Katy

by Jacqueline Wilson

  The swimming lesson seemed to be going on forever. I was starting to get really anxious now. I couldn’t work out in my head just how many of Eva’s clothes I’d dunked in the pool. I hoped it was maybe just her underthings. Then she could put on her blouse and skirt and no one would really know. But try as I could to persuade myself, I knew deep down that I’d seized hold of everything.

  Perhaps they might somehow dry out in the cubicle. It was boiling hot here after all. I thought of Eva’s clothes and mentally ironed them until they were bone dry, without a crease. I was willing it so hard that I jumped when Mr Robinson blew his whistle at last to tell everyone to get out the pool.

  There was a bit of pandemonium when they did this. Three of the boys were jostling each other at the steps and one fell backwards into the water, making an almighty splash.

  He didn’t surface immediately and several of the girls started squealing that he was drowning. There was a great racket as people grabbed hold of him – and then Mr Robinson made an even louder racket when it transpired that the boy had been deliberately holding his breath under the water to tease his friends.

  ‘I don’t know what’s got into you today, Year Six,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘Well, don’t all stand there shivering and dripping wet. Go and get changed, and be quick about it. Katy, you help me store all the floats in the kit cupboard.’

  I went to help, praying that somehow everything would be all right after all. But then I heard screaming.

  ‘Oh dear Lord, what is it now?’ said Mr Robinson. He peered round and saw Eva standing outside her cubicle, holding her still sopping clothes, crying her eyes out.

  ‘What’s happened? What’s the matter, Eva?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s my clothes! Look! Just look at them! They’re all ruined! Someone’s thrown them in the pool, even my new skirt, and Mum’s going to be so angry because it’s designer and dry-clean only,’ Eva wailed.

  I waited for everyone to start laughing – but everyone looked shocked. It wasn’t funny. It was awful. Eva was distraught. And it was all my fault.

  Mr Robinson looked horrified. He whirled round.

  ‘Ryan? Was this you? Have you been up to your stupid pranks again?’ he thundered.

  Ryan put his head round his curtain.

  ‘Me, Mr Robinson?’ he said, his eyes open wide, acting innocent.

  ‘Yes, you! I’ve had just about enough of you. How dare you! Get changed and then go straight to Mrs Henry and tell her exactly what you’ve done,’ said Mr Robinson.

  ‘But I haven’t done anything!’ said Ryan.

  ‘Be quiet and do as you’re told!’ Mr Robinson said furiously.

  My heart was beating so fast I thought it might burst straight out of my chest and lie thumping bloodily at the poolside. I hadn’t wanted Ryan to get blamed!

  I told myself that I didn’t like Ryan any more because he’d been one of the first to laugh at me in my ridiculous costume – but that didn’t matter now. Oh, my trick had gone so horribly wrong. There was Ryan in serious trouble and Eva was still in hysterics.

  ‘Katy, go to the secretary’s room and see if she has any spare clothing for Eva,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘Go on, don’t just stand there!’

  I ran off. I wanted to run right out of the school, out of the town, run away forever because I felt so ashamed. As I hurried down the corridors I felt that all the passing kids were staring at me and pointing. Even the photos and pictures on the wall were peering at me. There goes Katy Carr, they were thinking. The mean girl who plays spiteful tricks and then gets other people into trouble.

  I knocked on Mrs Henry’s door and then blurted out that Eva Jenkins’ clothes had got soaked during our swimming lesson.

  Mrs Henry sighed and started piecing together an outfit from Lost Property. The knickers were easy enough. Mrs Henry kept several spare pairs in case any of the little ones wet themselves. She had a school blouse too, more or less the right size, but no skirt at all, big or small. She handed me a crumpled pair of boy’s trousers.

  ‘She’ll have to make do with these,’ she said.

  ‘But she’ll look silly,’ I said despairingly. I’d wanted her to look silly, but now I just felt terrible.

  ‘I can’t help it if she looks silly,’ said Mrs Henry. ‘She shouldn’t have dropped her clothes in the pool.’

  ‘But she didn’t,’ I mumbled.

  I took the odd assortment of clothes and trailed back to the pool. Eva was wrapped up in a towel, still in tears. They increased in volume when she saw the trousers.

