How does she do it? I mean, who gets up in the morning one day and thinks, I know, I want to be a maths teacher? No one, that’s who. I do not believe anyone in the whole entire world actually decides of their own free will to be a maths teacher. It’s the same as deciding to be a dentist. No one’s dream job is to be a dentist, is it? No one actually says when they’re growing up, ‘Ooh, I’d love to be a dentist OR a maths teacher,’ do they? I reckon they’re the jobs you end up with when you can’t be whatever you really wanted to be.
Anyway, so we’re doing this test that Ms Drippy-Dry’s handed out. Though obvs I’m not really doing it. I’m whispering to the others about nothing much at all, just trying to put them off and make them laugh, because I’m going to copy Grace’s answers when she’s finished anyway, aren’t I? Like, durr? Why would I bother to vex my brain doing the test when I’ve got Grace, who will defo get all the answers right, sitting right next to me. Erm, hello?! (BTW the only top set Grace isn’t in is maths, which is just as well for me. Result! Though I don’t know how that happened. Must ask her.)
So suddenly, from over the other side of class, Dark Aly says in that weird, really low, growly voice she always does, ‘Are you having a laugh with this test, Miss?’
I look up – in fact, the whole class does – and Dark Aly’s holding out the test paper, which admittedly is only one sheet, right at the edge so it flops down like a limp rag. And she’s kind of flapping it a little bit like it stinks too.
‘What, exactly do you mean, Alexandra?’ Ms Drippy-Dry barks. Oh, she is not happy.
‘I mean, Miss, did you give this out to us as a joke, you know, as in to be amusing?’ Aly answers back, and then went on in a very spelling-it-out-for-morons way, ‘That is what I mean.’
Oh my god. Even I thought that was a bit much and not even funny. It was just so horrible. At least I always try to be funny. Okay, that’s probably not how the teachers see it, but the rest of the class do and that’s what’s important to me. But this, the way Aly was speaking to her, was, like, soooo snooty and mean.
‘I don’t wish to be spoken to like that, Alexandra Fletcher. Be quiet and just do the test!’ Miss snipped back at her.
Dark Aly, who obviously wasn’t about to back down, replied, ‘I can’t,’ and then Miss barked, ‘What do you mean “can’t”?’
Dark Aly drawled, ‘Can’t, as in I. Can. Not.’ Oh my god, it was so extra.
And then, weirdly, instead of blowing her top like she definitely would if I’d said that to her, Miss paused for a minute, stared at her like she was thinking of something and then just said, ‘Right, well, suit yourself.’ Can you believe it?!
It was like Miss was making an actual decision not to make her do the test, not to argue with her, for some secret reason that only she knew about.
Dark Aly shrugged her shoulders, slumped right down in her chair and screwed up the test sheet! She actually screwed the paper right up into a ball and flicked it across her table. No one could believe what they were seeing.
I reckon she must have wanted to get into an argument, that she’d wanted to really wind Miss up. I was sure she was disappointed when Miss gave in. I knew she was trying to get attention (takes one to know one!), but she was so grumpy and, I don’t know, sort of horrible, and I think she also minded that no one seemed to be respecting the sass she’d given Miss. But we weren’t because it was almost like she was too mean, if that makes sense?
I know I’m deliberately naughty on purpose and I know I do it to annoy the teachers, but the way I do it doesn’t seem to make people hate me. I don’t know how to explain the difference, except to say that the way Dark Aly was making trouble seemed more about her being angry than about having fun and making her classmates laugh. NOBODY was laughing, that is for sure. It was NOT funny. Actually it was a bit scary. Not that I am scared of her, obvs. AS IF. That’d be way extra. I’m not scared of anyone. Okay, maybe GB … a bit. But that’s no biggie because everyone is scared of her!
On the way home (none of us really live the same way – it’s actually quicker if we go our own separate ways, but pretty much every day we walk along the big main road so that we can hang out together for longer, which I so love) we were all talking about Dark Aly.
And Grace of course said, ‘I think she’s troubled. We don’t know why she had to leave her old school. Maybe a horrible thing happened to her there?’
