango and whales
leaving half-eaten sandwiches, sausage rolls and rotting pieces of fruit in my locker/desk/bag until everything I opened seemed to reek like a