The Boy Next Door Read Online Free PDF Page B

there,” the deputy headmistress said, “just like Her Majesty, the queen,
     no less. We’ll have to be on our toes with the likes of you in our midst now.”
    The headmistress made a noise like a pig grunting.
    “Okay, come along then,” she said, getting up from behind her desk. She turned to Mummy and said, “You may now leave Mrs.
     Bishop. Linda is quite fine now.”
    Mummy opened her mouth to say something, but then she said something else. “Good-bye, Lindiwe. Good-bye, Mrs. Jameson.”
    Mummy had pressed her tongue down hard on my name, and I knew that she was trying to give the headmistress a message. I watched
     her turn round and walk out of the door. Seeing her leave made me feel tearful.
    “Come along, Linda. You must not keep Miss Turner waiting any longer. She is your class teacher.”
    I followed Mrs. Jameson along the corridor and down the stairs until we reached class 1B. She tapped on the door and without
     waiting pushed it open. She stepped inside. “Sorry to disturb you Miss Turner, but we have a late comer. I’ve been assured
     that this is a one-off. She will apologize. Come along, Linda. This is your new teacher, Miss Turner. Do you have something
     to say to her?”
    I stood looking down at my shoes.
    “Linda?”
    I looked up at Miss Turner, and she raised an eyebrow.
    “I am sorry, Miss Turner, for my late arrival.”
    The class burst out laughing.
    “Shush, girls. You’ll sit over there.” Miss Turner pointed. “Tracey will help you settle. Hush now, girls.”
    All the girls were saying, “I am sorry, Miss Turner, for my late arrival.” Some of them were pinching their noses.
    “Enough girls,” said Miss Turner, clapping her hands. “We have a lot of work to do. Continue reading, Dawn.”
    “She smells.”
    “Shhhh, Tracey, she’ll hear”
    “So what, she does smell.”
    “It’s what she puts in her hair.”
    “She doesn’t bath.”
    “Tracey!”
    “Actually
they
don’t bath.”
    “You’re being racialistic.”
    “I’m just being honest.”
    I pretended that I hadn’t heard. Anyway I didn’t care. I made myself think of something else. Mrs. McKenzie and the funeral
     of Mr. McKenzie Senior, which was taking place later in the morning, came into my head.
    In the three years we had known her, she had worn very short skirts and white stiletto heels. She would sit on her veranda
     smoking, painting her nails. Or she sunbathed. Sometimes she took the stereo outside and put the music so high that the chickens
     squawked and squawked. When drunk, she had stumbled towards the fence and mumbled things like, “I know you’re spying on me,
     you blacks.”
    “I don’t want to sit next to her. My mother said I should tell Miss Turner. It’s not fair. She’s probably got lice or something,
     all that stinky oil in her hair.”
    That was Geraldine with her melodious voice. In singing class she had all the solo parts. She had the Voice of an Angel. You
     would never think that anything ugly and discordant would come out of that mouth, but in the week that I had been her classmate,
     I had learnt my lesson.
    My ears were burning. I sat very still. If I turned round, then she would know that I had heard her.
    “Siss man.”
    I could see her shifting and squirming in her seat, thinking of all the lice crawling about in my hair. Maybe I should shake
     my head to give her a real fright.
    “Girls…”
    Miss Turner handed back the essays. I got a B plus.
    She asked Debbie, Teresa, and me to read our essays out loud to the class. Debbie’s was full of dolphins and beach games.
     Teresa’s was chockablock with wildlife.
    I opened my mouth. “My Holidays.”
    “My Holidays” burst out the whole class.
    “Shush, girls, carry on Linda.”
    “My Holidays. Some days I stayed at my house, but on other days I went on adventures with Nancy Drew. Sometimes I visited
     at Nurse Sue Barton’s hospital to see what was going on there….”
    “But that’s cheating,” said Tracey