Oh yes. That is EXACTLY the sort of thing she’s going to write about: how difficult it is for her because I’m, according to her, ‘not nice to him’, even though, according to her, he’s so ‘great with me’ and understanding and calm blah, blah, blah. I’m the one who’ll decide if he’s ‘great with me’ and I’ve already decided he’s not. Unless if by ‘great with me’ Mum means he’s always here, always trying to ‘get down with the kids’ (which is what he hilariously calls talking to me and Luke in front of us but not to us – please kill me now) and always nodding his head the entire time anyone’s talking in the most annoying look-at-me-I-am-listening-to-you-as-if-your-opinions-really-matter-to-me way, then, suuuuuuure, he is just GREAT with me. So, you see, once everyone’s realised it’s me thanks to the hijab story then they’re obviously going to keep reading it so they can see what else she writes about me. Stands to reason, doesn’t it?! I mean, I’d read a column in a grown-up’s newspaper if I thought there was going to be stuff about someone from my school in it, who wouldn’t?!
It is today that the column is in the paper. TODAY. I’m already late for school, but I just can’t face it. I cannot face everyone. What if they’ve all read it and then they’ll all know it’s my mum?! Oh god, because of that, what if anyone looks up the old ones on her blog? There’ll be worse-than-death ones. I am sure she’ll have written about Dad and his drinking, them breaking up, Dad losing all the money we ever had, having to sell the house …
Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod. I’ve just thought – what if she’s ever written about me having been at Greyfriars Ladies’ College?! Then they are ALL going to know I was at the school in the documentary. They’re going to think I was like all those girls, that I used to talk in the same ridiculous accent those girls do, and even though they’d be wrong they’re going to think that all I ever wanted was an all-over tan and a pony!!!! Oh god, I don’t know what to do. I can’t go in if anyone at all has read it. I just can’t.
My phone’s just pinged. It’s school saying I’ll get a detention if I’m not there before second period. I already know that. Everyone knows that’s what happens if you’re late. Hah, a detention?! If anyone’s seen the column and worked out it’s written by my mum they might as well get ready to give me detention for the rest of my life because I am NEVER going back to school if they have. That is DEFINITE.
Huh. I don’t know what to think. It’s all a bit weird. I feel a bit funny. I am NOT used to this feeling. Today did NOT go how I expected, thank god. Got to school, right, and managed to slip in before period two started. My super pal A’isha told me she’d made an excuse for why I wasn’t at registration (and they believed her, durr!) and then I thought I was going to die. It was ECS (education, culture and society, the longest and most boring way in the world of saying RE, which apparently you’re not allowed to say any more) and just as class started I saw Miss (it was Ms Cantor aka Eva), had a copy of the newspaper Mum’s column is in on her desk.
I went all hot and panicky. Just like I’d been scared of and the reason I’d been late. My absolute worst nightmare was coming true. It was going to happen. I was sure – even though I’ve always thought she was nice, the nicest teacher actually – I just knew she was going to read it out aloud to the whole class. And then it happened. It was all sort of in slow motion, like watching a horrible car crash or something. I wanted to run as fast as I could out of the class.
Miss stood up and opened the newspaper at exactly the place I knew Mum’s column was. I knew this was the end of my life; I just knew it was all over. I stared at the floor wishing with all my might it would open up and swallow me up. I’d broken into a sweat. It was all I could do to stop myself bursting into tears.
‘Class, I was going to talk to you about acts of kindness today and then I saw this in the paper and I thought it would be the perfect illustration of how a small act can carry a great deal of power,’ Miss said to us all.
Of course I was the only one who knew what was coming. And then she started to read the column aloud. I was so upset and panic-stricken it took me a few minutes to realise that even though it was Mum’s column it wasn’t about the whole hijab thing. It was nearly that story but it was about a teenage girl who, even though she wasn’t Jewish, had worn a Star of David necklace because one of her bezzies was Jewish and the school they were at wouldn’t allow them to wear any jewellery, so she’d worn it out of ‘solidarity’.
