11-15 creativity bash No 4

It was 2:40 on Friday afternoon. Tito sat at his desk and groaned inwardly. From the moment he’d stepped into the shower that morning, he’d known it was going to be one of those days. The shampoo had been used up, the shower gel had lost its bubbles, and the cotton buds had fallen onto his head when he reached for his toothbrush.1

The rain had begun last night, only a slight drizzle at first, but later turning into a torrential downpour. It had stopped for a while now, and outside the window through the blinds which always appeared to Tito to be the bars on a prison cell window, a blackbird could be heard singing merrily. 2

Inside, the classroom was silent, save for the three class idiots messing around, and pencil cases being opened and closed. The noise level steadily increased, but the teacher remained seated at his desk, busily writing. At once his head snapped up, and his small brown hawk-eyes surveyed the room with interest. He remained silent, and eventually returned to his work. The day was grey, but it was still light, and Tito wondered why the big strip lights on the ceiling had been turned on. It was a waste of electricity, and adults seemed so intent on educating the nation’s youth on conservation and money-saving, that it was incredible that they were incapable of following their own advice. 3

Tito rested his arms on the desk and slowly lowered his head. It was not a good idea to have English for the last period on Friday. Although it could be worse, he reflected. It could be Maths or Science.4

After what seemed like the longest 35 minutes of his life, the school bell finally rang to mark the end of the day. Tito charged out of the door. Behind him, he could hear the teacher shouting about an assignment that was due, but Tito didn’t stop to listen. He didn’t know anything about an assignment anyway, so he couldn’t see the point in waiting to hear more.5

He raced out through the side doors of Littlegrove High School (est. 1959), and along with 39 other pupils, piled onto the bus. He managed to get his favourite seat, third row from the front, on the left, by the window. His friend Kriss sat beside him a few seconds later. 6

“Going to town later?” asked Kriss, whose real name was spelt “Chris”, and who wore a baseball cap backwards, to try to convince everyone that he was “cool”, or “with it”.7

“Probably,” replied Tito. Everyone thought that Tito was an unusual name, and generally thought that he was weird, but Tito didn’t mind. Anyway, it wasn’t his fault that his parents had been fans of the Jackson 5. They said that one of the first songs they ever danced to as a couple was performed by the Jackson 5, and his mother, Yvonne, had a crush on Tito Jackson when she was younger. 8

“See you outside Newsmiths at four,” said Kriss.9

“Whatever,” said Tito, suddenly distracted. Looking out of the window, he could see the most beautiful girl in the entire school, Phoebe, who was walking down the path to her dad’s blue Vauxhall. The sunlight briefly caught the sliver clasp on her schoolbag, before she stepped in and was driven away out of sight. The light dazzled his eyes for a moment. So does she, he thought.10

Once off the bus, he walked nonchalantly to his house. No one would be at home yet. His sister Polly was at college, his father Mick was a paramedic and so would be out until later that evening, and his mother Yvonne was working at Heyman’s, the butchers shop, and wouldn’t be back until 5:00. Tito was left to make his own dinner. He decided to have a cheeseburger at McDonald’s in town, to save himself the bother of having to cook. He quickly changed into his football shirt, raided his money box for some money, and dashed outside.11

He reached Newsmiths, the newsagents, ten minutes late. Looking inside the shop, he couldn’t see many people, and wondered if it had closed for some reason. The automatic doors swung open at the realisation of his presence, and he walked in. 12

Kriss came out from behind the book section. 13

“I was looking for that new football book by David Wreckem, but they’ve not got it in yet,” said Kriss, “but the woman told me about this new shop that might have it. It’s just opened in the street where your mum works.”14

“They never have what you’re looking for, this shop,” grumbled Tito. “It’s amazing it’s still open. It sells the things you don’t want, and what you do want, they never sell.”15