White Ninja by Tiffiny Hall Read Free Book Online

have done anything after my Service, but I chose to teach Year Seven. Year Two — too distracted!’ he yells. ‘Year Three — still too distracted. Years Four,’ he pauses to inspect the distance between one kid’s fingers and the next person’s shoulder and adjusts them to be closer, ‘and Five — too slow and Year Six all that i-stuff kicks in,’ he huffs. ‘I say, give me Year Seven. Impressionable. Smart. Fast. Resilient. Don’t make me change my mind.
    â€˜Eyes front,’ Sergeant Major orders and we snap our heads to look at him. ‘This here,’ he slaps the man standing next to him on the back, ‘is Private Lincoln.’
    Private Lincoln stamps his right foot and salutes Sergeant Major.
    â€˜Private Lincoln is in the army,’ Sergeant Major barks, ‘and he’s come here today to teach you about Stranger Danger.’
    Sergeant Major is called away by the school PA system to take an urgent phone call. We are left staring at only the second soldier we have ever seen in our lives.
    â€˜Sit,’ Private Lincoln commands.
    We all plummet to the floor and sit cross-legged. Joshua is the last one down.
    â€˜Pay attention!’ Private Lincoln commands.
    Josh crosses his legs. We sit up even straighter.
    â€˜What do you do if a stranger in a van pulls up as you’re walking to school and offers you a bag of sweets?’ he asks. ‘Would you get in the vehicle?’
    We are too nervous to answer.
    â€˜Hands up!’ he yells.
    The whole class shoots both their hands in the air as if surrendering to a gunman.
    â€˜Yes.’ He points at Martin.
    â€˜Nope,’ Martin says in an uncertain voice.
    â€˜Tick!’ Private Lincoln yells. ‘What would you do if the stranger in the van offered you a Nintendo?’
    â€˜What sort of Nintendo?’ Gregory asks.
    â€˜DS.’
    â€˜Nah, already got one,’ Gregory says.
    â€˜Tick,’ Private Lincoln says, a smile in his voice. ‘What about a Wii?’
    â€˜That too!’ Gregory yells.
    â€˜The latest iPad?’
    â€˜Get in!’ we chorus.
    Private Lincoln’s face clouds over. ‘No!’ he shouts. ‘Tick, tick, cross. Don’t move,’ he barks and disappears.
    As soon as he leaves the room, the natural instinct to go wild takes over again and we run around yellingand giggling, swinging and throwing and laughing, until we hear footsteps and line up again.
    Private Lincoln enters the gym wearing a fat suit. His head with its camouflage cap pokes out of the top; it looks tiny perched on the suit’s dinghy-sized shoulders. The legs are like two inflatable swimming pools, making it hard for him to walk. He waddles to the front of our line. Across his chest is a massive bulletproof jacket and he’s wearing a fluorescent green mouthguard. I know from school sports, only serious people choose fluorescent mouthguards. If you’re not serious, you go with clear.
    â€˜One at a time, you’re going to attack me!’ Private Lincoln shouts. ‘I want you to kick me with all your strength. When I fall down, you go to the back of the line. But you must make me fall down.’
    Hero cracks his knuckles and I suddenly feel sorry for Private Lincoln.
    My hands begin to sweat. I’ve never attacked anyone before … except for a few minutes ago in the boys’ toilets. And I still can’t believe I did that! I don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’ve already lost control once today and I’m terrified what might happen if I strike out again.
    â€˜Psst,’ someone says behind me.
    I whip my head around to see the mysterious boy with the grass-green eyes slipping into the line next to me.
    â€˜What are you doing here?’ I say out of the corner of my mouth so Private Lincoln doesn’t notice.
    â€˜I go to school here now, in Year Ten. I need to talk to you.’
    â€˜Not