I wanted to jump for joy I was so relieved. I could not believe Mum had changed her story. I was sooooo pleased. I just wanted to dance around the room, going ‘That’s not me, that’s not me. Everybody, that is not me!’, but luckily I quickly realised that (apart from looking like a total loon) saying ‘That’s not me’ would make most people immediately guess that it was of course me!
I was so grateful to Mum … not that I should be that grateful actually, you know, because she should never have written it in the first place, but still I was very, VERY pleased.
As soon as I got home I ran in and gave Mum a big hug. ‘That’s a lovely treat. What’s it for?’ Mum said, looking at me and pushing my hair away from my face, which I usually hate but this time it was okay … it was sort of nice. It was a bit like being little again.
‘You know,’ I replied.
She gave me a big smile and said, ‘I was very proud of what you did, you know?’ I hadn’t actually known, so it was nice to hear. And then I went upstairs, because TBH I didn’t want the whole thing to turn into a blub fest. Obvs I love Mum to bits and everything but I can’t hang about all day letting her hug me. I am not a toddler!
Mum called up the stairs just as I got to my room. ‘By the way, darling, it was Frank who persuaded me to change the column … not to put you and the hijab thing in it. So maybe he’s not a complete monster …’
I didn’t reply, though. I mean, so what? Who cares? Dumbledore Chops probably only did it so that Mum would tell me and I’ll suddenly love him because of it. Big deal. Hmm, I am grateful, though … Obvs not to him. I didn’t ask him to do anything … Still, it is a very good thing that she didn’t put that stuff in … so, you know, I guess that was nice of him to talk to her … but I’m not going to thank him or anything extra like that. It was his decision, not mine. I didn’t ask him to interfere, so, you know … that’s on him.
Oh yeah, meant to say, get this, after Miss had read the column out she asked us all what we thought. As you can probably guess I was super terrified someone might guess it was written by my mum. Obvs there was absolutely no reason to guess that. How could anyone? It’s just because I thought someone might guess because of how panicky I had looked.
And then Dark Aly put her hand up and said, ‘That’s a bit like what Tab did with the hijab and the trip to France, isn’t it?’
I thought I was going to be sick at first, because I was sure she knew it was my mum and was making sure everyone else realised that the story was actually about me and that she was taking the mick. Emz, A’isha and Grace all stared at me. I could tell they were all thinking what I was thinking: does she know it’s sort of about you?
No one knew what to do. If Dark Aly had guessed the truth then I was done for. I nearly passed out with terror.
But then, before any of us had a chance to think up something to say that might put Dark Aly off the scent, she said, ‘Yeah, that was pretty cool. There’s no way any of those morons from that ladies’ college in the documentary would do a thing like that.’ And then she looked over and nodded at me – in exactly the same way the really cool boys nod at each other in the corridor when they don’t know each other well enough to stop and talk. You know, how they nod to sort of say ‘We’re not going to stop and talk because we’re not mates but … I know you who are … respect.’
I am sure that is what Dark Aly was saying to me with her nod and even though I don’t actually think she is cooler than me I will admit that she is definitely scarier so it was pretty great that she’d said that – in fact, it was completely br
illiant that she’d said that about the documentary. So she definitely doesn’t know I went to there. And of course, nearly as brilliant, she obvs didn’t know the column was written by my mum or was, in fact, anything to do with me at all. MAJOR PHEW plus MAJOR RESULT.
AAAAAAAAARGH – today is THE day! Oh man, I am soooo nervous. I’m super excited too but mainly nervous. Aaaaaaaargh.
Today is the day Gran and I go to Sam’s. I AM GOING TO SAM’S HOUSE. Oh yes! He finally texted me after nearly a whole week. I must have checked my phone three thousand gazillion times a day since I gave him my number. And I kept my mobile on all night too and next to me in bed, which of course means I have been woken up, like, practically a billion times in the middle of the night every night this last week by stupid moronic robots asking me if they can help me collect my pension (pension, hello?! I’m thirteen!) or get some money for the accident I might not remember having. Like, durr, if you’ve had an accident I think you might just remember having it!
