Catboy - Eric Walters [19]
Mr. Spence didn’t answer right away. He had a thoughtful look on his face. “And that, class, is not a good answer.”
My heart dropped.
“That,” he said, “was a great answer.”
He started clapping and the rest of the class joined in. I felt myself start to blush.
“I’m starting to wonder if both you and Alexander have been looking at my notes,” he said.
“Mr. Spence,” Simon said, “we all talked about where we’re from, but you didn’t tell us where your family is from.”
“I was born in England.”
“But you don’t talk with an accent,” Simon noted.
“Of course I do. Everybody talks with an accent. I just happen to talk with a Canadian accent because I moved here when I was young.”
“So you’re Canadian,” Rupinder said.
“I’m a proud Canadian, born in England, whose parents were from Jamaica, just like Sally and Devon’s families are from Jamaica.”
The bell rang, and people started to rustle.
“Please remember to read tonight and do your journal entries,” Mr. Spence said. “Class dismissed!”
Everybody got to their feet. I was anxious to get moving. Not only was I going to be feeding the cats the KFC my mother had gotten, but I wasn’t going alone. Simon and I had been talking so much about the cats that a few of the other kids had asked if they could come along. So Mohammad, Alexander, Rupinder, Devon and Jaime were going to come with us. Initially I wondered if Jaime, being the only girl, would be uncomfortable. But then I remembered she played soccer with us at recess and handled herself well around the guys. She didn’t take any “guff ” from people, whether they were male or female.
Mr. Spence wandered over to where Simon and I were getting our stuff together at the back.
“I think I’m going a bit crazy,” Mr. Spence said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about chicken all day.”
“I guess that’s my fault,” I admitted reluctantly. I unzipped my backpack, and before I removed the box, the smell wafted out. I pulled the carton partway out.
“You had KFC for lunch?” he said.
“It wasn’t for me, and it’s not really a lunch. It’s just bits and pieces. It’s for the cats.” I quickly explained about the cat colony.
“That’s very nice, but are you sure you should be going in the junkyard?” Mr. Spence asked.
“My mother knows about it,” I said. “She was the one who got me the scraps from KFC.”
“And we go in with Mr. Singh,” Simon added. “He runs the place, and he says he likes us there.”
“Well, as long as your parents know,” he said. Mr. Spence took a deep breath. “I’m definitely having KFC tonight.”
“We have KFC every night at my place,” Simon said.
“You do?” Mr. Spence and I said in unison.
“Sure. KFC, Korean food and chow.”
Eleven
“Are you really, really sure we should be doing this?” Mohammad asked.
“It’s okay. We’re allowed,” I said.
“If I get in trouble, my parents will be really upset with me,” he said.
“Mo, we’re going to feed some cats, not rob a bank,” Simon offered.
“Mohammad, we’re okay,” I said. “We’re going in through the front gate. The security guard, Mr. Singh, will let us in. It’s all good, okay, buddy?”
“Well, okay,” said Mohammad.
While it would have been quicker to cut through the hole in the fence, I wanted everybody to meet Mr. Singh, and I wanted him to meet them.
We were a strange little posse. There was Simon from Korea, Mohammad from Somalia, Jaime from China, Rupinder from India, Devon from Jamaica, and Alexander from Russia. And if you wanted to go back far enough, I was from Scotland. Then again, if you went really far back, we were all probably from Africa.
We were like a slice of the United Nations. We were from all over the world, and we were all friends.
Mr. Singh was in his booth. He saw us coming, gave us a big wave and a big smile. I’d already talked to him about bringing some people with me, so he was expecting us.
“Good day, my friends!” he called out.
I introduced him to everyone. He greeted them all and said something to Rupinder in one