The Crimes and Punishments of Miss Payne Read Online Free PDF

can't tell with him sometimes. As it turned out, I didn't have to worry. He'd come to thank me. Mind you, it wasn't something he was particularly comfortable with.
    “Wassup, Kiffo?” I said.
    “Wassup, four-eyes?” he replied.
    “You and me for detention, huh?”
    “Not me! I'm not going. She can get stuffed. I'm not staying behind after normal hours. No chance. No way my dad will give permission. I can tell you that for nothing. Bitch. No, I just wanted to say thanks… you know, for sticking up for me.”
    “Think nothing of it, Kiffo.”
    “No. I do. Think something of it, I mean. You didn't have to do it. And I just wanted you to know… well, I just wanted you to know that you're a good mate.”
    “Hey, Kiffo,” I said. “We'll always be good mates. How could we be anything else?”
    “Oh, by the way,” he said. “I did color in a book. Last week. And it was pretty good. Mostly.”
    I looked at him, but his expression was blank. That's the thing with Kiffo. Sometimes you don't have a clue whether he's being serious or sending you up. Then I caught a faint sparkle in his eyes and it occurred to me, not for the first time, that if Kiffo didn't exist, I'd have to invent him.
    I grinned.
    And that was it, really. I didn't give the whole business with Kiffo and the Pitbull much more thought. I turned up to the detention the following day, prepared to do my time. I certainly wasn't expecting Kiffo to be there. But he was. And he was ropeable.
    Year 6, Fourth Term
    There is a red-haired boy sitting on the floor beside the toilet bowl, his left arm draped over the stained porcelain. Tears pour down the freckled map of his face but his expression is blank. His right arm is swinging rhythmically across his knees, his fist smashing into the cubicle wall, sinking into the hole that has resulted from the regular punching. The boy's hand is covered in blood, and you can see that it is broken and swollen.
    You're frightened, not so much by the violence, but by the calm manner in which it is being inflicted. You crouch down and touch the boy gently on the knee.
    “Are you okay?” You instantly feel ashamed at the stupidity of the question. The boy looks up but doesn't change his routine. The fist slams into the wall again. He doesn't flinch.
    “Fuck off,” he says, without malice.
    You run. You run to find a teacher. You run to tell your story of a boy, a toilet and a fist that will hammer inside your head forever.

Chapter 4
Conversations with the refrigerator
    Dear Fridge
,
    The casserole was great! Thanks. However, I feel that our intimate dinner was something of a flop. I made the effort, God knows. Candles, mood music. But, frankly, you were not receptive to my conversational overtures. In fact, solid presence though you undoubtedly are in my life, I sometimes feel that our relationship is not what it once was. We need to talk.
    In the meantime, my new English teacher, a charming woman of considerable charisma, has requested my presence at an after-school meeting tomorrow. Would you be so kind as to sign the attached permission slip?
    Your loving daughter,
Calma
    Dear Calma
,
    Permission slip signed. What have you been up to? Can you heat up a pizza for dinner tonight? I'm on late shift at the supermarket, so I'll have to go straight to the pub. Will be home about two. Don't wake me, please.
    Can you cut out the sarcasm in the notes? To be honest, I'm too tired to deal with it.
    Love,
Mum
    Dear Fridge
,
    How can you be so coldhearted?
    Love,
Calma

Chapter 5
Crime and punishment, part one
    Two bloody hours! That's how long the detention was! I couldn't believe it. It wasn't even as if there was any educational value. Kiffo and I weren't told to do any work. In fact, we were expressly forbidden from reading. Not that Kiffo would have wanted to read, but I certainly did. We just had to sit there, at opposite ends of the classroom, staring at the front where the Pitbull was marking exercise books. Have you any idea