Katy

by Jacqueline Wilson

  ‘Hey, guys,’ he said, as if he were in some stupid American High School movie. He was even trying to talk with an American accent. He nodded at Cecy. ‘Fancy a spin?’

  I struggled not to burst out laughing then, he sounded so ridiculous. How could Cecy possibly have a crush on him? He was absolutely pathetic. Surely she’d come to her senses and fob him off. She was staring up at him, her whole face shining.

  ‘Yeah, that would be great,’ she breathed. But then she glanced at me anxiously. ‘Is that OK, Katy?’

  No, no, it’s not OK. Don’t dance with this idiot! Stay with me!

  I took a deep breath.

  ‘Of course it’s OK,’ I muttered.

  So Cecy rushed off with Richie and I was left on my own. And it was awful. The music seemed to get louder, the lights brighter, the laughter more mocking. My eyes had gone blurry, so I couldn’t tell if people were staring at me pityingly or not. It didn’t matter. I felt they were. I’d been mad to come. I knew this would happen. If only I could be back at home. I looked down at my red Docs, wishing I could click them together like Dorothy and be safe at home in an instant.

  ‘Cool boots!’ It was Miss Lambert, smiling at me.

  I sniffed and did my best to smile back. ‘You’re the one with the cool boots,’ I said.

  ‘They’re a bit over the top, aren’t they? They’re my clubbing boots. I don’t know why I wore them here. I’m hardly going to be dancing with any of Year Seven or Eight,’ she said, sitting down beside me.

  ‘You could dance with Mr Myers,’ I said.

  ‘Hmm. We’re good mates but I don’t think that would work. Anyway, you lot would all laugh at us.’ She peered round. ‘Do you think everyone’s enjoying themselves?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘What about you?’

  I shrugged. ‘Dances aren’t exactly my thing.’

  ‘Dances are always a bit weird, especially at first. If it’s any comfort, all the best literary heroines don’t go a bundle on dances. Look at Jo March in Little Women. And Elizabeth Bennet snubbed by Darcy in Pride and Prejudice. And have you read Rosamond Lehmann’s Invitation to the Waltz? It’s an adult book and it’s pretty dated, but you might like it. The girl in that has a terrible time – only leery old men or losers want to dance with her.’

  ‘Yes, but Jo and Elizabeth and the Waltz girl can still dance,’ I said.

  ‘That’s true,’ said Miss Lambert. ‘Point taken. Sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said, because I liked her and she was just trying to be friendly. But it wasn’t OK. And the evening didn’t get any better. Cecy came back to sit with me, but Richie came too, and the three of us had to make stilted conversation together.

  Ryan came back three times, bringing me more fruit punches. It was sweet of him, but I had to keep hiding them because there was a limit to how much liquid my bladder could hold nowadays. He didn’t just dance with Eva. He danced with lots of other girls too, but he danced most with Eva. Then she got up to do a showy-offy dance routine with Sarah and Maddie, and Ryan came hurrying over to me again.

  ‘Can I get you another fruit punch, Katy?’ he asked eagerly.

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘There’s still some food left. Shall I fetch you a plateful?’

  ‘No, honestly, I’m fine.’

  We sat still and silent.

  ‘Are you OK?’ said Ryan.

  ‘Everyone keeps asking me that. Do I look a right grouch?’ Well, you’re acting like one.

  ‘No. No, you look great. Love your boots.’

  ‘Thanks. Like we said, great for giving people a good kicking. If I could.’ Will you stop it! It’s like you’re begging for pity.

  Ryan laughed uneasily. The music switched to that ‘Happy’ song and everyone started bouncing about. Eva waved at Ryan. He seemed not to notice. She gestured again.

  ‘Your girlfriend’s beckoning you,’ I said. Now you just sound petty and jealous.

  ‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ said Ryan.

  ‘She says she is.’

  ‘Yeah, well, she’s not.’

  ‘Don’t you like her any more?’

  ‘She’s OK. She’s very pretty. She makes all the other boys jealous of me,’ said Ryan. ‘But I’m not really into that boyfriend–girlfriend stuff.’

  You once asked me to be your girlfriend, back in Year Six, when everything was different. You probably don’t even remember.

  ‘Though I did want you for my girlfriend once,’ said Ryan, as if he were reading my thoughts. ‘Only you didn’t reckon me.’

