That nose

It’s spring. The days hold the promise of summer but the bitterness of the night refuses to thaw out. At eight o’clock, the wind’s already at it. The boxy house stretches and yawns in the morning warmth. Inside, the fire which cackled and spat at the cold is now a dying whisper. The grey mush which used to be Jacks Weet-Bix sits in front of him like a turd. In the bathroom, Jack washes the night from his face and brushes the morning from his breath. Specks of toothpaste take forms and dance across the mirror. He ruffles the pillow imprint from his hair, yells leaving! and trudges outside. Surveying the street from the veranda everything is as it always is: the lawns are trimmed, the flowers are blushing, and the street is empty. The sky is the belly of a great white, and is heavy with its weight. The trees are trembling and the cockies have long since fled. It’s the stickiness before the storm. Jack walks down the street toward the school, odd numbers to the left, even to the right.
At school he sits on the rim of the courtyard. Girls’ laughter floats on the wind and boys wrestle in their dirty uniforms. I watch as the bamboo next to the office block fights and jostle like buildings, for a piece of the sky. Inside the confusion of hollow limbs lies the real world. A world of problems and solutions, consequence and action. A world where questions have answers. The shrillness of the bell summons the kids to class. Jack walks into the room late and the smug parade is in full swing. It’s thick with the stuff. It sticks to him like the humidity. Smirks are slapped across their faces, and easy wit and self-satisfying laughter froth from their mouths. He tries not to look disgusted.
Mrs Hodinott walks into the room with her nose in the air. That nose! The most irritating nose in the universe. At the end of each sentence she sniffs and screws it up, like a mouse on cocaine.
Today we study poetry, she announces while her huge fake tits wrestle like dogs, under her tight blouse.
And the day is off to horrible start.