The coach inched forward really slowly in a queue of coaches as soon as we got out of the Eurotunnel. At last we got to a barrier where there were loads of people in uniforms, sort of police, I guess, and one of them got on the coach.
Miss gave me a ‘this is your last chance’ look, but I crossed my arms and shook my head. I wasn’t giving in without a fight.
I was going to go through with this. I knew it was crunch time. I felt really sick and nervous but excited too. I could not cave in now. Miss gave the French woman a piece of paper (with all the official school stuff about the visit on it, I guess). The woman sort of glanced at it, nodded and then turned round like she was about to get off the bus. I couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed me in my forbidden-by-the-French headscarf. I was terrified I wasn’t even going to get the chance to make my protest at all. But, just as she was nearly off, she turned her head and saw me. Result!
She got back on the bus, looking all serious now, and said to Miss, but pointing at me, ‘Celui-là, non, non. C’est interdit en France.’ I remembered enough of my French from Greyfriars (I do Spanish now at HAC, which I much prefer) to understand, but I didn’t say anything. I just extra crossed my arms and stared straight ahead of me.
‘Tabitha, okay, you’ve made your point, and the French have noted your protest, now can you please take it off?’ Miss said. She, the French officer and now the coach driver were all staring at me like I was a major pain.
But I was not going to back down – EXTRA ESPECIALLY because A’isha, of all people, the only one of our gang who actually does wear a hijab, had taken off hers and she was the person I had started doing this whole thing for.
‘I am not taking it off and you can’t make me. It is a human right.’
I heard some of the class behind me let out ‘oooohs’. I was pleased about that. Luke (who else?) had told me about wearing it being a ‘human right’ thing. Of course I’d decided to ignore all the other stuff he’d said about depending on where you were in the world, blah, blah, blah. I just liked how official and serious ‘a human right’ sounded.
The French woman crossed her arms and stood in front of me while Miss sort of hovered beside her.
‘Come on, Tab. Please take it off. We’ve only got a day here. Don’t spoil it for everyone else,’ she whispered at me, half leaning down, with her hands on her thighs and her head tilted to one side, like Basil does when he’s trying to make you feel sorry for him.
I didn’t know what to do. I did feel bad for her but I also felt that I shouldn’t or couldn’t give in. I didn’t want to miss going into France and I definitely didn’t want to make everyone else miss it. I didn’t know what to do. And then, from a few seats back, I heard Dark Aly say in her I’m-so-goth-and-cool grunty way to whoever was sitting next to her, ‘Just wait, she’ll take it off. There’s no way she’s got the nerve to see this through.’
And although I am pretty sure I wouldn’t have taken it off anyway, that did it. That was it. I was going to keep that headscarf on if it killed me. There was NO WAY I was going to prove Dark Aly right. There was NO WAY she was going to use this to prove that she was cooler than me.
So I put my absolute best ‘nice’ face on and said, ‘I’m afraid it’s a point of principle, Miss, so I’ll be keeping it on.’
The French woman obviously understood and started babbling at Miss and waving her hands around and then she stormed off the bus, giving me a real stroppy look. Big deal. Who cares? She’s not the boss of me.
Miss turned to me and said, ‘Right, Tabitha, have it your own way, but you’ll have to stay on the bus the whole day wearing that –’ she pointed at the headscarf – ‘while we have our day trip, or you can take it off right now and come with us.’
OMG, I nearly died! I hadn’t thought about what would happen if I kept it on. I suppose I’d thought the French would just let me in, I guess. But it looked like Miss was actually going to leave me on the bus all day long. For one tiny minute I felt like bursting into tears. I had never thought that would happen. I’d never thought I’d be left on a stinky bus all day long while everyone, everyone including my bezzies, went swanning around France having a fab time without me.
It was soooooo unfair but I couldn’t just cave in, could I? I couldn’t go ‘Oh all right then. It’s no biggie’. How could I? Especially, extra especially, not after what Dark Aly had said. It was a biggie. This was huge. Not so much about telling the French they had stupid rules. It was about proving to A’isha that I wasn’t some stuck-up posh girl from the country who thinks she’s better than anyone who doesn’t look like her (that’s me, obvs).
