I chewed my bottom lip. ‘So am I.’
‘Oh, Sunita.’ She put her arm round my shoulders. ‘We’ll open it together.’
I put my thumb under the flap and carefully slit the envelope open. Ripping it carelessly felt wrong.
My fingers were shaking so much, I couldn’t get the card out. Mum put her hand over mine and helped me.
The card had a pink, glittery cat on the front holding a cake with candles. Across the top it read, To my daughter. Inside it said, Hope you have a lovely day! And underneath, Dad xxx. Nothing else. It was a huge anticlimax.
‘Is that it?’ My voice cracked.
Mum swallowed audibly. ‘At least we know he’s alive.’
‘Hope you have a lovely day,’ I read out. ‘Well, that’s not very likely, is it? In the circumstances.’
Mum hugged me, and we stood there silently for a while. We drew apart when Debbie came charging in from the garden.
‘Mum, can we have another pancake?’ she panted. ‘Davey threw the last one too high, and it got stuck in the tree.’
I slid the card behind me out of sight. Questions were teeming in my head about Dad, the card – everything – but I needed to be on my own to think it through. I managed to smile at Debbie. ‘What are you two up to?’ My voice wasn’t normal, but it was a good try.
‘Mum gave us the leftover pancakes to play with.’ Debbie beamed at me. ‘They make great frisbees.’
Mum forced a laugh. ‘At least they’re good for something,’ she said. ‘Go and tell Davey it’s time to come in now.’
‘Oh, M-u-u-um.’ Debbie pouted.
‘Mrs Brodie’s home,’ said Mum sternly. ‘Remember what I told you?’
‘Ooh!’ Debbie’s big brown eyes almost popped out of her head. ‘Will she really put a spell on us and turn us into frogs?’
I raised my eyebrows at Mum, who looked sheepish.
‘Yes, she will,’ she muttered. ‘Now go and get Davey in.’
‘I don’t care if Mrs Brodie turns Davey into a frog,’ Debbie said sulkily. ‘He’s horrible. He tried to put a pancake down my knickers.’
‘Debbie! Get Davey in right now!’ Mum made a dash at her and, with a squeal, Debbie ran off towards the back door.
‘Nice one, Mum,’ I said, following her into the kitchen. ‘Give the kids nightmares by telling them the neighbour’s a witch.’
‘It’s the only way I can get them to come in—’ Mum began defensively.
The doorbell rang, loudly and shrilly.
Mum and I froze, literally froze, right where we were standing. I couldn’t even take a breath.
‘Who – who’s that?’ I mouthed at Mum. Memories of endless police visits and journalists knocking at the door and trying to peer into our front windows rushed through my head. The card in my hand seemed to grow hot and burn my skin. I felt like a criminal.
‘I don’t know,’ Mum stared helplessly at me. ‘Shall I answer it?’
‘No!’
We huddled round the kitchen door, which was slightly ajar, and peered through the narrow gap. We could see a blurry shape in a red coat through the glass rectangle in the front door.
‘It looks like Mrs Brodie,’ I whispered.
‘Oh.’ Just one word, and Mum sounded guilty. I stared accusingly at her.
‘Well,’ she whispered, fidgeting from one foot to the other, ‘it was raining, really hard. Her washing was outside, and I knew she’d gone out. And there’s that gap in the fence between our gardens, so …’
I groaned. ‘You went next door and took Mrs Brodie’s washing down?’
Mum nodded, biting her lip. ‘I put it in her shed, out of the rain. I didn’t think she’d guess it was me. It could have been one of the other neighbours, after all. Her side gate’s never locked.’
I couldn’t help smiling. Although Mum very definitely wanted to be left alone at the moment, she couldn’t help being friendly and helping people out because that was just the way she was. And it was going to be difficult keeping ourselves to ourselves for ever. We were living in a narrow street, crammed with little terraced houses. I wondered how long it would take before she gave in and started getting to know people.