  ‘I did. I mean … it was just, well, I’m so tall and you’re …’ Don’t say it!

  ‘And I’m so small,’ said Ryan.

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that,’ I said quickly, though we both knew I did.

  ‘Tell you what – I’m taller than you now,’ said Ryan, standing up. ‘See? I practically tower over you.’

  ‘So you do,’ I said.

  ‘I wish we could have a dance together, Katy. Remember the leavers’ disco? We had a fantastic dance, didn’t we?’

  ‘Yeah, we did.’

  ‘Look, how about you sit in your chair and we hold hands and you whirl me about, like you’re the man and I’m the girl. I could dance all round you, see?’ Ryan said.

  ‘We’d look weird,’ I said. ‘It’s OK, Ryan. You don’t have to be kind to me.’

  ‘I want to dance with you, you nutter. Come on, let’s give it a go.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Come on.’

  ‘People will laugh at us.’

  ‘Let them. What do we care? Go on, Katy, I dare you.’

  That was it. I always had to accept a dare, no matter what. I wouldn’t wheel myself into the middle of the floor. I stayed right on the edge, hoping that somehow – miraculously – no one would notice us. But Ryan was a flamboyant dancer. I tentatively spun him round and he immediately got into this new way of dancing and put his whole heart and soul into it, jumping about and waving his free arm in the air. I could see people nudging each other and staring. Some people actually stopped their own dancing to watch. I got so hot with embarrassment my hand was almost too sweaty to keep contact with Ryan – but somehow, by the very end of the track, I’d got into the rhythm of the music, and was kind of bobbing about from my waist up.

  When the music stopped there was a sudden cheer and clapping. Mr Myers, Miss Lambert, Cecy, lots of other Year Sevens, all of them clapping us. Not Eva. She was flouncing about, raising her eyebrows and obviously saying something catty to Sarah and Maddie. And did I care? No, I didn’t!

  ‘I was thinking, Katy,’ said Ryan, when we were all saying goodbye and wishing each other a happy Christmas. ‘Me and the lads still go to Baxter Park and skateboard. Could you get yourself over there some day in the holidays?’

  ‘Well, I had a hard job finding it even before I was stuck in a wheelchair. And it might be OK for a bit, but it’s too cold just to sit and watch you guys having all the fun,’ I said.

  ‘No, I wasn’t meaning watch us skateboard. I know you’re not that sort of girl. But I could ask some others in our class too. We could get up our own teams for Myball. And you could join in.’

  ‘Hmm.’ I thought about it. ‘Are you going to ask Eva too?’

  Ryan laughed. ‘Do you think I’m daft? Then you wouldn’t come, would you? Give us your mobile number and I’ll get it all fixed up and give you a date. Right?’

  ‘You bet,’ I said.

  25

  It was nearly Christmas. Dad bought old-fashioned do-it-yourself paper chains and we all sat around one afternoon, slotting each chain into place. Even Phil joined in, though he licked his chains so thoroughly they wouldn’t stick.

  I couldn’t help with the hanging of the chains and I couldn’t decorate the top of the Christmas tree this year, but the littlies and I made a brilliant job of festooning the lower branches while Clover and Elsie finished off the top. They both made felt angels with yellow sewing-thread ha
ir and sequined wings and then told me I must choose which angel was the nicest to go at the top of the Christmas tree.

  It was obvious whose angel was the most splendid. Clover’s had a sweet smiley face and dainty limbs and a golden trumpet fashioned from a Quality Street toffee wrapper. Elsie’s had a lopsided face with squinty eyes and was altogether very squat and plain.

  Clover couldn’t help looking triumphant. Elsie looked desperately hopeful all the same.

  ‘Come on, Katy, you’ve got to choose,’ they chorused.

  ‘I can’t possibly choose,’ I said. ‘They’re both beautiful. Why don’t we have them as sister angels and they can squash together on the topmost branch?’

  Clover didn’t mind too much and Elsie was ecstatic. Izzie mouthed thank you at me over their heads.

  Then on Christmas Eve we all made mince pies together, with Izzie supervising Phil very carefully just in case he took it into his head to start chopping again.

  ‘No, Phil is going to be chief mixer,’ I said, scooping mincemeat from the jar into a bowl. It didn’t need any mixing at all, but it kept him gloriously busy, holding on to the wooden spoon with both hands and muttering, ‘Mix, mix, mix,’ with great satisfaction.

