Page 111 of Christmas at the Movies
Last year for Halloween, he and Dad had dressed up as Ghostbusters for a special screening at the cinema. Dad had helped him make a costume, using an old vacuum cleaneras a proton pack. Even thoughGhostbusterswas quite scary (there were some parts Nick had to close his eyes for, and cover his ears), it was also very funny.
‘I’m going to be a vampire cheerleader,’ said Abby.
‘I’m being a zombie,’ said Ollie. He stuck his arms out in front of him and moaned like a zombie.
Everyone at the table giggled.
‘Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Ollie?’ asked their teacher, Miss Pearce.
‘No, Miss,’ said Ollie. He bent his head and resumed colouring.
The break-time bell rang. Raindrops pattered against the window of the classroom and puddles had formed on the playing field. Rivulets of water streamed down the slide in the playground.
‘We’re not going out today, children,’ said Miss Pearce.
‘Aww!’ chorused Nick’s classmates in disappointment.
Yes!thought Nick.
‘I wanted to go outside and play football’ grumbled Ollie.
‘Me too,’ said Grace.
Nick liked wet play because everyone had to talk in indoor voices, so it wasn’t as noisy as being out in the playground. Best of all, this year he was a wet-play monitor.
‘See you after break.’ Nick waved goodbye to his friends and hurried down the corridor to the infants’ wing.
Only the most responsible and well-behaved Year Sixes were chosen to be wet-play monitors. Whenever the weather was too bad to go outside, they helped supervise the younger kids. Nick was assigned to Miss Varma’s reception class. The bright and cheerful classroom hadn’t changed much since he was in Reception. Colourful finger paintings hung from a string that stretched across the classroom. An alphabet decorated with animals and a behaviour ladder withgold stars hung on the wall. Plastic trays held reading books and there was a strong, but not unpleasant, smell of glue.
‘Ah, here’s Nick,’ said Miss Varma, smiling at him as he entered the room. ‘You know the rules for wet play – no running and use your indoor voices.’
It had been a rainy autumn so he’d helped out a few times already. The kids were happy to see him again.
‘Nick! Nick!’ called some children, waving him over to the home corner. ‘Come to our café.’
The home corner had a pretend kitchen, with an oven and a sink, and baskets of wooden food. Nick sat down at the little table, feeling like a giant on the tiny chair.
‘Hold my baby,’ said a little girl, thrusting a doll in his arms.
‘What’s for dinner?’ Nick asked.
A boy wearing an apron and a chef’s hat was pretending to fry something in a pan. A girl with her hair in bunches set down a plate with a plastic banana on it in front of Nick.
‘Oh, this looks good.’ Nick pretended to nibble the banana. Then he offered some to the baby doll.
The little girl giggled.
Nearby, there was a sand table. Two boys were enthusiastically digging a tunnel for their toy truck, sending sand flying everywhere.
Nick jumped up to intervene before the classroom was engulfed by a sandstorm. ‘Try to keep the sand inside the table.’ He swept up the sand that had fallen on the floor and went to put it in the bin by Miss Varma’s desk.
As he did, Nick noticed a little boy playing by himself with a wooden train set. He had brown hair and wore headphones over his ears. He’d noticed the kid before – always playing with the trains. Always by himself …
‘Elliot is autistic,’ Miss Varma told him quietly. ‘He’s very bright but is finding school a bit overwhelming.’
‘Is he listening to music?’
‘No, the headphones block out background noise,’ explained Miss Varma. ‘It helps him stay calm.’