Everyone was standing up to get off by now. I was the only one still sitting down. I could feel Dark Aly staring at me, glaring at me like she just knew I was going to give in at any moment. There was nothing for it: ‘Sorry, Miss, I have to stick to my principles.’ And that was it.
I literally sat on the stinky, boring, sweaty coach ALL DAY LONG wearing the headscarf because it wasn’t like I could take it off after all that, was it? So that was just great. Not. And I am not lying. Everyone else went around France for the whole day while I sat on the coach! Apparently it’s totes against the law to leave a pupil with a non-teacher i.e. the coach driver, so Miss got a bit flappy about that, which did make me feel extra-bad. In the end, though, they decided it’d be okay because he was the same driver they use for all the school trips so they’ve known him for years and he’s been ‘checked’, whatever that means. It definitely doesn’t mean he’s been checked for not smoking, though – he stank of grotty fags! Even the driver went off for a bit to stand around with the other coach drivers. Not that I wanted to talk to him. AS IF. I was there for, like, nearly seven hours. Seven hours! It was SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO boring. And I ate the whole of my packed lunch really early, like at ten thirty, because I was so bored and of course I hadn’t brought a book. Why would I? I didn’t think I was going to be doing any reading, did I?! Luckily, though, I searched the coach and found a book someone had left on a seat at the back. So I read that. It was all right actually. But I did think I was going to die of boredom and starvation. However, no matter how mind-numbingly bored I got I just knew I’d done the right thing and that everyone was going to talk about it for AGES! So that made it all a bit better.
After what seemed like a million trillion years I spotted everyone finally coming back. I could feel them all looking at me as they got on the coach like they were just waiting to see if I was going to ask what it was like or tell them I’d been bored but I just smiled and said, ‘Hi, hope it was fun.’ And of course I was still wearing the hijab. Hah! There was absolutely no chance I was going to let one single person know I had been more bored than I had ever been in my whole life before!
A’isha sat next to me on the drive back and when we got into the tunnel and it was all dark she turned to me and said, ‘I think what you did was so massive. I can’t believe you did it. I’m so impressed. It’s like the coolest thing ever. Anyway, the visit was a bit rubbish. I wish I’d stuck to my guns and stayed with you.’
I wanted to cry I was so pleased. It had all worked. I’d proved to A’isha (and everyone else, too, actually) that I believed in everyone and anyone’s right to wear whatever they want to wear. Even if I had nearly exploded with boredom and very nearly died of hunger too. (I def didn’t take enough sandwiches because, you know, I’d planned on sharing everyone else’s, hadn’t I?) I had made a Statement and that was BRILLIANT!!!!
Technically I can still say I’ve been to France, can’t I? Just because I didn’t – all right couldn’t – get off the coach, I have still been to France, haven’t I? When people are listing all the countries they’ve been to I can definitely say I’ve been to France, right? Because I have, even if I haven’t put my actual feet on French ground it definitely counts, doesn’t it?
I still think Mum and Gran are going to be proud of me. Obvs Mum is going to go on about missing some boring museum or important sight, blah, blah, b
lah, because she’s just like that. But I do think they’ll both be impressed that I actually had the nerve to go through with the protest when NO ONE ELSE DID!
Okay, now that the French trip is over I’ll have to take Basil out. This is it. I’ve got to do it. I can’t keep putting it off.
I’ve paid Luke fifty pence twice now to do it for me on the condition he didn’t tell anyone. But it’s too expensive and I haven’t got enough money to keep doing that and anyway he’s bound to tell someone sooner or later, the little squirt. There’s nothing for it.
Gran noticed I hadn’t taken Basil out for a few days and reminded me that I needed to get ‘that phone number’. Oh yeah, as if I’d forgotten that I have to humiliate myself – like forgetting that is ever going to happen. I could have kept using my brilliant other route but there was no way Gran was going to forget. I had to face the music, as Mum likes to say – why face the music, I don’t know!
