I was so excited that morning, I could hardly eat my breakfast. Mum shot me a look when I grabbed my schoolbag a good ten minutes early.
"I thought you had a maths test today?"
"Yep." I swung the bag over my shoulder.
"Have you prepared for it?"
I couldn't keep the smirk off my face. "You bet I have."
She shot me one of her what-are-you-up-to looks, thenhanded me my lunch. "Well." She stretched the word in the way only she can. "Have a good day."
"Thanks. You too."
OK, I was overdoing it a bit. But I felt so high. My triumph was near, I knew it.
As I was so early, I still had time for a quick soccer game with Danny and the mates. Puddles dotted the schoolyard after the previous night's rain. Trainers and socks were soon squelching. That was OK, until I remembered the crib in my socks. I prised it free and flattened it on my thigh. Too late. The ink had all fizzled out into blotches.
The three remaining cribs were more than enough to ensure victory over Monica though.
But then disaster struck.
(To be continued)