  ‘I can’t possibly wear them! They’re boy’s trousers and they won’t fit properly. And they’re all creased and crumpled anyway!’ she wailed.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, Eva, you haven’t got any alternative,’ said Mr Robinson. He glared over at Ryan, who was standing in disgrace.

  ‘Do you feel happy now, Ryan? Does it make you feel great to see poor Eva so upset?’ he asked.

  ‘No, Mr Robinson! But I didn’t throw her clothes in the pool, I swear I didn’t,’ said Ryan.

  ‘You’re only making things worse for yourself by lying, Ryan, do you realize that?’ said Mr Robinson. ‘I’ve always known you were an idiotic prankster, but I didn’t think you were a downright liar too.’

  Ryan flinched as if he’d been hit. It was too much. I couldn’t bear it any more.

  ‘Ryan isn’t a liar, Mr Robinson,’ I said. ‘He didn’t dunk Eva’s clothes. I did. And I wish I hadn’t now. I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘Katy Carr! Whatever’s got into you today? Ryan, I apologize. Katy, you go straight to Mrs Henry and tell her what you’ve done,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘I give up. I don’t understand you children. I think I’d have more success teaching a class of chimpanzees.’

  Some children giggled uneasily. I had to fight not to cry. I felt the tears pricking in my eyes and my chin starting to wobble. Eva was glaring at me, but it was Cecy’s expression of shock and sympathy that made the tears spill over. I ran out, away from the pool again, back down all the corridors, and forced myself to knock on Mrs Henry’s door.

  ‘Come in!’

  Oh dear, she sounded irritated already.

  I took a deep breath and shuffled into her room. She was at her desk, peering at me over her glasses in a frowny sort of way. She was wearing one of her bright suits, yellow today. They always looked rather too tight, and showed too much of Mrs Henry’s tummy and bottom.

  ‘Hello Katy. What is it? I’m very busy, as you can see,’ she said, shuffling paperwork.

  ‘Mr Robinson sent me, Mrs Henry,’ I mumbled.

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About … me.’

  Mrs Henry sighed and sat back, looking at me through her glasses now.

  ‘What have you done? I gather from your general demeanour Mr Robinson hasn’t sent you because you’ve completed an outstanding piece of work.’

  ‘No, I – I’ve done something dreadful,’ I said.

  ‘I see. Well. Spit it out then,’ said Mrs Henry calmly. ‘I don’t expect it’s as dreadful as all that.’

  ‘It is,’ I said, and I felt another tear slide down my cheek. ‘I dunked Eva Jenkins’ clothes in the pool.’

  ‘Oh goodness, yes, that’s very dreadful,’ said Mrs Henry, her face stern – though her lips twitched. ‘What is it with you children and the swimming pool? I had Ryan in here only last week for dunking someone else’s clothes.’

  ‘That was Martin – and it was only his pants – and I won’t tell tales, but Martin deserved it, believe you me,’ I said.

  ‘Did you feel Eva deserved it then?’ Mrs Henry asked.

  ‘Well, I was mad at her, because she said I looked like a giraffe in a thong.’

  ‘She said what?’

  ‘But I suppose I did look like that, because I was wearing my little sister’s swimming costume.’

  ‘You were wearing Elsie’s costume?’

  ‘No, Clover’s. But even that was far too small. I suppose I did look pretty ridiculou
s. Everybody laughed at me. Especially Eva. And Mr Robinson said I had to change back into my clothes and miss swimming.’

  ‘I get the picture now. Oh dear, Katy. I understand how you were feeling – but it was still a mean, silly trick to play on Eva, wasn’t it? Especially mean when it’s clear Eva cares very much about the way she looks,’ said Mrs Henry.

  ‘Eva always looks stunning. I bet she even looks stunning in the borrowed clothes from Lost Property,’ I said.

  ‘Yes, probably,’ said Mrs Henry.

  We looked at each other, and for one moment we weren’t just fierce head teacher and schoolgirl in trouble. We were a plain fat woman and a plain gawky girl sympathizing with each other.

  But then Mrs Henry frowned again.

  ‘It still was a very mean trick, Katy,’ she said. ‘And I expect Mrs Jenkins will be very upset when she finds out.’