I was beginning to think Sam was never going to call, that maybe he’d regretted suggesting we come round or that he’d realised I liked him and didn’t want me to come round if I liked him in ‘that’ way because he already knew he didn’t like me back in THAT way. Actually after a couple of days of not getting any texts or anything from him and weirdly not seeing him now that I was using the old walking route again I started worrying that he’d maybe been in some horrible accident or died or worse – I didn’t know what! And then I started really panicking in case he was deliberately taking Bonnie out for walks at different times precisely so that he wouldn’t bump into me because he regretted asking us over. Anyway, I did get a text from him AT LAST inviting Gran and me (and Basil, which was super sweet of him) round to tea today, Saturday.
I am soooooooo glad he didn’t suggest a school day because then I’d have had no time to get dressed properly. I’d have just had to come straight in from school and change and rush out and not properly prepare what I was wearing and how I looked and everything. Okay, look, I know it’s not An Actual Date and I’m not saying my whole life revolves around Sam and what he thinks of me but, you know, I don’t want to turn up looking all I’ve-been-at-school-all-day-ish. Hmm, just thinking about that, must also make sure I don’t turn up looking like I’ve thought and planned how to look for far too long either. That’d make me look like I’d come straight from the Desperate Department!
We’re invited for four p.m. Tea, the text said. I guess that means tea, as in the drink and biscuits, yeah? Must remember not eat too many biscuits. Hah – Mum would be pleased if she saw I’d written that! I don’t care really how many biscuits I eat, but I don’t want to look like a fat person who always eats tons of biscuits. Funny, isn’t it, you always think someone looks fatter if see them eating fattening things, don’t you? Even if they’re not actually that fat at all. Or maybe that’s just me. Maybe only I do that because of Mum always going on about ‘Don’t eat this, don’t eat that’. Hmm. Yeah, thinking about it, it’s Mum’s fault I feel fat sometimes because I only ever feel fat when she tells me I shouldn’t be eating something.
Anyway, so I’m going to wear my super-cool ripped-at-the-knee black jeans, my new and completely fantastic and gorge in every way pink DMs and my big baggy sweater because that will totes caj down the whole outfit, and make it look like I haven’t thought about what to wear every single minute of every single day since I got the invitation, which of course I have, but I can’t look like that’s what I’ve done, obvs.
Also, I don’t want to look like it’s the first time I’ve ever been to a-boy-I-like’s house. I know IT IS the first time I’ve done that – ever – but my outfit doesn’t need to shout that out, does it? I mean, Mum (who doesn’t even know I like Sam or anything about him, thank god) suggested I wear that red dress she bought me last Christmas!!!! Is she completely mad?! Wear a dress?! I like the dress, you know, but hello: a) it is a dress, which is about exactly the same as wearing something with PLEASE LOOK AT ME. I HAVE DRESSED UP SPECIALLY FOR YOU written across the front of it, b) it is red and red is also just about the most PLEASE LOOK AT ME colour ever invented, and c) who wears a dress to go and meet dogs?!
I know I’ve met Bonnie, Sam’s mum’s dog (can you say ‘met’ when you’re talking about animals? I know Gran would!) but still, we’re going to the house to ‘meet’ (?!) her and her family properly.
Oh god, I’ve just thought. Please, please, please, do not let Gran say anything about including Basil in the conversation or let her talk for him or say what he’s ‘thinking’. I will die of shame. I want to look super cool at Sam’s and not like I’m directly related to a person who is completely bonkers! Gran is great and I love her to bits of course, but, you know, I don’t want people I hardly know thinking ‘Hellooooo?! A talking dog? Is she crazy?’
