Seriously Weird: Gerald's Bird

"The caretaker said we could borrow these," she said.

We grabbed a stick each and tried our sculptures on them. Perfect. Now all we had to do was go out to the playground and push the sticks into the soil.

Gerald carried his bird out to the spot and waited till I helped him with it.

"Don't push it in too far," he said.

I impaled the bird by its stomach and tilted it slightly, to make it look as if it was flying. Gerald was obviously pleased with the effect. He stood back and admired his bird for a long time, as if it was the only sculpture there.

"Clean-up time!" called Mrs Bletcher.

We ran back to the classroom and started to throw our mess into boxes. Gerald stayed out in the playground, still looking at his wax bird. When Mrs Bletcher saw him still there, she didn't say anything. It was like she felt sorry for him too. I thought it was sad. Gerald looked like he was one of the sculptures, only he wasn't on a stick.

He stood very still.

When the final bell went, Camile forgot to take Sweety home. It was just the sort of thing she would do. She was talking her head off as usual, all the way on to the bus, and it wasn't till she got halfway home that she remembered. The other kids thought it was funny, which didn't help, and the driver calmed her down by telling her to ring the school as soon as she got home, which she did.

Mrs Bletcher sighed as she carried the lamb into the classroom. She found a large cardboard box and lined it with newspaper, then she placed the lamb inside and flipped the top flaps over. The lamb bleated to be let out, for a while, then it curled up and went to sleep. When the phone call came through from Camile's dad, Mrs Bletcher told the caretaker to be ready to unlock the classroom when someone came for the lamb, then she went home.

But no-one came. Camile's Mum couldn't drive in to town to get the lamb because Dad had to fix something on the car, and it needed more fixing than he expected, so he wouldn't be finished that night. Camile pleaded with her Mum to help, but she couldn't win.

"Don't worry about it!" said Mum, "It won't die! That lamb's got plenty of fat on it!"