Cloud Busting Read online

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  1. Mr Mackie Said

  2. What’s in a Name?

  3. Facing the Truth – with Haikus

  4. Descriptions

  5. Poems Posted Around the School – By You Know Who

  6. Putting the Boot In

  7. Standing Proud

  8. The Truth Hurts

  9. Setting the Scene

  10. Maps of Actions and Life

  11. Shadow

  12. Sorry

  13. No Big Deal

  14. Big Mistake

  15. Too Hot

  16. Just a Joke

  17. Fine

  18. How Could You?

  19. Davey’s Gone

  20. OK

  21. Cloud Busting

  22. What Should’ve Happened

  23. What Did Happen

  24. After

  25. Away

  26. Homework

  A Note from the Author

  About the Author

  Also by Malorie Blackman

  Copyright

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  He’s gone.

  And it’s his fault –

  The fault of the class idiot

  The class bully …

  Davey is a new boy and Sam can’t stand him. He thinks Davey is a first-class, grade A, top-of-the-dung-heap moron. But when the two are thrown together, Sam discovers that Davey’s eccentric way of looking at the world makes life a lot more exciting.

  Until something terrible happens …

  A beautiful, funny and sad story, told completely in verse.

  To Neil and Lizzy, with my love.

  And thanks, Lizzy, for the phrase ‘Fizzy Feet’,

  which was the inspiration for this book.

  I love you.

  ‘Dare to be different.’

  I want to write about Davey

  Because Mum says

  You don’t miss the water

  Till the well runs dry.

  I want to write about Davey

  Because when he was here

  I never gave him a second thought.

  I want to write about Davey

  Because now he’s gone

  I can’t get him out of my head.

  And I never thought I would,

  But I miss him.

  Told in verse, this is the touching story of an extraordinary friendship that changes two boys’ lives for ever. An uplifting tale that truly sings out, from multi-award-winning author Malorie Blackman.

  www.kidsatrandomhouse.co.uk

  MR MACKIE SAID

  Mr Mackie said,

  ‘Write a poem

  About

  Someone near to you,

  Dear to you.

  A pet,

  A family member,

  A friend.’

  Funny, I thought,

  How pets come first.

  ‘That’s your homework,’

  Said Mr Mackie.

  And the whole class groaned.

  Except me.

  ‘But poems are hard, sir!’

  ‘Poems are boring!’

  ‘Poems are for old people.’

  ‘Poems are for boring, old people.’

  ‘No one reads poetry –

  Unless their teacher makes them.’

  ‘No one likes poetry except

  Poets –

  Or those who don’t have a life.’

  And Mr Mackie said,

  ‘ENOUGH!’

  And we all went quiet

  ’Cause Mr Mackie sure can shout.

  Then Mr Mackie said,

  ‘Hands up those who like rap music.’

  And me and some others

  Put our hands up.

  ‘Hands up those who like pop music.’

  And me and most others

  Put our hands up.

  ‘Hands up those who like classical music.’

  And me and almost everyone

  Kept our hands down.

  Except for Oliver.

  Only Oliver

  Put his hand up.

  But then he would.

  And Mr Mackie said,

  ‘Rap music and pop

  And punk and rock

  Have words.

  And the words are poetry

  Set to music,

  That’s all.’

  ‘What about classical music?’

  Asked Oliver.

  But then he would.

  ‘Classical music creates poetry

  In your mind.

  And your heart.

  And your soul.

  Even if there are no words

  Being sung or spoken,

  It still creates poetry

  Inside you.’

  And we all went quiet

  Thinking.

  Thinking.

  And the strange thing is

  No one laughed.

  Mr Mackie smiled.

  ‘Any questions?’

  Hands shot up.

  ‘Does it have to rhyme, sir?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How do we start, sir?’

  ‘With whatever comes

  Into your head.

  Just let it out.

  Don’t hold back.

  Don’t stop yourselves.

  Don’t censor yourselves.

  Let your words flow

  Like a mountain stream

  Like a babbling brook

  Like a raging river

  Like a tidal wave

  A tsunami!

  Like a cosmic wave,

  Moving between galaxies.

  Like a … like a …’

  And we all groaned

  ’Cause Mr Mackie was off

  Like a racehorse

  Running its own race.

  Just running ’cause it can,

  Running to hear its hooves

  Pound the ground.

  Just running, running

  For love and pleasure.

  ‘Sir, can I write about

  My dog?

  My cat?

  My goldfish?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Sir, can I write about

  My computer?

  My skateboard?

  Jaws, my teddy bear?’

  ‘No.’

  I put my hand up.