  ‘Yes. But – but that wasn’t quite the meanest thing I did,’ I said, needing to tell her everything now. ‘Mr Robinson thought Ryan had dunked Eva’s clothes. And so he got mad at him and – and for a little while I didn’t own up. I let Ryan get a big telling-off. Mr Robinson said Ryan had to go and see you straight away, and after a bit I couldn’t bear it and confessed.’

  ‘Oh dear. Is being sent to see me such a terrible punishment then?’ Mrs Henry asked, resting her chin on her linked fingers.

  ‘Well, I don’t want to sound rude, but yes, we all dread it because you can make us feel really bad,’ I said truthfully.

  ‘So I should hope. And you have been really bad this morning, Katy. But I know you’re not usually a mean girl, so as long as you promise to behave in an utterly exemplary fashion for the rest of the day we’ll let it go at that. Now run along,’ she said, picking up her paperwork again.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Henry,’ I said, and scuttled from the room.

  I stood outside, shaking my head. That hadn’t been so bad. In fact, she’d really been quite nice about it, all things considered. But I was careful to look suitably subdued, if not downright mournful, when I went back to class. Mr Robinson shook his head at me but didn’t say any more. Cecy looked at me super sympathetically. Eva Jenkins flashed me a look of pure hatred. Not that I cared.

  Ryan was looking at me too. Perhaps he was remembering what a total idiot I looked like in Clover’s costume. I felt my cheeks going hot. I sat down and tried to concentrate on my Victorian project. Cecy was writing about Victorian clothes. So was Eva Jenkins and half a dozen other girls. I was doing Victorian funerals because they were so interesting and elaborate.

  I didn’t get to go to Mum’s funeral. I suppose Dad thought I was still too little. I’ve made him tell me all about it. He said there was just a simple ceremony and then Mum was cremated, and he scattered the ashes on top of Box Hill, her favourite place.

  I think this was ridiculous. If I want to have a special private chat to Mum I can’t climb all the way up Box Hill, always supposing her ashes haven’t completely blown away in the wind. Why on earth couldn’t Dad have buried her in the graveyard where I could have visited her every day? And why a simple ceremony when she was the person we loved most in the world? I’d have given her an ultra-elaborate ceremony.

  I took great comfort in writing about the Victorians, with their funeral processions and horse-drawn carriages and their black mourning clothes and their beautiful stone angels.

  Mr Robinson came and had a stalk round in the middle of his marking session and actually nodded approvingly at my passage about Highgate Cemetery, where heaps of important Victorians were buried.

  Eva Jenkins glared even more. She came rushing up to me at break. She couldn’t stop looking pretty, but the boy’s trousers were a little too short so her bare ankles looked silly, and the part by her bottom was much too big.

  ‘I hate you, Katy Carr!’ she hissed. ‘You are so, so, so going to regret this.’

  ‘See if I care, baggy bottom,’ I said, and barged past her.

  ‘Careful, Katy,’ said Cecy. ‘We don’t want Eva and all her crowd ganging up on us.’

  ‘I’ll soon settle them,’ I said airily.

  But I went hot all over again when Ryan came up.

  ‘Hey, Katy, thanks for getting me out of trouble with old Robinson,’ he said. ‘You didn’t need to have owned up. No one would ever have guessed it was you.’

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t have been fair. And I didn’t own up right away,’ I said.

  ‘Even so. Thanks,’ said Ryan, and he smiled at me.

  It wasn’t a bit like the awful grin he’d given me when he saw me in the minute swimming costume. This was a proper friendly smile.

  ‘You’ve gone all pink,’ said Cecy, when Ryan walked on.

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘You have so. You really like Ryan, don’t you?’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ I insisted – though I did like him. A lot.

  5

  Our last lesson of the day was maths. Mr Robinson gave us back our homework. I’d done splendidly and got ten out of ten. Good for Cecy! Well, good for Cecy’s dad. Mr Robinson hadn’t put any comment, just given me ten ticks. Cecy’s was the same.

  ‘He could have put Well done at the very least,’ I whispered.

  When the bell went we grabbed our bags and started making our way out of the classroom.

  ‘Just a moment, Katy Carr and Cecy Hall. I’d like a word with you,’ said Mr Robinson.

