Sticky Beak Read Online Free Page A

my hand and suddenly there was a clatter of chairs and an empty table in front of us.
    We sat down.
    The people at the next table shifted too.
    I gave them one of my notices as they went.
    The people at the other tables watched me out of the corner of their eyes and muttered to each other.
    We slurped for a while and I wondered gloomily if it’ll take me as long to get used to the sound of muttering as it takes people who live near the railway to get used to the sound of trains.
    Then Amanda’s face lit up.
    â€˜The dribble,’ she said with her hands.
    I stared at her blankly.
    â€˜Last night,’ she continued. ‘You were upset about the dribble.’
    I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I chose my words carefully. I told her it was really thoughtful of her to use her hands so the other people in the milkbar couldn’t eavesdrop, but that unfortunately I didn’t know what she was talking about either.
    She shook her curls, cross with herself, and tried again.
    â€˜The speech,’ she said. ‘You were upset about the speech.’
    Even before her hands stopped moving I knew that was it.
    Last night, before the party, the Social Committee changed their minds about me reading our speech to Ms Dunning. They reckoned if I read it with my hands and Amanda repeated it by mouth it’d take too long.
    I was really hurt and disappointed, but I had an apple fritter and got over it.
    As least, I thought I did.
    Obviously deep inside I didn’t.
    Deep inside I must have wanted to push the whole Social Committee into an apple-polishing machine, but because an apple-polishing machine was too heavy to take to the party, I chucked the Jelly Custard Surprise into the fan instead.
    It’s scary, but at least now I know, which is a big relief.
    â€˜You’re right,’ I said to Amanda. ‘That’s it. Thanks.’
    â€˜It must be pretty frustrating sometimes, having bits missing from your throat,’ said Amanda.
    I nodded.
    I wanted to hug her, but she was still slurping and I knew that if I made another mess my name would be mud in this town for centuries.
    I should have guessed Amanda would come up with the answer. She’s an expert at working out why people do things. When I’d nominated Ms Dunning as Australian Of The Year, Amanda had twigged straight off. ‘It’s to put her at her ease, isn’t it,’ she’d said. ‘Show her you don’t mind her marrying your dad.’ Amazing. I hadn’t even given her a hint.
    And now, even more amazingly, she’d worked out something I didn’t even know myself.
    I gave her a grateful grin and we sat there slurping. Until an awful thought hit me.
    â€˜I’ve been frustrated heaps of times,’ I said to Amanda, ‘but I’ve never chucked a dessert before.’
    We looked at each other and I could tell from her face that she was thinking what I was thinking.
    What if something’s snapped in my brain?
    What if I could chuck something at any time?
    Without knowing in advance?
    I’ll never dare do the eggs again.
    Or carry out a chemistry experiment in class.
    Or handle nonwashable paint.
    My life will be a disaster.
    I could be sent back to a special school.
    Suddenly I knew what I had to do.
    Amanda agreed.
    We said oo-roo and I hit the road.
    I’ve never walked home from town so fast, but you can’t hang about when you’re in desperate need of help and there’s only one person who can give it to you.
    The person who was told last year that if he didn’t start controlling himself and staying out of fights he’d be in deep poo and who’s managed it so well this year that he hasn’t had a single major outburst apart from putting peanut butter in Trent Webster’s ears which doesn’t count because Trent provoked him.
    I can hardly believe I’m doing this.
    Asking Darryn Peck for help.

 
    I knew exactly where to find him.
    In