Extraordinary Losers 1
Read Extraordinary Losers 1 Online
Authors: Jessica Alejandro
OPERATION
PANTS ON FIRE
JESSICA ALEJANDRO
ILLUSTRATED BY CHERRYN YAP
Contents
To Dad and Mum, for being Extraordinary
CHAPTER 1: NOT WHAT IT SEEMS
All of us at Brightstar Primary were handed a quiz sheet. I hadn't known that my answers to the questions would mark the start of a new beginning. We had always been the misfits, the outcasts and the “losers” in class. Losers? If you are thinking⦠someone who stinks at sports and is into poetry⦠Yup, that's me. Darryl De.
Do I always forget to bring my books to school? Yes. Do I take 30 minutes to complete a 2.4km run? Yes. Do I have extremely dirty ears? Yes. Am I an important rep in class? No. (I am the notice board rep, by the way. How lame is that?) But just as the ugly duckling becomes a beautiful swan, and every dog has its day, well, every loser has his day too. This is our story, right here, right now. And it only gets betterâ¦
“Darrrrryyyyylll!” Mum hollered.
Dad had left us about a year ago and Mum tries to make up for it by showering us regularly with gifts. Unfortunately, a chess set and a second-hand Snap card game aren't exactly my kind of toys. At that moment, she was marching towards me proudly with a gift in her hand.
“Here, you do the honours!” Mum said, handing me a bundle of cables. She gave me a wet screechy smooch in my ear. (I hate those! They give me headaches.)
“Me?”
“Yes, you! Who else? Aren't you the man of the house now, Darryl? It's Xbox Kinect!!!” she shrieked. “Do look more excited!”
True, it was the coolest thing to have, and I finally had something to boast about in school.
“Quick, Darryl!” she continued. “Plug in the cables! I am itching to dance!” I had not seen Mum so happy since Dad left us.
“I know, Mum, give me a minute!” Plugging in cables was a serious matter. I was on my knees, figuring out which wire went where. Mum rushed into her room and, in a flash, rushed out again â in all of Superman's colours. She was wearing her blue aerobic slacks, a bright red leotard and a red-and-blue polka-dotted bandana. Her Super Mum outfit? Uh oh.
“We'll just play the dancing one. Dance Central. They gave us a game for free.”
“Great,” Sophia scoffed. “Seriously?”
She was on the laptop tapping away. Sophia is my elder sister. She is a year older than me, in Primary 6. She is at that age when all you think about is the tall basketballer in your class. The annoying age when the mirror is your best friend and worst enemy (especially on spot-the-zit day). Both of us have nothing much in common except that (1) we are in the same school and (2) we share the same Math teacher â Miss Jacobs.
“Hurry up, boy,” Mum yelled shrilly.
“Oh my goodness! Darryl, just get on with it already, how hard is it?” Sophia chimed in, half typing, half checking out her reflection.
“Okay! Almost⦠almost⦠almost there,” I said as I plugged in the last cable, pretending to look excited. What's the use of an Xbox Kinect if you can't destroy monsters and zap terrorists?
Then without warningâ¦
“BA DA DE DUM!” The upbeat music assailed my ears and joggled the television. Our domestic helper Maryanne rushed out from the laundry room to watch Mum in all her “splendour”. With my eardrums about to explode, I inched my way out of the girly tumult.
“One, two, three! Here we go!” She jiggled her hips a little and swung her arms wildly, in all but the correct direction. Maryanne joined Mum too.
“Ma'am, this is very fun!” Maryanne said, beaming. “Good exercise too!”
“Uh huh,” Mum said, sensing the competition. “Only for a few minutes, Maryanne. After this, you have to cook!”
“Who are you typing to, Soph?” I asked on my way to my room. “You have been at it all day!”
“No one!” She slammed the laptop shut. I knew better. It was definitely SOMEONE.
It was the sixth week of school when the news hit us in Primary 5B real bad. We had a new form teacher. Mr Sebastian Grosse (who's what nightmares are made of). His name conjures up images of diarrhoea.
Everyone booed. The monotone voice coming from the speakers explained that our form teacher was on maternity leave. Suddenly, I heard the unmistakable footsteps of a man strutting towards us. He was a block away, but was approaching class 5B at full speed. Images of grossness were already playing in my head.
“Er, hey, everyone, I think Mr Grosse is on his way,” I announced.
Everyone froze, listened hard and then laughed.
“I can't hear anything!” Justin argued.
“What a loser, Darryl!” Leonard sneered. “You must be shaking in your pants right now.”
“No, I can seriously hear him. He is approximately two minutes and 10 seconds away,” I insisted. The whole class chorused in laughter.
Leonard continued, “If you clean those filthy, filthy ears of yours, maybe we'll appoint you as class watchman. But for now, get a life!”
“Yeah, Darryl. Get a life!” Justin parroted. Leonard was the school's basketball team champion. Justin was his sidekick (off the court too).
No one believed me or my trusty ears. The boys went back to trading cards. The girls were, well, being girls by talking too shrilly.
Mundi Sakdipa was quietly seated. His big eyes widened, shocked at the unruly behaviour of local kids. His long eyelashes fluttered and fluttered in nervousness. Everything about him was curly-wurly: his handwriting, his big mop of curly hair and his long curly eyelashes. Even the sing-song way he spoke sounded, well, curly! He arrived from India last year. He was often spotted alone and without a recess companion. Why? He is practically caked in powder, repelling sweat and students.
I looked at him and he turned away anxiously. Just then, Janice stood up. She stamped her feet in anger! She was the severely overweight class monitress.
“Come on, people! Order, please! Order!” She took it upon herself to be the classroom judge. Of course, no one took her seriously.
“Hey, was that an earthquake? I felt the ground vibrate,” Leonard shouted out.
“Hey, sit down!” someone else said. “You are taking up too much space!”
The whole class cracked up. In anger, she stamped her feet more. “I am warning you!”
