FLEA AND SPIKEY

Pieter Koolwijk

Flea and Spikey

illustrations by Linde Faas

Lemniscaat [Lemniscaat logo] Rotterdam

For Nora May,

and also from your mother

[Stichting Ned. Kinderjury 2013 vignette]

© 2012 Pieter Koolwijk

Cover and illustrations: Linde Faas 2012

All rights in the Netherlands reserved by Lemniscaat b.v., Vijverlaan 48, 3062 HL Rotterdam,

2012

ISBN 9781935954200

No part of this publication may be reproduced, published in any way, stored in a

retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by print or by any means electronic, digital,

mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission

of the publisher.

Printing and binding: [please complete]

This book is printed on environmentally-friendly, chlorine-free, age-resistant paper. It is

produced in the United States where unnecessary environmentally-polluting transport has

been avoided.

1 Fleas make you scratch

Floyd was running down the sidewalk. He took a long way round and was nearly late for school.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he turned the corner and darted into an alley.

He didn’t notice the figure in the alley. Unable to stop, he crashed right into someone. For a

moment everything went black and then the ground underfoot seemed to move. Staggering

backwards, he lost his balance and came tumbling to the ground.

‟Now look who we got here,” said Archie with a mean grin on his face to the two boys

standing next to him. ‟Did you take a long way around just for us? I’ve been looking for you.” He

threateningly punched his fist into his hand.

Floyd scrambled backwards. Leaning up against the wall for support on trembling legs.

‟Cat got your tongue, Flea?” asked Archie.

‟Fleas can’t talk,” said Erik, the skinny boy standing behind Archie. He turned his beady-eyed

rat-face at Dennis, the third boy. Dennis laughed so hard that his big belly shook.

‟Fleas make you itch,” said Archie. He rubbed his knuckles. ‟My knuckles itch right now.”

As Archie stepped forward, Floyd spun around and sprinted out of the alley. The jeering boys they

were in hot pursuit. Floyd ran as fast as he could around the corner, jumped over a low garden fence

and fled into somebody’s back yard. He hid there. Now he was definitely going to be late for

school. But anything was better than falling into the hands of Archie. He didn’t want to be chained

by his neck to a lamp post again.

The school bell rang in the distance. Floyd heard the boys shouting and then it went quiet. He

counted up to a hundred, then stepped over the low fence, and ran to school.

Gasping for air, Floyd knocked on the classroom door.

‟Come in,” rang the high-pitched voice of Miss Brownell.

He pushed the door open and cautiously looked around the corner.

The teacher leaned her head backwards a little and looked at Floyd over her round glasses. Her

glasses were always too big and were always balancing on the tip of her nose. ‟Hello, Floyd. Come

in.”

He came inside, closed the door and stood there. He could see Archie sitting in the back of the

classroom. Archie had to repeat the fourth grade last year. He had been in Floyd’s class since the

summer.

‟Late again, Floyd. Do you have a reason?” The teacher slid her long braid through her fingers.

Again Floyd glanced nervously at Archie. The boy looked straight at him shaking his head.

‟I overslept.”

‟You overslept?” The teacher frowned. ‟That has been happening to you quite a lot lately. If

this doesn’t change, I will have to have a word with your mother about this.”

Floyd nodded.

‟Go to your desk,” instructed Miss Brownell.

Floyd sat down in the front of the classroom. The teacher put him there because he’s so small.

Floyd didn’t mind — the desk next to him was empty and he was as far away as possible from

Archie and his buddies.

‟Now ... where was I?” asked Miss Brownell ... wondering out loud.

Eliza immediately yelled out: ‟Our new classmate!”

‟Yes, that’s right,” the distracted teacher remembered. ‟Thank you, Eliza. If everyone remains

seated, I will go get her.”

As soon as the door closed, a wad of paper whizzed past Floyd‟s hair. The next one bounced off

the back of his head and onto the floor.

‟I saw that, and I’m gonna tell the teacher,” cried Eliza.

‟Who else has fleas?” yelled Erik. He was sitting in the back of the classroom, next to Archie.

Floyd looked over his shoulder and saw that almost all the kids were scratching themselves. He felt

his head getting warm and he quickly turned around.

‟Look, it’s a red flea now!" shouted Archie.

The whole class burst out laughing.

The door opened and suddenly everyone shut up. Miss Brownell stepped into the classroom.

She looked sternly at the class and then motioned for someone to come in.

Totally amazed, Floyd looked at the girl standing in the doorway. He had never seen anyone

like her.

2 But everyone calls me Spikey

Floyd was small, but the new girl was even smaller. She was only as tall as a three-year old. But

Floyd knew she had to be older than that. Toddlers have shorts arms and legs, and often a round

belly. This girl didn’t. She looked just like the other girls in class, except in miniature form.

This was not the only curious thing about the new girl. Her red hair stood straight up, as if she had

stuck her fingers into an electrical outlet. She was wearing a bright green vest, an orange skirt and

green leggings. She was wearing rain boots the same color as her hair. It almost blinded you. Floyd

couldn’t understand why she was wearing such an strange clothes. Her size alone was enough

reason to be bullied–he knew all about that. Looking like that, she was asking for it, he thought.

The girl looked around the class with a broad grin on her freckled face. Her eyes twinkled. She

didn’t seem to be bothered by all those curious faces and gaping mouths. In fact, she rather seemed

to enjoy all the attention.

