Angie and Me

Copyright © 2022 Ben Skelker

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Vered Skelker

Contents

Copyright

Preface

1. Angie Arranges Her Desk

2. Day by Day

3. Weekends

4. Spelling Test

5. Half a Day

6. Schemes and Plans

7. Campaigning

8. Fundraising

9. Training

10. Handouts

11. Hopeful Signs

12. Class Explosions

13. Team Building 1

14. Team Building 2

15. Day Trip

16. Glasses or Spectacles

17. The Day Is Confirmed

18. Finishing Touches

19. Action Day: Start

20. Action Day: Boom

21. A Bit of Trouble

22. Dad Makes Me Proud

23. A Lot of Trouble

Epilogue

Acknowledgement

Complaints

Preface

A long, long time ago…

Fairy Tales and other films

Meet Angie. She’s my best friend, always has been. We’ve known each other since before we can remember, since before we had teeth and I lost a couple of them skateboarding. Back then, when we were young, me and Angie had to sneak out of the house quietly. We couldn’t just go up to adults and ask for permission to play outside like we can now. When we were that young, the adults (especially at my house) always used to give us mean answers like ‘OK, in the garden,’ which isn’t the best place for skateboarding. Although, I’ll admit, Angie’s garden is better than mine for skateboarding because she’s got patios.

Outside, that’s where things happen. Just round the back of my house, down the footpath, there’s a really steep, cobblestone pavement. That’s where I lost my teeth. That day was double fun and it had been my idea. I was lying down, holding on with my hands to one skateboard under my head, neck and chest, and another skateboard supporting my stomach. Two skateboards, one skater - perfect. I was bumping down the pavement slightly faster than the speed of sound when I must have skated over a stone that was too cobbled and banged, face first, into a garden wall. All of me was grazed and my clothes were torn. When I lifted my hand ‘cause my mouth was hurting, I realised there was nothing where there was supposed to be a couple of front teeth. I looked at the blood on my hand and shouted out to Angie. She ran over and immediately stuffed her handkerchief between the gap in my teeth and told me to shut my mouth. She then bent over, searching the pavement for my missing teeth.

‘If we find my teeth, can we push them back in?’ I asked.

‘Probably. When you can stand up straight, crouch down and help me look.’ I pulled myself up, bent over and waited for the dizziness to pass.

‘My mum is going to go mad. It’s bad enough when I come home covered in mud. God knows what she’ll do when I’m covered in blood. She’s always going on about being careful.’

‘We’ll have to tell her you were mugged. You can say that you saved me if you want.’

‘Or bullied,’ I suggested. ‘Some older kids at school were upset when I beat them in a race.’

‘You better shut up because your mouth’s still bleeding. If you lose too much blood, they’ll have to cut your legs off ‘cause there won’t be enough blood to reach them.’

‘Found one,’ I said happily, holding the tooth high in the air.

‘Hey, here’s the other,’ Angie smiled. ‘Quick, let’s go back round through the little lane and then up to the fields. If adults see us like this, we’ll have to declare a national emergency.’

So we ran off to the fields. At least the skateboards were alright. The problem was, even when we got to the fields, the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Angie advised me not to speak for at least a year. That sounded OK but I wasn’t sure Mum wouldn’t notice the damage even if I didn’t say anything.

‘Let me try and push the teeth back in. That might stop the bleeding.’

‘OK,’ I agreed, pulling the handkerchief from my mouth.

‘Oh,’ Angie said, ‘I thought the teeth had come out, but they’re just broken. We need to glue them back in.’

‘We can go back to one of ours and have a go.’

‘Do you know where your parents keep the glue? We’re going to need strong adult stuff. Pritt stick won’t work.’

‘I think I do. In Mum’s box at the top of the cupboard. Should we go back to mine then?’

‘Yes. My parents don’t like glue. They say it always ends up making a sticky mess.’

We started walking, running and skating back to my house. Before we entered my road, we got off the skateboards and walked quietly to my house. We peered round the front wall and saw Mum’s car in the drive.

‘This isn’t going to be easy,’ I mumbled through the handkerchief.

‘We’ve got two options,’ Angie said. ‘We can stealth it, which means we go inside and up to your room without anyone seeing or hearing us. I can then creep down and get the glue if you tell me where it’s kept. Or we can hustle it, which means I go and chat with your Mum while you go and get the glue, and then wait for me in your bedroom.’

‘Better stealth it. Otherwise she’ll hassle me about not saying hi.’

‘Let’s leave the skateboards in the garden. We’ll be quieter that way. On the count of three. Remember, when you stealth it, you must be very, very quiet. OK?’

‘Yep, OK.’

‘One, two, three.’ We started creeping, bent low, through the parking lot at the front of my house and arrived at the door. It was always unlocked during the day, but turning the handle was a delicate task better left to Angie.