Everyone nodded like they were thinking that might be what was wrong with her.
‘I know what happened to her there: she happened. She’s the horrible thing that happened to her,’ I said, and everyone laughed.
Anyway, even if Dark Aly’s arrived, it looks like maybe I don’t need to worry about her. She’s definitely not making anyone laugh, so that’s still going to be my job. Yay!
Before I got up this morning, like really early, I heard Mum shouting her head off. It sounded like she was in the kitchen, downstairs, but I could hear her from my room upstairs. She was obviously having a major meltdown.
I got dressed really quickly (suppose that is the ONE good thing about being made to wear uniform, totes mankenstein as it completely is, at least you don’t have to waste time deciding what to wear every day!), and went down. I wasn’t that worried, you know, spesh because Mum freaks out about practically everything, so I reckoned it was probably that we’d run out of milk or something soooo not-major like that.
But it wasn’t. It actually was truly major. You are not going to believe this. It is really hard to believe. Really hard. Mum was melting down because the post had come and she’d got a letter from our other granny, GB, saying that, wait for it, she thought I ought to go and live with her and Dad so that I could go back to my old school, Greyfriars, and – Mum read this bit out – ‘benefit from a more structured life’!
Mum was spluttering with rage, then Gran took the letter off her and read it and then the moment she finished it she started spluttering with rage too. If Basil could read I’m pretty sure he’d have joined in with the whole spluttering-with-rage thing too. Do you know what was weird? Before I could get worried or angry about it, the very first feeling I had, and this is what was weird but really nice too, was how lovely and warm and cosy it felt having Mum and Gran go so mad about the idea of me living somewhere else, to see that they minded that much about me not living with them any more. I think I would have guessed that Gran wouldn’t want it, but Mum is always so naggy, and so ‘Don’t do this, don’t do that’ or ‘Don’t eat those biscuits; you’ll only get fatter’. (I absolutely hate it when she says that. She never ever says ‘You’ll get fat’. She always say ‘fatter’, as if I’m so obviously already fat, so she’s really saying: ‘Take that you are fat as obvious, but you mustn’t get any fatter.’ Do you know what I mean?)
I mean, I do know Mum loves me but I suppose until this letter came I didn’t think she’d mind that much if I went to live with Dad, because then she wouldn’t have to be always watching me, nagging me and controlling every single thing I do, which according to her blog is such a ‘huge effort day in, day out’. (I am quoting from the blog, which I occasionally read, but don’t tell Mum!) Yeah, and if I didn’t live here any more she’d be free to go out with Dumbledore Chops all day long too.
Anyway, even though the whole letter was about me and what was best for me, according to GB, I was just standing there watching Gran and Mum stomp about waving their arms while laying out the breakfast stuff and going on and on: ‘How dare she this and the arrogance that and the nerve this. She won’t know what’s hit her when she gets my reply,’ and so on. You can imagine.
Basics, it was super clear that Gran and Mum were going to say: a) that GB could not have me, b) that GB had a real cheek even suggesting it, and c) a lot of quite rude things that they thought GB had coming (apparently!) and that it was ‘high time’ (hah, hah! Mum actually said that!) GB heard some home truths (whatever they are).
On the way to school I thought about it and actually, even though
I’ve known GB all my life (we used to see more of her when we lived in the country than we did Gran because Gran lived in London and GB lived right near us), I still can’t believe she’d think that I’d want to live with her or go back to Greyfriars Ladies’ College. AS IF.
Actually that’s not true. I can easily believe that bit because GB can’t imagine anyone not loving going to that place, but that’s because she is posh and loves ponies more than people and lives in the country and all that. I wasn’t like that ‘country set’, even when I was at Greyfriars and lived in the country. It is SO extra and typical of GB to be asking to have me and not Luke. You’d think she’d want him more, what with him being a super-nerd and embarrassingly brainy, but oh no, she wants me, ‘the tricky one’. I’ll bet it’s so that she can ‘take me in hand’, which is what she is always saying. Really, though, if she was any sort of proper gran, like Gran is, then you’d think she’d want both of us. Especially because, according to her, Mum and Gran are obviously so totes useless at taking care of us. Plus, I do love Dad and all that, but I don’t want to live with him again. I mean, how lame would that be? And I bet I’d go straight back to watching out for his drinking even though I so wouldn’t want to. I just wouldn’t be able to help myself.