The doorbell rang again.
‘Keep quiet and she’ll go away,’ Mum hissed desperately.
‘MUM! DEBBIE PUT A SNAIL IN MY EAR!’
Two pairs of small feet thundered into the kitchen.
‘I DID NOT PUT IT IN YOUR EAR, YOU FIBBER!’ Debbie bellowed, her round face as red as a tomato, ‘I JUST PUT IT NEXT TO YOUR EAR, SO YOU COULD HEAR WHAT IT WAS SAYING!’
Mum and I each clapped a hand over the mouth nearest to us. The twins squirmed and wriggled, but we held onto them until Mrs Brodie had gone.
‘Now,’ Mum said at last, releasing Davey. ‘I want you twins to go and watch TV quietly, because I’m going to be very busy for the next hour or two. I’m making a special birthday tea for Sunita.’
‘Will we be able to eat it?’ Debbie asked, solemn-faced.
‘I think so,’ Mum said with a smile. ‘I’ll make some sandwiches, and we have cakes, which’ – she held up her hand as both twins opened their mouths – ‘I bought at the supermarket.’
Debbie and Davey clapped and cheered.
‘I’ll get on with my homework then.’ I was longing to be on my own.
Upstairs in my tiny cupboard of a bedroom, I stood the card on the windowsill. Then I sat and stared at it as if it might contain a secret message or some sort of code. Of course, it didn’t. I supposed that Mum would have to tell the police about the card. They’d said they wanted to know if we received any messages from Dad. Not that this would tell them very much.
Hope you have a lovely day. How? How could I have a lovely day?
As I’d done countless times before, I wondered where Dad was. India, America, England? Somewhere else? I imagined him hiding in a secret compartment in a house, and never coming out, like Anne Frank. Or if he wasn’t in hiding, was he in disguise? Would I even recognize him if I passed him in the street?
The biggest question of all was, of course, if he was ever coming back.
I didn’t know.
There are 365 days in a year, fifty-two and a bit weeks, five days of school a week minus holidays. It worked out to – oh, days and days and days when I had no choice but to grit my teeth and go to school. I hadn’t told Mum yet that my secret was out. She had enough to worry about. I was hoping, as Zara had said, that people would get used to me being around. I just had to give them time.
But I knew that Celina and her gang of drama queens (including Jack Browning) didn’t have any intention of letting me off the hook. It was partly my own fault for making serious enemies of them. I knew I should have kept my big mouth shut.
I don’t suppose they were waiting for me on purpose when I arrived at school the next day, but they were grouped casually around the gates, chatting, and there was no way of avoiding them except to climb over a two-metre-high fence. I went for the cool option and walked past them, narrowly avoiding Jack’s foot, stuck out deliberately to trip me up.
‘There’s a totally gross smell around here,’ purred Celina, holding a finger under her nose. ‘Has anyone else noticed?’
‘Yeah, smells like a dirty thief to me,’ Jack agreed.
‘Oh dear, no marks for originality,’ I yawned, strolling by. ‘Keep trying.’
Celina just smiled, cat-like, confident that she could get under my skin. ‘I’m going to ask my dad to complain to Mrs Bright. We shouldn’t have to go to school with the daughter of a criminal.’
‘Celina’s dad’s the mayor,’ Chloe chimed in haughtily.
‘Well, fancy that!’ I oozed sarcasm. ‘I am incredibly impressed. No, really.’
Celina shrugged. She was determined not to let me get under her skin. ‘My dad’s been elected mayor because he’s an honest, upstanding member of the community,’ she drawled, running a hand through her glossy hair. ‘Something you and your dad would know
nothing about.’
‘Are you saying I’m not honest?’ I should have left it, I know. But something inside me couldn’t.
‘Well, duh.’ Celina rolled her eyes expressively at me. ‘I know it was your dad who stole the money, but you must have known what was going on. You and your mum.’
‘Yeah, you must have all been in it together,’ Danielle added spitefully.
