Loudmouth Louis - Anne Fine [3]
“Sssh!” Dad said. “You’re talking through that great direct free-kick that sailed in on a perfect curve.”
“The Raffle and the Bring-And-Buy Stall are both being done already,” I told Gran. “And so is the Who-Can-Have- Wet-Sponges-Thrown-At-Them-Longest Competition.”
“People don’t want wet sponges thrown at them, Louis,” Gran said. “What people want is useful things, like having their cars cleaned cheaply. Or nice things, like home-made biscuits.”
She leaned over the sofa.
“You wouldn’t pay to have wet sponges thrown at you, would you, Brian?”
“No,” Dad said. “But I’d give quite a lot of money to be able to sit and watch my video in peace and quiet.”
Gran didn’t even hear him. But I did.
5 In Training
SO THAT’S HOW the brilliant idea was born. Louis Todd’s Great Sponsored Silence.
First, I had to get in training. On Monday, I tried to keep quiet all the way back from Assembly to the classroom. I got as far as the turn in the corridor. Then Lucy said, “Louis –” And I said, “What?”
So that was thirteen seconds.
I had another go back in the classroom.
“I want everyone to be quiet while I give out the measuring kits,” said Miss Sparkes. “And that includes you, Louis.
So I was quiet.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
Thirty.
And then, “I don’t want that one,” I told her. “That one’s got bits missing.”
Thirty-one seconds. If you’re generous
Not very good.
I tried again during Percussion Band. I reckoned that there’d be so much noise going on around me that I could probably give my own voice a rest a bit more easily.
How wrong I was.
First, Mr Hambleton gave me the cowbells to hand out. I gave the first to Melanie (in perfect silence).
Ten seconds. Looking good!
I gave the second to Marisa (in silence too).
Fifteen seconds.
And then I gave the last one to Alfie. “There you go,” I said. “Cowbell. It suits you.”
I hadn’t kept counting, but it wasn’t a record. It would have been eighteen seconds at most.
I gave up for the rest of the class. I like Percussion Band, and keeping quiet when you can hardly be heard over the bongos and chime bars and woodblocks and triangles is pretty much a waste of time. So I only tried again when it was time to collect up the tambourines.
I didn’t speak as I walked round the circle, taking them. But, as I passed George, I couldn’t help giving all four a jolly good rattle, and saying, “iOlé!”
So that was pretty much a waste of effort. (Back to ten seconds at most.) On the way home, I walked by myself as far as the lollipop crossing. Forty-two seconds.
Then Mrs Frier said, “Why are you staring at your watch, Louis? Are you late for something?”
“No,” I said.
Forty-six seconds. Not an impressive record. I was so fed up, I walked home with Emma and talked to her non-stop about Leighton Buzzard Wanderers.
Give up on training for today, I thought, as I walked through the door. No point in trying in the same house as Gran. But I was wrong. As soon as I explained what I was doing, she started rooting through one of the kitchen drawers.
“What are you looking for?”
“Sticky tape.” She held it up. “Just a few inches over your mouth. Trust me, it’ll work a treat.”
And so it did, till Dad came home, and Gran explained.
Dad peeled the tape off.
“Don’t think that poor Miss Sparkes hasn’t dreamed of doing this,” he said. “She’d probably even be happy to pay for the sticky tape out of the money she’d save on her aspirins. But I’m afraid it’s not allowed.”
“But if I’ve agreed …”
Dad shook his head sadly. “Just forget it, son. I am a teacher and I know. Leave her to dream.”
And he slid in his video.
6 A New Manager
WHEN MUM CAME home, she found me crying at the bottom of the stairs.
“What’s all this?”
“Nothing,” I snivelled.
“Come off it, Louis. Something’s wrong. Tell me.”
She pulled me on her knee, and I explained about the sponsored silence, and the sticky tape Gran put on my mouth, and not being able to keep quiet without it.
Mum patted me gently.