She looked at him through her fat slits of eyes. "Idiot," she howled, not under her breath quietly.
He looked at her. "Fat pig," he murmured under his breath so Mum wouldn't hear and fat girl wouldn't hit him from here to China.
Mum heard him. Fair dinkum, she could hear a mandarin being peeled in the bathroom - with the door closed!
"Simon! Come here. Now." Her voice had the angry tone. He was in trouble again. I agree with fat Jackie for once. He is an idiot! If he just thought the truth about Jackie, without ever saying it, he wouldn't be in trouble from Mum all the time. I guess being one year younger than my twelve years meant he hadn’t yet learnt that you just think some things and NEVER say them aloud.
Simon walked slowly and stupidly toward the verandah to get his punishment over and done with. Within minutes, he sidled back to us as if he'd had a good wallop across his skinny little behind.
"What'd Mum do this time Simple Simon? You're such an idiot. You shouldn't even push Jackie in that old pram. She's so fat that the tyres were never going to hold her."
"Shut up Melissa. You're the idiot. Take Jackie home before I bash her face in. I hate the fat pig."
Jackie jumped out of the lopsided pram and loped to the clothesline. She tried to monkey up the straight stick bit, but it buckled under her weight like it was a banana tree. I couldn't hold my laughter back. It was so funny. Mum heard me laughing. She came storming out to clip me under the ear for laughing at Jackie but when she saw the bendy clothesline, she screamed instead.
"Oh no! Which one of you little monsters broke my new clothesline?"
Simon and I pointed straight at Jackie. It was usually Simon that dobbed on her and got into trouble for tiddle tattling, but this time I was going to stick up for him. It was about time that Jackie got in trouble for her naughty ways.
For once Mum believed us. She looked us up and down, and then looked Jackie up and down. Jackie was three times the size of us and three years younger than my little brother Simon.
"Jackie An-oly!" Mum barked scarily through dog looking fangs that showed when she was savage. "Go home at once!"
Simon snickered under his breath, "Serves you right."
Lucky for Simon, the bent clothesline was cemented into the ground. If it wasn't he would have had to pooh it out because Mum would surely have rammed it down his throat.
Mum was thunder. She roared into the house and started vacuuming. Mum only did housework when she was furious. We liked it because it meant Mum was too busy to get into us for getting into Jackie.
I looked at Jackie, still sitting at the bottom of the clothesline. "You've done it this time Jack. Mum won't let you come here any more."
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," Simon followed me up with.
The vacuum cleaner had stopped just one second before Simon spoke his truth. He didn't have time to shut his mouth. It was too late. Mum overheard him call fat Jack bad rubbish and she screeched for Simon.
Simon ran for his life, way down the back garden, over the fence and disappeared into the An-oly's yard.
Jackie purred and smirked; pointing toward the spot where Simon disappeared. Unable to hide her glee, she fell on the ground in fits of laughter.
"I detest you," I thought to myself. "How could one kid be so naughty but get everyone else into so much trouble." I knew better than to speak my thoughts aloud. I leant a long time ago that if I controlled my face then nobody could read my thoughts. That way I could think bad things about our neighbour and not get into trouble for it. Simon though, he was a slow learner. He thought he could whisper and get away with it. He was so keen to make sure Jackie knew we loathed her that he just had to say it loud enough for her to hear. Like I said before, Mum could hear a mandarin being peeled so Simon needed to learn my strategy of control.
By the sound of the snarling over the fence, Simon was bailed up by the An-oly's three Dobermans. He’d have to move fast to jump the side fence and get to safety – away from Mr. An-oly and his dogs. The whole An-oly family was fat and nasty, the dogs too, and nobody liked the An-olys or their vicious snarly pets. Mum said she felt sorry for little Jackie and we had to be nice to the little beast. According to Mum, Jackie’s dad was a wife-bashing loser and her Mum was a good housekeeper so that Mr. An-oly could be a loser in clean comfort. Mum swore to God that if we did anything mean to poor little Jackie that she'd feed us to the Dobermans herself.
So, we never touched her. I never said unkind words, just thought them and poor old Simon hadn't quiet worked out how to be horrible nicely.
Still rolling around cacking her fat little heart out, Jackie hadn't noticed our dog's freshly dropped dodo right near her head.
"Onya Poley," I thought to myself, "You're a good dog for doing your business right there."
It was only a moment before dear little Jackie steam rolled Poley's pile of pooh into sticky pikelet batter. It stuck to her hair, her face, but best of all it got into the laughing hole above her fat rolled chin.
The site of Jackie An-oly's head covered in doggy dodo was too much for my thoughts only strategy. Giggling uncontrollably, I hoofed it as fast and as far as I could and left Mum with only one kid to growl at: Jackanoly rolly poley.