“I really don’t know what’s gotten into him, Mrs Peterson. He’s never hit anybody before. He wouldn’t hurt a fly, our Alfred.” Mrs Hutchins ruffled her son’s hair nervously; Alfred stared at his knees. “Well with all due respect, Mrs Hutchins, that’s neither here nor there. Alfred punched Eric Mansfield with quite some force. His nose bled all over the playground steps! He’s in Matron’s office now, where I believe it’s still bleeding!” She shot a cross teacherly gaze in Alfred’s direction, but, seeing how frightened he was, how sheepishly he held himself, she softened slightly and put on her most soothing tone (the voice she liked to call the ‘Parent-pleaser’). “Look. I understand that Eric Mansfield is what some might call a bully” (this she whispered, as though she was frightened Eric would somehow hear her - which, in truth, she was) “Now, there is no excuse for violence of any sort in this establishment. I am disappointed in Alfred, but, in truth, I feel that young Eric may have gotten what was coming to him, so to speak. With this in mind, Alfred, you will be spending the rest of the week in lunch time detention, but we will pursue this matter no further.”
Alfred didn’t mind spending lunch times in detention. It meant he wouldn’t have to see Eric, and it also meant he could help Miss O’Grady pour paint into pots for the Year One art class, and Miss O’Grady was very beautiful. In the car on the way home, his mum fretted on about where he’d learnt such awful behaviour from – “it’s those video games your father bought you for Christmas! I know it!” – but he wasn’t listening. He was staring down at the knuckles on his right hand – they were red, a little fat, and slightly scuffed like his black Clarks shoes with the orthopaedic insoles. They hurt, but not much. It didn’t bother him; he was just replaying the punch in his mind, slowly, over and over. Hey Eric! he had shouted. Eric had turned and he had punched him with as much force as he could muster, with all his might. Though his arms were puny, this force turned out to be enough to knock his astonished adversary to the painted tarmac. The bright red of the blood, which appeared so suddenly, was seared into mind. It had been redder, even, than Eric’s big fat face. There was nothing wrong, it seemed, with Alfred’s punching prowess.
This left him feeling rather strange, slightly conflicted. On the one hand, perhaps, if his nightmare were to recur, he might be able to beat that horrid old woman (who, now that he thought of it, had had more than a passing resemblance to Mrs Peterson). On the other hand, if he could punch in real life, but not in the dream, maybe it was the dream that had done it, that was all. (Well done Alfred! You’re catching on!) But there was still the issue of the swimming on his mind. Why hadn’t he been able to swim? Could he swim in real life? Walking up the gravel path to his front door, he eyed the garden pond. Nope – he didn’t fancy trying his luck. His experiments had gotten him into enough trouble for one day, and besides, the pond smelt of dead rats and frog faeces.
That night, Mr and Mrs Hutchins tucked their son in as usual. He spent around 15 minutes reading The Beano Annual 1997, then switched off his light and closed his eyes. He lay awake for what seemed like a very long time, but eventually he must have fallen asleep, because he began to dream.
Alfred dreamed that he was in the woods with his friend Ben Edwards. He was wearing red shoes that were much too big for him, and there were lime green piglets running about the place. They were trying to catch them with big butterfly nets. Then Miss O’Grady appeared and gave him a sticker that said Good Job but the sticker turned into a cheese’n’onion crisp and it broke in his hand. Then his mother appeared and started shaking him, gently, and he realised that he was awake, and that he was safe, and that it didn’t matter if he couldn’t punch or swim in his dreams because they weren’t real anyway.
But that day, after his lunch time detention, Miss O’Grady gave him a Good Job sticker. And then he wasn’t so sure….
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