The Doolally Kid by Wendy Milton

Author:Wendy Milton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: junior fiction, children's books, chapter books, fantasy, paranormal, ghosts, action, adventure, survival
ISBN: 978-0-6480574-9-9
Publisher: PawPrint Publishing
Published: 2018-02-22T00:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

It was a feeling Billy shared. When he was painting like Charles, playing like Frederic and dancing like Fred he didn’t feel different, but Big Dog was taking over. He couldn’t believe he’d said ‘Yo man’ to Miss Missenden! That wasn’t him; he hadn’t said that! Sometimes Big Dog’s words came out of his mouth, whether he liked it or not.

‘I dunno,’ he said in answer to Dennis’s question. This time he was speaking in his own voice. ‘I’ll have to ask Aunt Addie.’

Dennis glanced at the stage. ‘I think yer on.’ Mrs Preston had just finished announcing Billy as the final act. Dennis, who’d plugged the USB stick into the hall’s sound system, threw the switch as Billy grooved onto the stage – amidst a general cheer – and watched in awe. How could someone do that who’d had no idea how to do the Roger Rabbit only a few days ago?

Billy was hot; he was hip; he oozed cool; he radiated excitement. He aroused rebellious feelings in children who’d never rebelled, speaking to them in a language different from that of their parents and teachers. His words were wild and stimulating, and children were screaming who’d never screamed at a performance before. At one point Billy leapt off the stage and danced in the aisle, enthralling his young audience with what Mr Morrissey had called ‘compulsive, rhythmical babbling’. But it wasn’t babble. Words and movement and music blended into a coherent message that said, ‘This is the world now. This is your language. This is real.’ It was revolutionary stuff.

Goody-goodies, pussycats, go to school,

Keep the rule.

Dance to the old tune,

Never sing a bold tune.

Never have a thought that is your own.

‘What am I to think, sir?’

‘Can I have a drink, sir?’

‘Is it time to blink, sir?’

Goodies never know.

Cool cats walk to a different beat,

Ain’t no rules in Cool Cat Street.

No tunes, no rules, no teachers’ heat,

No compulsory silence to stop the violence.

Watch your backs you rule-book hacks,

’Cause you can’t see

Where this cool cat’s at.

He ain’t on the mat, man,

He’s takin’ the rap.

Cool cats don’t sit on no damn mat.

When it was over, there was no doubt who’d won. The cheering, clapping and stamping of feet continued long after Billy’s performance ended. The staff, however, had to confirm Billy’s win – and their reactions were mixed. Mr Morrissey looked amused (his feet were still tapping), but Mrs Preston showed no emotion at all. The faces of Mrs Gillespie and Miss Missenden registered horror and disgust.

‘Clearly it’s the O’Connor boy,’ said Mr Morrissey. ‘We can’t argue with that response.’

‘But his grammar!’ argued Mrs Gillespie. ‘And his language! “Cool cats don’t sit on no damn mat”? Appalling! How can we allow him to represent the school?’

‘It’s a talent quest, not a grammar test,’ said Mr Morrissey. ‘Billy has my vote.’

‘Well he doesn’t have mine,’ said Miss Missenden. ‘How can anyone call that music? There’s no tune!’

‘Acts don’t have to be musical,’ said Mr Morrissey. ‘Comedians, jugglers, ventriloquists – their acts aren’t.

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