5
Piece Of Cake
Back in school again. A shorter, smarter head of black hair. Legs and feet in grey trousers and shiny black shoes. Everything else in a white shirt, green tie and matching jumper. The classroom is clean as a whistle. It’s bright and airy. The ceiling high and the room big. The smell of white paint still on the walls.
Me and the other kids sit upright in our chairs. Twenty boys and girls in the same uniforms, around the same age. All the races under the sun.
Every desk and chair is grey and brand new.
The teacher stands to front of the class. She’s a slim, prim woman in her forties. She wears a frilly white blouse and maroon pencil skirt. She’s blonde with her hair pinned perfect to her head.
“The sun often shines in Peru,” she says in English.
We repeat the phrase af