  We peered at each other. Little warning bells clanged in my head.

  Mr Robinson sat leisurely at his desk, leaning back with his chin in the air, almost as if he were sunbathing. He waited until everyone had cleared the room and then he sat up properly.

  ‘Well?’ he said. He didn’t sound friendly.

  ‘Well, what, Mr Robinson?’ I said.

  ‘You know very well what I mean, Katy. It’s a matter of maths homework, yours and Cecy’s,’ said Mr Robinson.

  Oh dear.

  ‘But – but I got all the maths right for once, Mr Robinson,’ said Cecy.

  ‘Yes. And as if that wasn’t miracle enough, your very best friend got all her maths right too,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘How do you explain that, Cecy?’

  Cecy swallowed. ‘Coincidence?’ she suggested unwisely.

  Mr Robinson suddenly beat the desk. We both jumped as if he’d beaten us.

  ‘Do you take me for a fool?’ he thundered.

  Cecy wasn’t silly enough to answer him. We both stood there, hearts thumping.

  ‘You copied Katy’s work, didn’t you?’ he said.

  This time I didn’t hesitate.

  ‘No! No, Mr Robinson. I copied Cecy’s homework. It wasn’t her fault at all,’ I said.

  ‘So who did you copy, Cecy? Because you and I know very well that you’ve never got more than six out of ten right ever since you’ve been in Year Six, and I rather think it’s highly unlikely your brain has suddenly gone click, click, click like a Rubik’s cube and developed the ability to master all mathematical problems instantaneously,’ said Mr Robinson.

  ‘I didn’t exactly copy, Mr Robinson. I – I got my dad to help me,’ Cecy quavered.

  ‘Well, that’s excellent. I don’t mind dads helping, giving a little advice, going over a particular problem. But in this case I suggest your dad did most of the work himself. Or indeed ended up doing all of the work, seeing as his method isn’t at all the method I taught you in class.’

  Cecy nodded sadly.

  ‘How do you think you can learn to do maths for yourself if you simply get your well-meaning parent to do the work for you?’

  ‘He did try to help me, Mr Robinson. But, as you know, I’m a bit thick where maths is concerned, and so he got fed up and just did it all for me,’ Cecy said.

  ‘And I’m afraid I didn’t quite have time to do my maths homework last night, so I copied all Cecy’s answers,’ I said.

  ‘And both of you thought I would mark your identical pieces of work without getting at all suspicious?’ said Mr Robinson.
r />   ‘I suppose it was a bit optimistic of us,’ I said.

  ‘Understatement of the century,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘Now, I want you to do the further ten questions you will find on page 32 tonight. Working separately and unaided. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Robinson,’ we said miserably.

  ‘Now come along. We’re all late home. Chop-chop.’

  Mr Robinson grabbed his briefcase and we went out of the classroom together. Cecy’s mum and Izzie, with Clover, Elsie and the littlies, were standing at the gate looking worried.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Izzie, when she saw Mr Robinson. ‘Are they in trouble?’

  ‘Just a little matter of too much conferring over homework,’ said Mr Robinson. ‘Oh, Mrs Carr, while we’re on the subject of Katy’s pranks, I wonder if you could make sure she always has the right costume for her Monday swimming lesson.’

  He walked on, not saying anything else. He didn’t need to. Izzie got most of it out of me on the car ride home.

  ‘You wore Clover’s costume? But she’s half your size! Why didn’t you take your own?’ Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

  And then the moment we were indoors there was a phone call from Mrs Jenkins. Eva had blabbed the whole story – though I bet she hadn’t told her mum she’d said I looked like a giraffe in a thong. It was all poor little Eva and wicked bad Katy and Eva’s designer skirt absolutely ruined because it was dry-clean only and the precious darling totally humiliated because she had to wear ill-fitting boy’s clothes all day long.

  Izzie was absolutely furious with me, and even more so when she saw and smelled my own swimming costume. Dad was out late. For once I hoped he’d be stuck on a difficult house call and wouldn’t get home till after we were in bed.

  I was in bed reading the first volume of The Hunger Games when I heard his key in the door. Then I heard Izzie muttering away, and I was pretty sure my name was mentioned. Oh no. I’d have sooner endured all Katniss’s trials than face my own father.