The weather forecast for the day was partly cloudy with a chance of rain. it was a special day at Clayton Primary school, particularly for the grade twos. We were having their annual outing to both the strawberry and crocodile farms.
Excited children entered the class in groups with the teacher furiously fanning her arms between the two boys in the middle row trying to get the classes’ attention. One kid said, “I just hope I don’t lose my jersey this year, Mom went bananas last time.”
The other one looked up with a grin snapping his fingers and saying jokingly, “Someone got a hiding.”
Siyabonga was the name of the boy who had lost his jacket and didn’t want his mom heckling him again this year.
Next to him was Brian, a small, young lad who wore his uniform like a soldier. You could see your reflection in his shoes, he was one of the cool kids at school and he was known by everyone. Most of the people I knew, I met through him.
“What do you think is going to happen today?” he asked. “Hope I get swallowed by a crocodile?”
“Me? Never,” I replied. I was afraid of crocodiles.
“We get to eat some strawberries, yumm,” said Brian excitedly.
At that point we were being counted by our class teacher, Mrs Khan, who was growing irritated by the endless fidgeting.
“Shut up!” she said angrily. “We will now make our way out in an orderly fashion.”
My classmates did not need to hear her say it twice, they sprinted out of class and to the car park as fast as possible. Brian and I had both agreed to get on the loudest bus there. There was a lot of fighting and pushing trying to find a place to fit in but it was already full.
Unluckily for me, I was one of those who did not make it. Here I was, sad and lonely, a pea in a pod. I had to take the boring bus, the one with no music and none of my friends were in it. I sulked as I boarded the bus.
But then it hit me, I was going to see a crocodile. And that put a smile back on my face.