Chapter 2
This was all a long time ago so I might have some of it wrong; but my memory of it is that my approaching Tommy that afternoon was part of a phase I was going through around that time–something to do with compulsively setting myself challenges–and I'd more or less forgotten all about it when Tommy stopped me a few days later. I don't know how it was where you were, but at Hailsham we had to have some form of medical almost every week–usually up in Room 18 at the very top of the house–with stern Nurse Trisha, or Crow Face, as we called her. That sunny morning a crowd of us was going up the central staircase to be examined by her, while another lot she'd just finished with was on its way down. So the stairwell was filled with echoing noise, and I was climbing the steps head down, just following the heels of the person in front, when a voice near me went: “Kath!” Tommy, who was in the stream coming down, had stopped dead on the stairs with a big open smile that immediately irritated me. A few years earlier maybe, if we ran into someone we were pleased to see, we'd put on that sort of look. But we were thirteen by then, and this was a boy running into a girl in a really public situation. I felt like saying: “Tommy, why don't you grow up?” But I stopped myself, and said instead: “Tommy, you're holding everyone up. And so am I.” He glanced upwards and sure enough the flight above was already grinding to a halt. For a second he looked panicked, then he squeezed himself right into the wall next to me, so it was just about possible for people to push past. Then he said: “Kath, I've been looking all over for you. I meant to say sorry. I mean, I'm really, really sorry. I honestly didn't mean to hit you the other day. I wouldn't dream of hitting a girl, and even if I did, I'd never want to hit you. I'm really, really sorry.” “It's okay. An accident, that's all.” I gave him a nod and made to move away. But Tommy said brightly: “The shirt's all right now. It all washed out.” “That's good.” “It didn't hurt, did it? When I hit you?” “Sure. Fractured skull. Concussion, the lot. Even Crow Face might notice it. That's if I ever get up there.” “But seriously, Kath. No hard feelings, right? I'm awfully sorry. I am, honestly.” At last I gave him a smile and said with no irony: “Look, Tommy, it was an accident and it's now one hundred percent forgotten. I don't hold it against you one tiny bit.” He still looked unsure, but now some older students were pushing behind him, telling him to move. He gave me a quick smile and patted my shoulder, like he might do to a younger boy, and pushed his way into the flow. Then, as I began to climb, I heard him shout from below: “See you, Kath!” I'd found the whole thing mildly embarrassing, but it didn't lead to any teasing or gossip; and I must admit, if it hadn't been for that encounter on the stairs, I probably wouldn't have taken the interest I did in Tommy's problems over the next several weeks. I saw a few of the incidents myself. But mostly I heard about them, and when I did, I quizzed people until I'd got a more or less full account. There were more temper tantrums, like the time Tommy was supposed to have heaved over two desks in Room 14, spilling all the contents on the floor, while the rest of the class, having escaped onto the landing, barricaded the door to stop him coming out. There was the time Mr. Christopher had had to pin back his arms to stop him attacking Reggie D. during football practice. Everyone could see, too, when the Senior 2 boys went on their fields run, Tommy was the only one without a running partner. He was a good runner, and would quickly open up ten, fifteen yards between him and the rest, maybe thinking this would disguise the fact that no one wanted to run with him. Then there were rumours almost every day of pranks that had been played on him. A lot of these were the usual stuff–weird things in his bed, a worm in his cereal–but some of it sounded pointlessly nasty: like the time someone cleaned a toilet with his toothbrush so it was waiting for him with shit all over the bristles. His size and strength–and I suppose that temper–meant no one tried actual physical bullying, but from what I remember, for a couple of months at least, these incidents kept coming. I thought sooner or later someone would start saying it had gone too far, but it just kept on, and no one said anything.....................
Grade: 7,742!Wow I am just, oh, wait, its actually 17...
My Understanding of the text would be a 4 because my references to the text were minimal, however it seemed like I had novice knowledge as to what the book was about
Effects of literary features would be a 7? I talked a lot about the first person pov its impact on the reader
Organization is a 4, I googled how to structure what I wanted to talk about so I think it worked a little
Language is a 2, I'm not so hot at speaking when I'm #nervous
earned it!