  Izzie put all the ingredients and the scales and measuring jug on the big table instead of her high worktop, so I could reach to weigh everything out. She showed us how to rub the butter into the flour and we all had a go, even the littlies. Dorry was surprisingly good at it, his pudgy little fingers working the pastry very deftly.

  ‘I think you might well be a cake baker when you’re grown up, Dorry,’ I said.

  ‘Dorry couldn’t be a baker because he’d eat up all his cakes himself,’ said Jonnie, laughing.

  ‘When do we do the tossing bit?’ Phil asked eagerly.

  ‘No, darling. You don’t toss mince pies; that’s just for pancakes,’ said Izzie. ‘Katy’s speciality,’ she added drily.

  I might have fussed at this once, but now I just laughed along with the others. We were allowed one mince pie each for supper and then I read all the children the last lovely Christmas chapter of Nancy and Plum. Then they all went to bed and I changed into my pyjamas too, but I was allowed to stay up with Dad and Izzie, wrapping everyone’s presents and filling little Christmas stockings with sweets and satsumas and small sets of crayons and notebooks and tiny teddies and whistles.

  ‘I think those whistles are going to be a big mistake, Alistair,’ said Izzie. ‘They’ll be blowing them at five o’clock in the morning.’

  ‘Oh, let them have a bit of fun,’ said Dad. ‘Maybe you can organize them into a band, Katy?’

  It was strange. Our family seemed to have regrouped now. The littlies were still a small threesome, but now Clover and Elsie came together, while I seemed to have joined up with Dad and Izzie. Or maybe I was one on my own now.

  No, I was part of my own little gang now. People who understood, like Helen and Dexter. Helen had sent us all Christmas presents. They were laid out neatly under the tree. We’d all felt them carefully, trying to work out what they were, because Helen gave such good presents. Mine was a slim, flat rectangle. It was definitely a DVD. I wondered which one she’d chosen for me. I hoped it might be the second Hunger Games.

  Dexter had sent me a Christmas present too! I was utterly amazed. He had never replied to any of the emails though I’d been writing to him ever since I started at Springfield. I’d been so disappointed at first, but after a while I stopped expecting any response. Writing to him was just like writing a diary. I’d have been startled if my diary started writing back to me, after all.

  But then, in the middle of December, he did reply. Tersely.

  What’s your address?

  Dexter. x

  I got tremendously excited, thinking he might be coming to visit me. I emailed back at once with my address and full instructions how to get here. He didn’t come – but a few days before Christmas a jiffy bag arrived addressed to me. On the back someone had written Happy Christmas in beautiful black printing. I knew that writing from those weeks in hospital.

  ‘Oh my God, it’s from Dexter!’ I said, starting to tear at the bag.

  ‘Don’t use that expression, Katy!’ said Izzie. ‘And leave that bag alone! Wait till Christmas Day!’

  ‘But I must see what it is!’

  ‘No, wait!’ said Izzie, and she snatched the parcel from me.

  ‘Oh, don’t be so mean! We don’t know for sure it is a Christmas present. Let me just have one peep,’ I begged.

  ‘Absolutely not,’ said Izzie, and she wouldn’t relent.

  I wondered if she and Dad were giving me a Christmas present as well as my red Docs. I’d looked carefully under the tree. There were smallish presents for Clover and Elsie and an enormously huge parcel addressed to Dorry and Jonnie and Phil – but nothing for me.

  ‘Aren’t I getting anything this year?’ I asked.

  ‘You’ll just have to wait and see,’ said Izzie – and she and Dad exchanged a sly little glance.

  I let them sleep for an hour or so while I supervised the children on Christmas morning. They came running downstairs to my room with their stockings and all crowded into my bed. We ate our sweets and satsumas and swapped toys and then started up the Carr Family Whistle Band. None of us could play the simplest tune but we had a lot of fun trying. Our cat Sally mewed in protest and whisked out of the room, but Tyler joined in enthusiastically, throwing back his head and barking.

  ‘I know what I want for Christmas,’ said Izzie, putting her head round the door. ‘Ear plugs!’

  She made our usual festive breakfast of bacon sandwiches. We ate them in the living room and then everyone started opening their presents. I picked up Dexter’s jiffy bag but Elsie said quickly, ‘Oh Katy, open mine first! I tried making you a pot but it went all wrong, so I did this specially and it took ages.’