The teacher introduced her. ‟This is Phoebe.”

The girl looked up at the teacher. ‟But everyone calls me Spikey.”

‟Spikey?” The teacher asked in surprise.

The girl nodded eagerly. ‟My grandma thought that up. Spikey comes from spike.”

Archie snorted. ‟Why didn’t they call you Mini?”

Several kids laughed. Floyd did not. He was relieved that for a change it wasn’t him who was the

target of harassment, but, at the same time, he felt sorry for the girl.

Spikey stared at Archie and slowly raised her eyebrows. ‟Mini, huh? Why Mini?”

‟Because you’re so small, why else!” You could hear from the tone of his voice that Archie thought

it was a stupid question.

‟Small, huh?” She checked herself thoroughly. First her arms, then her legs and then she looked

at Archie again. ‟Small you say? You should see my dad. He’s this tall.” She held her hand at waist

length and gave a mischievous look.

‟Then he is, indeed very small,” said Miss Brownell with a smile.

‟He doesn’t think so himself,” said the girl, shrugging her shoulders. ‟Though people often think

he’s a gnome.”

Several kids started laughing.

‟A gno …” The teacher was unable to finish the word. She closed her eyes and softly shook her

head. After a deep sigh, she said: ‟Welcome to school, Phoebe.”

‟I prefer to be called Spikey.”

Miss Brownell frowned. ‟But your name is Phoebe. Why shouldn’t I call you that?”

‟Well, right now, when people ask me what my name is, I say: “My name is Phoebe, but

everyone calls me Spikey.” Otherwise I have to say: “My name is Phoebe, but everyone calls me

Spikey. Except the teacher. She just calls me Phoebe.” I think that’s a little weird.” She was quite

serious.

Miss Brownell didn’t say a word and continued staring at the girl through her glasses. After a

long silence, she said, ‟All right. Welcome to school, Spikey. You can sit in the front, next to

Floyd.” She pointed at Floyd and once again he could feel his head get hot.

‟Flea has a girlfriend!” yelled Archie. ‟Now he won’t have to stand on a ladder to kiss a girl.”

A wave of laughter rolled through the classroom. Floyd wanted to crawl under his desk and

pretend he wasn’t there.

Spikey casually walked to the empty desk next to Floyd. She put down her bag and gave Floyd

a wink. Then she suddenly turned around and bolted off toward Archie. It was as unexpected as a

balloon bursting. Grabbing the edge of Archie’s desk, she scrambled onto it. Spikey stood in front

of Archie with her hands at her side. Archie recoiled, balancing his chair on just two legs.

‟Maybe I should just kiss you!” She made kissing noises and leaned towards Archie.

He jerked his head back, making him lean back dangerously. He was lucky Erik grabbed him just in

time, otherwise he and his chair would have crashed to the floor.

‟No kissing in my classroom,” the teacher ordered.

Floyd shook his head. Typical of Miss Brownell. She never took any action against bullying,

she allowed Spikey to stand on someone’s desk, but she took action over a little kissing joke.

Spikey looked innocently at the teacher. ‟I didn’t know that.”

‟Don’t worry, Spikey. Just go to your desk and be seated.” The teacher turned around and

walked to the big desk in front of the classroom.

Spikey walked up to her new desk. She grabbed her chair, but stopped suddenly and looked

back at the teacher.‟What about hugging?”

The teacher closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‟What do you mean, Spikey?”

‟If it’s not allowed to kiss, is it allowed to hug?”

Floyd quickly covered his mouth with his hand. He didn’t want the teacher to see that he was

laughing.

‟We don’t ‘do’ kissing and hugging in this classroom.‟ Miss Brownell peered at Spikey through

her glasses. ‟Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to begin the lesson.”

Spikey nodded. She took hold of the chair and put her foot on the crossbeam. Floyd realized he

was staring at her and quickly glanced back at the teacher.

Miss Brownell opened a book and cleared her throat.

‟Miss!” Spikey’s high voice resounded again. ‟My buttocks are too small!”

Floyd looked aside and burst out laughing. Spikey was finally seated, but only her head and her

red spikes stuck out above the table. That’s all that could be seen of the small girl.

Miss Brownell took her glasses off her nose and positioned them on top of her head. She looked

at Spikey with bulging eyes. ‟Your buttocks are too small? What you do mean?”

‟If I had bigger buttocks I would reach above the desk. Now I can’t do anything.”

The teacher sighed. ‟You mean the desk and the chair are too big for you.”

‟No, my mother always told me never to blame others.”

Floyd chuckled. He wondered if the girl was playing games with the teacher.

‟I think she meant people. Not tables and chairs. You can blame them,” the teacher said.

‟But tables and chairs are put there by people,” Spikey explained. ‟When I complain about this

chair, I am complaining about the person who put this chair here for me. That’s not nice.”

The teacher blushed. ‟Why … Yes,” she stammered. ‟The chair.” She made a note in her

notebook. ‟I will make sure you get a chair that suits you.”

Then the teacher grabbed two thick books from her desk and put them on Spikey’s chair. That

was quite an improvement. Now the girl could put her arms on the desk.

Spikey did not attract much attention until recess. When the bell rang, Floyd looked toward the

boys in the back of the classroom. They were laughing about something. It seemed to involve

Spikey, since Archie was pointing in her direction.

That did not bode well.