One of the good things about Mum and Dad breaking up is that I don’t have to worry about checking if he’s had too much to drink any more. I spent so long before Mum and Dad broke up trying to pretend I didn’t know he was drunk or that he’d hidden booze in a bush in the garden or in the dustbin or the bookshelves in the living room, which he did all the time. And I never even wanted to do that. It just sort of happened once I realised how hopeless he was.
It wasn’t like I’d planned to be his guard. I didn’t like it ever, not one bit. And I don’t want to go back to all that. I’m not his mum. He’s got one and he lives with her now, so she can follow him about all day long checking on him and his drinking. I’m not going to do that ever again. I’m not my dad’s personal police officer. He is a grown man, even though you wouldn’t think so most of the time! Plus, anyway, GB still refuses to believe Dad’s even got a drink problem. Hilarious!
But still, I can’t believe she was silly enough to think Mum would get that letter and just go, ‘Oh yeah, fine, you have her. I’m useless at being her mum anyway, so here you go!’ I think GB thinks because she’s posh and has a big house that people will just do what she tells them to do. She is very bossy and, I admit, a lot of people do what she tells them to, but they’re only people who work for her or live in the village and are a bit frightened of her.
Mum’s not even with Dad any more, so as if she’s going to do what his mum tells her to do! Hah. Mum doesn’t even do what her own mum tells her to do! Hey, actually neither do I, but then I’m not supposed to – I’m a teenager. Mum’s so stroppy I don’t think she’d do what GB told her to do even if it was ‘best for me’.
Hmm, maybe that’s not true. I don’t really and truly, deep down, think Mum’s a bad mum – apart from her excruciatingly embarrassing spilling-her-guts-about-every-single-boring-thing-in-her-life blog (now column) and liking Dumbledore Chops, she’s okay. And I think if she really believed I’d be better off living at GB’s and back at Greyfriars then she’d let me go, but THANK GOD that isn’t true so Mum does not have to think about it.
But I am feeling a bit wobbly, right now, TBH. GB’s not squishy and cuddly and warm like Gran is, and she never makes nice puddings. GB’s all about long walks in the freezing cold being good for you and she’d never understand what I was feeling or even care about that sort of thing if I was upset or cross or stroppy, like Gran does. Oh god, I SO DON’T WANT TO GO THERE. I know I annoy Mum a lot, sometimes on purpose, I admit it, but I hope she won’t let GB take me. She wouldn’t, would she? No matter how cross I make Mum I don’t think she’d be angry enough to let GB take me. And Gran wouldn’t either, would she? I know we’re all a bit squashed in Gran’s tiny house but we’re all right, aren’t we? Lots of people live in smaller places. Gran and Mum won’t decide there’d be more space without me, would they?
At break, I told my gang all about the letter. They could not believe GB had that kind of nerve.
A’isha said, ‘Does she think she’s the queen or something?!’
I replied with a completely straight face. ‘Nah, she thinks she’s much better than her,’ and everyone laughed.
Grace, of course it would be her, said, ‘To be fair, she’s only thinking about your education and if she believes that school to be the best then one can see her point of view.’
‘One?’ Emz turned to her and repeated it. ‘One?!’
And then we all joined in and said it again, ‘One?!’
Grace held her nerve, which I do secretly admire, I have to say, and replied, ‘Yes. “One” is the correct impersonal pronoun to use in this context.’
‘Yeah but it isn’t “one”, it’s you!’ I chipped in, laughing.
I wasn’t taking the mick but obvs we couldn’t let Grace use such a la-di-da word like that for the first time without saying something about it! I mean, I know she practically eats books she loves them soooooo much, but you still can’t say ‘one’ in front of your mates and not expect them to give you a bit of a hard time.