  So I opened her parcel and discovered a little handwritten book called The Story of My Special Big Sister Katy. It had a picture of me on the front looking like a daddy longlegs. I had one long spidery arm round a little Elsie who was smiling from ear to ear.

  Elsie’s story was heavily illustrated inside too. There were pictures of us in the secret garden, pictures of me climbing my tree, pictures of me spreadeagled on the ground with my eyes crossed and my mouth open, looking very dead. Then there were hospital sketches and eventually portraits of me in a very wonky wheelchair.

  The last page took me by surprise. I was standing upright.

  AND THEN KATY GOT BETTER AND COULD WALK AGAIN. HURRAY!

  Elsie had written that part in large triumphant capitals.

  I swallowed hard. ‘It’s a lovely story, Elsie,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure the last bit’s going to happen though. Still, wouldn’t it be great if it did?’

  Then I opened Clover’s present. She’d made me a beautiful big blue pot, perfectly symmetrical, with tiny underwater creatures swimming round it.

  ‘Do you see what they are, Katy?’ she asked eagerly. ‘They’re little seahorses like the one on the special necklace Helen gave you. Do you like it?’

  ‘It’s lovely, Clover. The best pot I’ve ever seen. I’ll keep it on my bedside table,’ I said.

  Dorry gave me a box of cherry chocolates. I peeped inside but he hadn’t sampled any of them, bless him.

  ‘I didn’t eat even half of one,’ he said proudly. ‘And they look ultra yummy.’

  ‘Try one now,’ I said, offering him the box.

  Jonnie gave me a red knitted square with several dropped stitches.

  ‘Did you know I can do knitting now, Katy? Izzie showed me how. I was going to make you a shawl but it took too long. I thought you could use it as a winter hankie. It is your favourite colour,’ she said earnestly.

  I hugged the twins and then turned to Phil. He gave me a soft squashy parcel tightly bound with probably an entire roll of Sellotape.

  ‘I wrapped it up all by myself,’ he told me unnecessarily. ‘Wait till you see
what’s inside. I bet you’ll never ever guess.’

  As a long floppy ear and several paws were poking through the wrapping paper it wasn’t too difficult. Phil had given me Bunnyhop. The others all laughed when they saw and told Phil he was silly.

  ‘You don’t give away your old toys as Christmas presents,’ Clover told him. ‘Especially not Bunnyhop, because he belonged to Katy in the first place.’

  ‘But he’s my best thing,’ said Phil, his face clouding.

  ‘And he’ll be my best thing now,’ I said, resolving to lend him back to Phil at bedtime.

  ‘Wait till you see what Mum and Dad have got you. That will be your best thing,’ said Elsie. ‘Oh Mum, can I go and fetch it for Katy now?’

  ‘In a minute, darling. Why don’t you open your present from us first?’ said Izzie.

  They’d given Elsie her own mobile phone.

  ‘Oh wow! I’ll be able to text everyone and join in all the big-girl secrets now!’ Elsie said joyfully.

  Clover had new shoes, purple suede with straps and small blocky heels.

  ‘They’re the most beautiful grown-up shoes ever,’ she said, cradling them as if they were two small purple babies.

  Dorry and Jonnie and Phil all got to share their present. They each took a turn at ripping off the wrapping paper. It was called Magical Zoo: a wonderful zoological garden with a grassy meadow for unicorns, a turquoise pool for mermaids, a dark cave for baby dragons, an ornate aviary for a splendid phoenix and a wild prairie for assorted dinosaurs.

  ‘Oh, you lucky things!’ I said, wishing I was little enough to share their present.

  Dorry and Jonnie hunched down, looking at it with awe. Phil was more hands-on, grabbing at the zoo inmates.

  ‘This is my horsey, my fish lady, my little monster, my birdy, my Tyrannosaurus rex!’ he said, clutching them to his chest.

  We all laughed that he was spot on identifying the dinosaur.

  ‘They’re magic creatures, Phil. The white horse is a unicorn – see his great long horn? Perhaps he’ll let you ride him. And this is a mermaid. She’d like to go for a swim with you. This is a baby dragon. He looks very docile, but be careful not to make him angry or he’ll breathe fire all over you. And this isn’t any old bird, he’s a phoenix, and I think he grants wishes,’ I said.