The Insiders by Cath Howe

Author:Cath Howe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nosy Crow
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

When we walked home, we all ignored each other. Ted disappeared without his usual wave. Back at my house, I told Nico not to play on his skateboard in front of the other kids or let my mum and dad see it.

“Well, if that’s how you feel,” he snapped.

“Yes, it is how I feel,” I snapped back.

Nico sulked in the summerhouse. He treated the skateboard like a pet, smoothing the curved sides, running the wheels across his palms. It should have been hilarious, but it wasn’t. Zara practised maths questions. “It’s the Maths Challenge tomorrow. None of you even care,” she said. She got out a Maths Made Easy book and worked on it like a person doing an exam. Zara can be the most boring person in the world sometimes!

She was right; I didn’t care about the Maths Challenge. She was annoying me. Not as much as Nico, but definitely annoying.

Just before tea, Zara looked up from her book and said, “Let’s tell your mum about going in school. Let’s just do it. Get it out of the way.”

Nico looked at her as if she’d suggested flying to the moon. “Why would you tell an adult, Zara? That’s idiotic!”

“Because what we did was wrong.”

Nico pretty much boiled over. “They’d make me give my skateboard back. Dunlop would keep it for the rest of the year! Anyway, you’re just as much to blame for going under the fence the first time.”

“You persuaded us.”

“You’ve got a brain, Zara! You chose to go in the playground.”

“Not the second time. Not when you and Callie went inside.”

“Ooh, Goody-Goody Miss Perfect. Whose side are you on?” Nico roared.

They snapped and sniped at each other. I just wished they’d go home.

We didn’t tell Mum. We arrived in the kitchen to chaos – Chloe had bashed her knee skidding on a plastic truck that someone had left in the hall. We ended up clearing all the plastic toys into a crate, laying the table and helping put out food.

“You’re all quiet,” Mum said brightly, when Chloe’s screaming had died down a bit. “Thank goodness for my sensible big ones.”

We’re not sensible, I wanted to shout. We’re not sensible at all!

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