IF I see Sam and Bonnie (and I am praying to all gods and keeping every single thing crossed I don’t), I know that I have got to ask for his phone number. I can’t see a way out of it. I’m just going to ask really, really quickly in the most casual what’s-the-big-deal way I can manage and then I’ll run for it.
Nah, actually, thinking about it I’m going to look totes crazy if I do that and even more like I’m madly in love with him. Ridic. Running off is going to make me look like I’m three years old or something.
Okay, so I’ll just really super caj mention Gran and in a no-big-deal style say she’d like to talk to his mum about the puppies because Basil’s the dad. Yeah, I can probably manage that. Must remember to keep my cool, though: no sniggering and no babbling and def no giving him the whole story about Gran and Mum rowing about the puppies. Okay, here we go. Wish me luck. Laters.
OMG, you are so not going to believe what happened. It is soooo incredible and brilliant. I am so happy. I have literally just danced around my room. Did not make the mistake of dancing around in the hall again giving Luke a chance to say something sarky. I know it’s a bit bonkers, but I don’t care. I could burst I’m sooooooo happy.
So I did see Sam and Bonnie: they were way down the road from me and, okay, I admit I did think about turning back to avoid them. I felt so sick with nerves but then I realised I just had to do it.
So I kept walking towards them and when we met, like halfway, before I had a chance to say anything Sam said, ‘Hey, my mum was wondering if when the puppies come you’d like to come over and see them, and bring your gran …’ And then he smiled and continued, ‘Because after all, she is Basil’s mum, isn’t she?’
I nearly burst with relief. I had to literally stop myself dive-bombing the pavement shouting ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’. Obvs if I’d done that I’d have looked completely pathetic and desperate and that would have been way worse than having had to ask for his phone number in the first place, but you know what I mean. The relief of not having to ask HIM for his phone number was EPIC.
I couldn’t believe he’d invited ME over, okay us, and at the same time saved me from the total shame of having to ask for his number. I know he didn’t know he’d saved me from a fate worse than death but still it was sooooooooooo amazing that I hadn’t had to ask. I wanted to do a jig of happiness. Yes, again, I know I would have looked like a total pranny, but I’m just saying that’s how happy I was.
What actually happened in the end, and this is a hilarious turnaround, was HE said, ‘So, give me your number and I’ll text you when the puppies come, and then you can come over. That okay?’
I’ll admit, I did say ‘Yes, that’d be brilliant!’ a bit too quickly and loudly and super keenly, but, you know, that’s still MUCH better than having to ask him for his number.
Thinking about it now – it is sort of a date, isn’t it? It does count as one, doesn’t it? I know he didn’t actually ask me out or anything specific like that, but he obviously doesn’t mind me coming over, even if it was his mum’s idea, because if he’d minded he’d have told her he didn’t want me to come over and that she could forget about Gran seeing the puppies.
Oh man, I’ve just had a thought. What if it was HIS idea and not his mum’s at all?! What if the whole ‘why don’t you come and see the puppies’ thing is really just to get me over to his house?! That would be so amazing and romantic and adorable.
Erm, durr. Just thought about it some more. I am an idiot. Of course he didn’t make it up to get me over – he asked me to bring Gran! Durr. Double-durr. Huh, more like triple-durr. What a dummy I am! No one asks someone to bring their granny with them if they’re trying to be romantic! It must def have been his mum’s idea. Anyway, never mind, that doesn’t really matter. I’m still going to his house and he’s got my number, so yay, yay, yay!
I must just make sure I don’t get too excited and don’t go thinking-about-it-all-the-time-y. You know, like, thinking about how it’s going to be when we’re there or whether he feels the same as I do or whether we’ll be alone when we’re at his or how many days it’s going to be until he calls or whether we’ll get married and have lots of kids and puppies of our own … STOP IT NOW! I am already doing it. MUST STOP IT IMMEDIATELY.
