Miss Understood by James Roy Page B

being very clear or making much sense.
    ‘What I’m saying is that I need to get some hooks. For the whipper snipper. Which keeps falling on my head.’
    ‘Oh,’ I answered. ‘So why didn’t you say that?’
    He sighed. ‘Anyway, tell Mum where I’m going. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes.’
    ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Have fun.’
    He was almost at the door when he stopped and turned back. ‘Hey, d’you want to come with me, Betty?’
    ‘To the hardware shop? Are you going anywhere else?’
    Dad shrugged. ‘I was thinking we might be able to find the time for a quick visit to The Green Gecko.’
    ‘I’ll get my shoes and tell Mum I’m coming with you,’ I said.
    So now I guess you’re wondering what The Green Gecko is. It’s only the coolest cafe in the world. Okay, I know I haven’t been to every single cafe in the world – there might only be three or four people who have – but I’m pretty sure that this one would be in the top ten at least. I especially like the green that they’ve painted the walls. It’s not an ordinary green – it’s kind of greyish-green. Once, me and Dad tried to think of what else might be the same colour. I thought it was the leaves on a gum tree, but Dad reckoned it was more like the colour of the waves at his favourite beach at Seal Rocks. I’ve never been to Seal Rocks, so I don’t know who’s right. Maybe we both are, since I could be thinking about a kind of gum tree that’s different from the kind of gum tree he’s thinking of. I mean, there are heaps of different kinds of gum tree, aren’t there? And a few different kinds of waves, too, I guess.
    We also like the little booths they have at The Green Gecko. The seats are just wood, but they have all these bright cushions that you can sit on, or just slouch against. And the food is really good, too. Once Dad wrote a glowing review about it, and now Lou (he’s the owner) gives us special prices whenever we go there.
    But first we had to visit the hardware shop and buy the hooks for the whipper snipper (as well as four folding camping chairs, a couple of those bamboo mozzie torch thingos, and a big bag stuffed with rags which Dad didn’t really need, but would definitely use at some stage).
    When we got to The Green Gecko, Lou was behind the huge silver coffee machine, making it whoosh and hiss. ‘Hey, look who it is! Great to see you guys!’ he called out. ‘It’s been a couple of weeks, huh?’
    ‘About that,’ Dad said.
    ‘Welcome back. Sit anywhere you like – I’ll just finish this, and I’ll come over.’
    We sat in our favourite booth, which is in the far corner. I like to sit with my back to the wall so I can see the other customers. I sit and watch everyone coming in and going out and sitting down and talking and playing with their phones and reading their books and playing chess and arguing and holding hands and breaking up. (I don’t actually like that last one, but I find it interesting.)
    Lou came over before we’d even had a chance to look at the menus. That’s okay, though, because we usually know what we’re going to get even before we go in past the strings of wooden beads that hang in the doorway.
    ‘Afternoon, guys,’ Lou said. ‘What can I get you? Let’s start with the lady. Betty?’ (Lou’s the only person other than my dad who gets to call me Betty. I guess it’s because the first time I met him, Dad introduced me that way, and it just stuck. I don’t really mind, so long as it doesn’t take off. I really wouldn’t like it if everyone called me that.)
    ‘Have you got any of that yummy apple crumble?’ I asked him. ‘Because I’d like some of that, and an iced chocolate, please.’
    Dad cleared his throat and looked a bit embarrassed. ‘You know, we might not eat anything today, Betty. Maybe just the iced chocolate.’
    Lou waved his hand at Dad. ‘Don’t worry about it, Marty. It’s all good, my friend.’ Then he looked at me again. ‘Cream with your