Grace pursed her lips and looked at us all, giving us a sort of teacher-y I’m-annoyed-with-you-lot stare and then said, ‘One is going to use any words one bloody well likes.’
And we all burst out laughing, including Grace. It was so funny, especially because Grace NEVER swears. Grace never really makes jokes, so when she does it is extra hilarious.
Must remember to try ‘one’ out on Luke. I’ve never heard him use it and he actually does sleep with a dictionary under his pillow – the stupid moron thinks the words will sort of seep into his brain that way. Durr. AS IF. He’s going to die of envy when I ask him to pass ‘one’ the ketchup … Nah, that’s no good. I’ll have to think of something much more complicated than that. I don’t think that even makes sense.
Something really, really properly bad has happened and I don’t know what I’m going to do. I am actually, in real life, thinking of running away. I mean, I don’t want to go to GB’s, but I don’t want to be here. I am so scared. I walked into the playground at break today and I saw Dark Aly with a group of girls, all from our year, around her – and they were all hysterically laughing. It was clear Dark Aly was acting something out – she was twisting her hair round one of her fingers and obviously doing some sort of imitation that was cracking everyone up.
I didn’t care. Why would I? I’ve got nothing to do with Dark Aly and as long as she doesn’t get into more trouble than me and end up becoming cooler and more popular than me because of that I don’t ever think about her. The only times I worry about her is when I think about that and even then I’m not actually that bothered. Okay, I am a bit but, you know … not majorly. I haven’t even said anything to any of my gang, so that’s how not bothered I am.
So, a bit later, Esme, one of the girls who’d been with Dark Aly walked past me and super caj I asked her what had been so funny earlier that had made them all crack up. I knew I was safe asking Esme. She’s a bit of a drip so there was no way she was going to ask me why I was asking – like I would if it was the other way around!
‘Oh, Aly was doing a brilliant imitation of those girls from that documentary series about that posh private school in the country. It was hilarious – she got their accent exactly right.’
I didn’t know about the documentary series. How could I? We don’t have a TV! Not having a TV is one of Mum’s genius (NOT) ideas on how to get me to read more. She doesn’t realise that I can watch pretty much anything I like on my computer online. Durr. Or that I am actually reading quite a bit these days anyway. (Just thought – maybe I should stop hiding my books from her and then she might let us have a TV.)
The way Esme said it, it was clear she thought everyone would know about this documentary but of course I didn’t. I fe
lt sick. I don’t know why but somehow I just knew the school in it was going to turn out to be my old school – Greyfriars Ladies’ College. I was sure it would be. Why wouldn’t it be? Most of the girls there do have ridiculously posh accents. I never spoke like that, even when I was there. That was partly because I wasn’t as posh as most of them, but also they were deliberately trying to sound like that and they mainly sounded like they couldn’t get their mouths open very wide and like none of the words they used actually had consonants. Oh god, I wanted to die. What if it was my old school and anyone finds out I was there before? I literally do not know what I’ll do.
Later on, back in class, Mr Proper (real name, Proctor) asked us some questions and really unusually Dark Aly put her hand up to answer. Everyone immediately looked at her because she never ever puts her hand up, so obvs Sir said she should give the answer, which she did correctly, but not in her normal Darth Vader voice, in the Greyfriars accent, the one Esme said she’d been doing in the playground!
The whole class burst out laughing immediately, even Sir, who said, ‘I gather you’ve been watching Through Thick and Thin. Very good, Alexandra, most amusing. Now back to work, everyone.’
But he wasn’t cross with her, like he would have been with me. It was so unfair. Even Emz, A’isha and Grace thought it was funny. I could have killed them.
Afterwards I was walking behind a couple of the really popular cool boys from my class (they are so popular I’ve never even spoken to them) and I heard one of them say, ‘She really nailed that accent. Oh man, the girls at that place are all stuck-up morons,’ and the other replied, ‘Yeah, that’ll be why the programme’s called Through Thick and Thin,’ and then they both did high fives and cackled loudly.
The Endless Trials of Tabitha Baird Page 5