Okay. That’s it. I am only going to check my phone ONCE AN HOUR, absolute max, every day until I hear from him. Hmm. Okay, that is a bit extra, isn’t it? Cos that is like practically never. I might as well not have a mobile at all if I do that! Okay, so I will check it once every half hour … Hmm, all right, okay, maybe every fifteen minutes but def no more … except when it pings because then I can check it like I would ordinarily, durr. If it pings obvs I’ve got to check it immediately. That’s standard. I’m just saying I must try not to check it more than every fifteen mins when there’s no ping. You know, like you do sometimes in case a text or call has come in but you didn’t hear it? Because that does happen quite a lot, especially when it’s on silent like it has to be when we’re in class. All right, so, okay, thinking about it, if it’s on silent then I can check it as much as I like, can’t I, because otherwise I won’t actually know if he’s sent a text unless I keep checking it. That makes sense, doesn’t it?
It is the end of the world as I know it. Official. I might as well give everything up right now. I might as well lie down on my bed, put my pillow over my head and stay there forever and ever. I am never leaving this house, ever. In fact, it’s all so horrible, awful and mankenstein I might as well go and live with GB and Dad after all, because my life here is OVER. Mum has literally ruined my life. And on purpose.
You know Mum’s stupid, moronic boo-hoo-poor-me blog that she now writes for a newspaper? A newspaper everyone in the world can buy or, even worse, read online? After she refused not to write the column, like I asked, I made her promise she’d never write about me in a way that would mean anyone at all, especially not anyone at school, would ever be able to work out that she was my mum and that it was me she was writing about. And she agreed. ’S’true she didn’t actually swear on my and Luke’s lives, like I begged, but she def agreed to be careful and only write about stuff all teenagers do. That is definitely what she said and she cannot deny it! But she lied! Of course, being Mum, she’s saying she didn’t lie and that I am being ridiculous and, get this, oversensitive. Incredible. Me being oversensitive?!
It’s actually my fault, according to her! Right, and she’s just being super sensitive and incredibly normal as per. NOT. Okay, so how many teenagers do you think have worn a hijab on a coach trip to France when they’re not Muslims to start with?! That’s right. No one. Exactly, none. Except for me, Tabitha Baird. I must be the only kid in the world who’s done that. But Mum wrote about it in her column and, get this, she still thinks no one is going to know it’s me! She obviously knew she shouldn’t have done it. Because even though she won’t admit it I know she feels guilty. I just knew she was doing something sneaky because she tried to stop me looking over her shoulder at her laptop and I wasn’t actually even really trying to read anything. AS IF.
So, that, plus suspiciously closing her laptop really quickly, is what made guess she was up to something she knew I’d hate. I realised she was writing her column, but I knew she wouldn’t let me read it, obvs. Anyway, she’d smell a rat straight away if I did ask to because I’ve always been so down on it. So, later on, when she was in the shower I sneaked down and read it. Mum’s password is my and Luke’s names – duh, like, genius. How do parents not know that that is every single parent’s password?!
Okay, I admit that in the column she wasn’t being horrible about my protest and the whole idea and everything. In fact, it read like she was actually a bit proud of me for seeing it through, but still EVERYONE WILL KNOW IT’S ME and that is a major life-ending catastrophe! I know everyone that matters to me already knows what happened and what I did – that’s not it. It’s that they will now know it is my mum’s column, so if she writes about … I don’t know … something super private or embarrassing, like … I dunno, something like … erm … say, me still having Muzzy in bed with me at night (which BTW I am actually NOT embarrassed about but don’t exactly want talked about in a newspaper, thank you very much) or me trying to stop Luke using the same toilet as me (again, not ashamed of that but don’t want the whole world knowing about it – even though I am completely in the right about that because of his disgusting wee) or … oh god, the worst, and I absolutely bet she will write about this: how I feel about who-Luke-and-I-think-is-probably-now-her-boyfriend – bleurgh, pukarama, mankenstein – Dumbledore Chops.
The Endless Trials of Tabitha Baird Page 7