Angie managed to open the front door silently, and we made our way to the staircase. We could hear the radio coming through from the kitchen and Mum singing along. Something about not misbehaving and Jack Horner being stuck in a corner. There were also the odd sounds of cupboards and drawers being opened and shut, cups and plates being set on counter tops and cutlery jangling. Mum must’ve been getting supper ready. Just before the stairs, I mouthed ‘over there’ to Angie, pointing out where Mum keeps stuff like glue. The handkerchief fell to the floor and Angie hushed me. I quickly picked it up, and we tiptoed upstairs to my room.

‘Did you see the cupboard by the stairs?’ I asked Angie.

‘Yes.’

‘The glue is on the top shelf.’

Angie quietly left the room. A few minutes later she returned with superglue in her hand.

‘Mission accomplished.’ Angie said. ‘It wasn’t easy. Just as I was coming to the corner of the stairs, I heard footsteps - patter, patter, patter - coming towards the hallway. I froze. I knew the lightest breath could give us away. I felt my heart pounding inside me. It sounded like a drum. Boom, boom, boom. My hands got all hot and sticky. I watched from the corner, crouched down behind the banister, as your mum opened the cupboard and took out a pair of scissors. I couldn’t believe our bad luck. Of all the mums and all the scissors in all the world, how come this particular mum wanted this particular pair of scissors at this particular time? But I was brave, bold and silent. She didn’t see me. She just took the scissors and walked back towards the kitchen as if she didn’t have a worry in the world. My heart relaxed and my hands cooled. I crept down the rest of the staircase as quiet as nothing. I was scared the cupboard would creak as I opened it. So I pulled on the handle very, very gently. It made no sound. I tried to get the glue. But I’m too short. Just a bit. I couldn’t reach it. I thought about jumping, but it would make too much noise. For a moment, I was stumped. But then I noticed, in the corner of the hall just by the front door, a coat stand. Perfect for climbing, I thought to myself. It even had little hooks for umbrellas halfway up.’

‘I know what our coat stand looks like. Mum moans that we don’t hang our coats up properly and then they end up on the floor.’

‘Yeah, there might be a few coats on the floor and I might have broken two of the umbrella hooks and one of the coat hooks.’

‘Mum’s going to go mad.’

‘Don’t worry about it. She won’t notice. I put everything back in place carefully, placed the broken umbrella hooks in someone’s coat pocket and balanced the broken coat hanger on the ones that are OK.’

‘Good thinking.’

‘Here’s the glue. I think you should sit on the bed, head back, mouth open wide. Shame you don’t have a dentist’s chair here. It’d make everything easier.’

‘Do you think we should brush the teeth before sticking them back in?’

‘Hmm. You can eat sweets off the floor, so I don’t think so. It’s best to glue the teeth stubs left in your mouth and the broken ones. Double sticking power.’ Angie took one of the broken teeth and started rubbing and polishing it on her T-shirt. She then placed it on my bedside table and unscrewed the tube of glue, held the tooth up to light and said ‘Got to make sure I put the right tooth back the right way up or you’ll end up with wonky chewing.’ While she was still examining the tooth we heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

‘Chuffy,’ Mum called (my nickname). ‘Sam, are you there? Is everything OK? Why is there blood in the hall and on the stairs?’

‘Oh no,’ I said out loud.

‘Shush,’ Angie hushed. ‘She might be just checking. She might not even open the door.’

Angie is often right, but I knew she was wrong that time. After living with Mum as long as I had, I knew that if she was climbing the stairs calling out my name she was going to open my bedroom door. And she did. Time got stuck for a second or two as she looked from me to Angie and back again.

‘We’re just doing our homework,’ Angie explained. ‘Ms Turtle asked us to find out about dentists and rearranging teeth. Sam insisted on taking some of his teeth out ‘cause Ms Turtle is always cross with him and says he never does his homework, which is an outright lie because sometimes he does.’

Mum stared in through the doorway with a face so fierce she’d probably scare Dave’s dad, the cop. ‘Bloody hell,’ Mum said, and that meant she was really, really not happy. She walked over to us, towering over me like some oversized parent, looked at my face and mouth and said ‘Your mouth. Your teeth. What happened?’ She then held out her arm in Angie’s direction. ‘Give me the tooth. Have you got anymore?’ Angie handed over the other one. ‘Is that all?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Only two. I didn’t want Ms Turtle to think I’m swotting.’

‘Bloody hell,’ mum said again as she looked at my mouth. ‘What really happened?’

‘I had a little crash. Nothing really. Angie is about to glue the teeth back in.’

‘Glue your teeth back! You’re both out of your minds. Come on, we need to get you to dental surgery. Come, come. Right now.’

‘You were going to superglue your teeth back?’ Mum asked as we were walking downstairs.