be right as rain,â he said in English.
âCan I go home, please?â
âNo need for that, old son. Youâll be brand new tomorrow.â He dug into his bag and produced a yellow sucker. âHere, this will make you feel better, you get stuck into that while I fix up these stitches.â
He must have seen the look on my face. âJa, itâs going to hurt a bit, but youâre not going to cry on me now, are you?â
âHeâs a brave boy, Doctor,â Mevrou said, relaxed now that the truth had remained concealed.
Later, dabbing my stitches with Mercurochrome, Dr. Henny said, âWell done. No need for a bandage, weâll be back in a week to remove the stitches.â He turned to Mevrou. âLet me know if he complains of backache.â He took a second sucker from his bag and handed it to me. âThatâs for being extra brave.â
âThank you, sir. Dr. Henny, are you English?â I asked, taking the second sucker.
His expression changed, and I could see that he was upset. âWe are all South Africans, son. Donât let anyone tell you otherwise.â He spoke with a quiet vehemence, then repeated, âDonât let anyone ever tell you anything else!â
I had certainly had better days, but a two-sucker day doesnât come along very often, so it wasnât all bad.
Despite my prisoner of war status, the kids were pretty good for the next few days. My stitches made me a hero in the small kidsâ dormitory, and even Maatie de Jaager kept his loose mouth buttoned for a change.
We had a new teacher, Mrs. Gerber, who turned out to be the wife of the government vet who had once come out to the farm to check Granpaâs black Orpingtons for Newcastle disease. Mrs. Gerber wasnât nervy and I donât think she even knew I was a rooinek. She wasnât a real teacher, so she was quite nice.
There was a rumor going around that Miss du Plessis had suffered a nervous breakdown. I knew, of course, that I was to blame and it struck me with dismay that I had probably been âthe direct cause of my motherâs nervous breakdown as well. I must be a nervous breakdown type of person. First my mother, now Miss du Plessis, and, while I hadnât given Mevrou one yet, I had caused her to piss in her pants, which was probably the next best thing.
Granpa Chook and I discussed our predicament at some length but were unable to reach a useful conclusion. After all, Granpa Chook was a kaffir chicken and they donât have such a good life. One minute youâre walking along scratching about and the next youâre dinner for a jackal or a python, or bubbling away in a three-legged cast iron cooking pot. Granpa Chook, a proven survivor, worked on the principle that if anything bad could happen it would. A five-year-old isnât much of a pessimist, though we agreed that one thing was for sure, something pretty bad was bound to happen.
Chapter Three
THE night after I had my stitches out I was summoned to appear before the Judge and jury.
The Judge had been quite nice to me over the past week and, because of my sore shoulder, hadnât required that I carry his books to school each day. In fact, because Miss du Plessis was generally disliked, Iâd become a bit of a hero.
But rooineks in this part of the world are not designed to be permanent heroes. I knew it would soon come to an end: when the stitches were out, my temporary reprieve would be over. So here I was again, being marched straight into another calamity.
âStand to attention, prisoner Pisskop,â the Judge snarled.
I drew myself up, my arms ramrods at my side. âBring your stupid legs together, man!â one of the jury shouted.
âName?â
I was confused. Everyone knew my name.
âWhat is your name, Pisskop?â the Judge asked again.
âPisskop?â I ventured, still not certain what he meant.
âWhat does your name mean?â
Again I
Lauren Groff
Elizabeth Musser
Jade Lee
Melody Johnson
Colin Evans
Helena Hunting
Sophia Johnson
Kate Avery Ellison
Adam LeBor
Keeley Bates