  ‘Sir, can I write about Davey?’

  The class went very still …

  Very quiet.

  My face began to burn

  Burn hot then

  Burn cold.

  ‘Yes, Sam, you do that,’

  Said Mr Mackie after the longest pause.

  ‘Write about Dave.’

  ‘What d’you want to write

  About him for?’

  That was Alex,

  Talking at me.

  Frowning at me.

  Davey made him nervous,

  Uncomfortable.

  Uneasy.

  Because of what he did.

  Even though Davey isn’t

  Here any more

  He still has the power

  To make people

  Uncomfortable,

  Uneasy,

  … to remember.

  I didn’t answer

  My ex-best friend Alex.

  What could I say?

  I want to write about Davey

  Because Mum says

  You don’t miss the water

  Till the well runs dry.

  I want to write about Davey

  Because when he was here

  I never gave him a second thought.

  I want to write about Davey

  Because now he’s gone

  I can’t get him out of my head
.

  And I never thought I would,

  But I miss him.

  There!

  I admit it.

  He’s gone.

  And it’s his fault –

  The fault of the class idiot

  The class bully.

  And I miss him.

  Not the class idiot.

  He’s gone too and

  I don’t miss him one bit.

  I miss Davey.

  His name was Davey.

  Dave.

  David Youngson.

  But everyone called him Fizzy Feet.

  WHAT’S IN A NAME?

  What’s in a name? Not much.

  That’s what the class idiot said

  After Davey’s name

  Was changed to Fizzy Feet.

  It happened in assembly –

  The second or third morning

  After the long summer break,

  About seven or eight months ago.

  Maybe less, maybe more.

  It was a long time ago,

  But memories are longer.

  Davey sat in front of me.

  His light-brown hair

  Wasn’t long enough

  To hide the frayed collar

  Of his shirt.

  His navy-blue school jumper

  Had a small hole

  At the elbow.

  I shook my head and turned away.

  My mum would never

  Let me leave home

  With holes at my

  Elbows. No way!

  Davey was the new boy,

  Full of uncertain smiles

  And anxious eyes

  And not much else.

  My best friend Alex

  Sat next to me

  On my right

  Playing with his Gameboy.

  And on my left

  Alicia. A-lic-i-a!

  A name like April showers

  Dropping gently onto spring flowers.

  (Not that I’ll leave in

  The bit about Alicia

  When I hand this poem

  To Mr Mackie. No way!)

  Mrs Spencer, the head,

  Was droning on

  And on

  And on …

  I was sleeping

  With my eyes open

  When it happened.

  Waking us all up.

  Davey jumped up,

  Fell sideways

  And started rubbing his legs

  Saying, ‘Fizzy feet! I’ve got fizzy feet!’

  We didn’t have a clue

  What he was talking about.

  Mr Mackie ran over

  To sort him out.

  ‘Dave, what’s the matter?

  What’s wrong?

  What’s going on?’

  Mr Mackie was all concern.

  ‘Fizzy feet!

  I’ve got fizzy feet!’

  Davey pulled off his shoes

  And rubbed his toes. (What a pong!)

  ‘What’re you talking about?’

  Mr Mackie began to frown.

  ‘D’you mean you’ve got

  Pins and needles?’

  ‘Ow! Yes, that’s what I said, sir!

  Fizzy feet!’

  A moment’s stunned silence.

  Then we all roared like we had toothache.

  Mr Mackie ranted

  Mr Mackie raved

  Mr Mackie was not happy

  As he escorted Davey from the hall.

  Fizzy feet,

  Dizzy, fizzy feet

  Busy, dizzy, fizzy feet

  What a dork!

  Davey never lived that down.

  The class bully

  Wouldn’t let him.

  What a dork.

  Davey hated the name

  Fizzy Feet

  But what could he do about it?

  Not much. Nothing.

  The class bully wouldn’t let him.

  FACING THE TRUTH – WITH HAIKUS

  Mr Mackie said,

  ‘Today, you lucky people,

  We’re doing haikus!’

  ‘What’s one of them, sir?’

  ‘Poems to stir the senses,

  Plus, they’re very short.

  A mere three lines long

  Just seventeen syllables

  Simple, pimple – right?

  Three lines made up of

  Words which are five syllables

  Then seven, then five.’

  ‘Haikus,’ Alex groaned.

  ‘What a waste of time and space.’

  I didn’t think so.

  ‘Japanese poems.

  Haikus …’ sighed Mr Mackie.

  ‘A pure, paced rhythm.’

  ‘But sir,’ said Alex,

  ‘Haikus mean lots of counting.