TBH I know deep down Gran doesn’t really, really, really believe Basil can talk, but she believes for sure that he understands everything, and she most definitely believes he ACTUALLY LIKES all those knitted outfits she makes for him. Yeah, thinking about all that, I can see how that would make her sound like a Proper Bonkers Person to someone who doesn’t know her like I do. How am I going to let Sam and his mum know that I don’t believe all the stuff Gran believes about Basil if she does start talking about him as if he was human?! I want to be loyal to Gran, but I don’t want anyone to think I’m like she is about her dog.
It’s really hard sometimes to be on someone’s side but also to let other people know you’re kind of against them when they’re a bit extra. It’s a bit like that with Grace sometimes when she is so ridiculously super-swot-of-the-century, and like so extra with homework, knowledge, facts, etc. that you can just see others at school looking at her like ‘Are you for real?’ and then giving us other three looks like they’re expecting us to agree with them. It’s SO hard not to give them back looks like ‘Yeah, we know! What is she like?!’ And it’s especially hard for me, because everyone knows I’m the one who never really does homework and all that, so they’re def expecting me to give them that kind of look back or to say something kind of putting Grace down. But I can’t and I don’t really want to.
I want to be popular and cool but I do not want to be one of those people who have a gang of bezzies who they’ll immediately be horrible about when they’re not with them so that everyone thinks they’re cool. But it is sooooo hard sometimes. Grace is just not cool. Fact.
Actually that’s not true. She is cool because she is so totes happy to be her own kind of person and doesn’t worry about what others think of her. She’s just not like regular-cool, I guess, which I suppose kind of makes her super cool in the end, if you think about it. Anyway, I’m glad she’s one of us now but I’d still rather be my kind of cool than her kind of cool. Maybe there’s room for all kinds of cool … There should be anyway really, shouldn’t there?
Like Dark Aly, for example. I mean, she isn’t that bad after all. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to become her bezzy or anything like that, but she’s not quite as grumpy and leave-me-alone-y and as in-your-face-goth as she makes out. In a way, I actually think she maybe sort of wants to be included a bit more … you know how sometimes when you need something you actually pretend you extra don’t need it? Her so-super-cool-I’m-frosty might all be a front.
Sam is cool, that is for sure. Soooooo cool. Tall, with lush brown glossy hair and he’s really funny. Sam is regular-cool, not quirky-cool like Grace, which I’m super pleased about. Can’t wait to go over and hang out with him. Oh man, if he asks me out properly after this we might become a couple and then we could walk our dogs together at the same time and maybe be like a cool couple with matching dogs – and how cool is that?!
Oh, I don’t know how to begin. I am really cross. And I’m really angry. And I am upset too, obvs, but mainly angry and cross. I don’t know if Gran’s to blame or Sam’s mum or what. No, actually I know Gran’s not to blame. But I do know it’s all gone wrong and horrid, and I hate Sam
and his stuck-up mum. Sam is not cool. Sam is the complete opposite of cool. And I am never ever going to talk to him again as long as I live.
Gran and I went to Sam’s house. It’s huge! Well, much bigger than ours anyway. It’s up that swanky road, which is fine, you know, but walking up to their front door, which you get to up steps at the end of a long garden path, did feel a bit scary. For a horrible minute I thought a butler might answer the front door but, thank god, it was Sam and Bonnie who started yapping away as soon as she saw Basil.
And then Sam’s mum appeared. ‘Hello, welcome. I’m Samantha, Sam’s mum,’ she said as she walked towards us. ‘And this must be naughty, naughty Basil,’ she continued, kneeling down and wagging her finger at Basil right in front of his face.
If I’d been him I’d have bitten it off. I thought it was a bit rude, greeting us like that. He’s not naughty. He just did what all dogs do when girl dogs are around who are … bleurgh … you know. Anyway, I did think it was a bit extra of her to say that when she was meeting us for the very first time. It felt like she was saying ‘You two obviously have to agree with me that this is all Basil’s fault’ straight away.
The Endless Trials of Tabitha Baird Page 8
