Mr Muldoon is a fat baboon, I hate the scar on his face, he’s not part of the human race.
Mr Rowling is the best, he wears a nice vest and is very well dressed.
That’s my poem. I got third place in our poetry competition for Room Six special class, St Joseph’s Convent School – boys against girls. There are more boys than girls in the special class.
Sister Monica liked it and said it was sassy. But Sister David slapped my face – only to push my face into her chest and tell me everything was okay when I started crying. Nuns are weird.
It’s playtime at the Tuck shop. I’ve lined up with the girls. Why? Solidarity, I’m a boy but the girls are better, not as rough. I’m more at home with the girls. It’s probably because I’m afraid of the boys.
Oh my God, Eddie Cornell is coming this way.
Oh no, how do I look?
Can’t take my eyes away from his eyes.
He’s the most. Looks like Leif Garret.
Oh no. He’s here. He’s looking straight at me.
‘Pretty nice-looking girl …’