  That’s not fair! That’s maths!’

  ‘Haikus are art, child.

  Full of heart, soul and passion

  So let your mind soar.’

  ‘To where? And what for?’

  ‘To the stars and beyond, child.’

  ‘And when I land, sir?’

  Mr Mackie frowned,

  Scratched his head and frowned some more.

  ‘You’ll have memories.’

  ‘Big deal!’ Alex scoffed.

  And that was the end of that.

  Haikus bit the dust.

  Haiku for Davey:

  We should’ve been friends

  But the bad thing that happened

  To you changed my life.

  DESCRIPTIONS

  The class bully was

  A mean, mad moron

  An insane idiot

  A dopey dweeb

  A prize poop-head

  A narrow-minded no-hoper

  A hurtful, horrible person.

  And everyone knew it.

  The class beauty was

  Alicia.

  Gorgeous

  A great singer

  A great looker

  Funny

  Talented

  Keen on Fizzy Feet – called him Dave.

  Fizzy Feet was

  Good and tall

  Good and skinny

  Good and quiet

  A good laugh (according to Alicia)

  Good at maths

  Good at being friendly

  Not so good with the class bully though.

  POEMS POSTED AROUND THE SCHOOL – BY YOU KNOW WHO

  When I see scabby Dave, how I laugh!

  He’s got legs like a knock-kneed giraffe

  And his bum is so smelly

  It appeared on the telly

  ’Cause he never once gets in the bath.

  There once was a moron called Dave

  Who belonged in a zoo or a cave

  He had holes in his clothes

  And snot in his nose

  And his eyebrows could do with a shave.

  Said directly to Fizzy Feet:

  You’re a big dork-head called Davey

  You’re thicker than twelve-day-old gravy

  My dog did a poo

  That was smarter than you

  From your breath, I wish someone would save me!

  PUTTING THE BOOT IN

  STANDING PROUD

  Davey never shouted, never bolted,

  He stood his ground, he watched and he waited,

  He did not seem to realize the effect

  Just standing there, not uttering a word

  Had on the class bully, the school bully.

  A faint, sad smile would play across his lips

  As he stood before the one who hurt him.

  A smile that just had to be wiped away,

  Washed away, knocked away, smashed far away,

  But Davey just stood proud and never spoke.

  THE TRUTH HURTS

  I want to tell you the truth

  Time to tell you the truth

  Cards on the table

  Get it off my chest

  Open my mind and

  Reveal all!<
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  The class bully

  The class moron

  The class idiot

  His name was Sam

  In case you haven’t already guessed

  I am Sam

  Sam is me

  I’m the one who made

  Davey’s life a misery.

  SETTING THE SCENE

  It was a strange day

  Some sunshine

  Some rain

  Some cloud

  Some blue sky

  A mixed bag.

  Roll up, roll up

  Dip your hand in

  And pull out

  Any kind of weather.

  MAPS OF ACTIONS AND LIFE

  Fizzy Feet lived two doors down

  From the class bully – me.

  Our mums became great friends.

  They wanted their sons to be good friends too.

  Every morning Mum said,

  ‘Sam, why don’t you go and knock for Dave?’

  ‘I don’t want to walk to school with him,’

  I sniffed. ‘Davey’s a dork!’

  ‘Go and be friendly,’ Mum insisted.

  So I’d knock for Davey, with my mum watching.

  And once we’d turned the corner

  I’d make Davey pay.

  But one rainy morning … I went too far.

  I was just mucking about

  I didn’t mean to hurt him

  Not seriously hurt him

  But I pushed him

  And Davey snapped

  And pushed me back

  And I tripped

  And I slipped

  And I fell backwards

  Into the path of an oncoming car

  And the car didn’t have time to stop …

  I heard brakes screech

  And someone scream

  And then … a hand came out of nowhere

  And grabbed me

  And pulled me out of harm’s way.

  Seconds came and went before I

  Realized what had happened.

  Davey had saved my life.

  Davey had actually saved my life.

  The driver tooted her horn

  And shook an angry fist

  But she didn’t stop.

  She didn’t even slow down.

  A man, a pedestrian asked me,

  ‘Are you OK?’

  I didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer.

  I couldn’t hear a thing

  Over the thundering of my heart.

  And then Davey smiled

  Just smiled. And turned to the man, the pedestrian

  And said, ‘My friend is fine.’

  And I felt so strange

  ’Cause we weren’t friends

  And Davey had saved my life.

  And all I could think was,

  ‘Why did he do it?’

  And all I could feel was

  I’M ALIVE. Thank God!

  And all I could hear was