My hands bunched into fists. I knew I should walk away, I knew they were only trying to wind me up, but the injustice made me flame with anger.
‘My mum and I had no idea,’ I said in a shaking voice, wondering if Mrs Bright would suspend me if I grabbed Celina and the grinning Jack by the neck and banged their heads together.
There was a chorus of jeers which infuriated me even more.
‘Yeah, right!’ Jack sneered. ‘You ought to get done for – what d’they call it? Receiving stolen goods.’ He puffed himself up like a peacock. ‘Yeah, that’s it.’
A red mist danced in front of my eyes. What I was going to do next would definitely have got me suspended, maybe even expelled. But nothing happened because right then Mr Arora shambled through from the teachers’ car park, clutching an untidy pile of folders and exercise books. His eyes looked crusted with sleep, as if he could barely keep them open. He was followed by the three golden and glamorous girls I’d met yesterday, while looking for the school office.
The tall girl, Amber, caught my eye and smiled. ‘All right?’ she said casually, and walked on.
Just that was enough to stop me in my tracks. It was more than being nice to me, it was treating me like a normal person. It reminded me that if I wanted to fit in, I had to get on with it.
I pulled myself together with an effort. Ignoring Celina and Jack and their taunts, I turned away and walked into school. I would not let them beat me.
I was still congratulating myself when I came face to face with a second problem. Zara Kennedy and Henry Williams were both lurking at the classroom door, pretending not to be looking out for me.
‘Hi, Sunita,’ Zara called. ‘You’re sitting next to me again today, aren’t you?’ She shot Henry a poisonous stare.
‘Th-th-there’s a seat by me too,’ Henry said nervously, keeping his distance from Zara. ‘If you’re interested.’
‘She’s not,’ snapped Zara, trying to shove him out of the way. Being small and weedy, she looked like a mouse trying to shift an elephant. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? She’s sitting next to me.’
‘I-I just thought she might like a change of scenery,’ stammered Henry, who looked terrified but was no way giving in.
I felt my brief good mood melting away in an instant. ‘Stop!’ I raised my hand. ‘Do either of you two know how people actually make friends? They get together because they both want to, and because they’ve got things in common.’ I looked from one to the other. ‘Spot the difference?’
‘Help!’ Zara raised her arms and waved them in the air. ‘Save me from the huge rush of people who want to be your friends! I’m getting trampled!’ She dropped her arms and looked pointedly round. ‘Spot the difference?’
‘Both of you, just stop hassling me, OK?’ I said crossly, and flounced into the room. I was annoyed only because Zara was right. While I had no friends, I would always be the odd one out. On the other hand, I didn’t want to be one of the odd ones. I did not want to hang out with losers. I would only give in if I was desperate, and I hadn’t got there yet …
I longed to sit somewhere else, other than next to Zara, but thought that I’d better ask Mr Arora first. However, when he trudged in yawning, as usual, he looked so depressed, I decided against it.
‘What’s the matter with Mr Arora?’ I asked Zara. I didn’t want to talk to her, but curiosity got the better of me. ‘Every day he looks half dead.’
Zara glanced smugly at Henry, who was observing us closely. ‘His wife’s just had a baby,’ she replied. ‘I suppose it keeps them awake at night, crying. He actually fell asleep in a maths class just before half-term.’
‘Oh.’ I looked at Mr Arora with sympathy. Memories of the newborn twins roaring in chorus came flooding back to me.
‘He’s married to the auntie of those Dhillon sisters,’ Zara went on, eager to keep me in conversation. ‘You must have seen them and if you haven’t yet, you will. Geena, Amber and Jazz. Apparently they’re known as the Bindi Babes. They think they’re so great.’
Things clicked into place.
‘Well, maybe they are,’ I said sharply, remembering how one of them had stopped me from, at the very least, killing Celina and Jack that very morning.
Zara shrugged. ‘All right, all right, don’t get your knickers in a twist.’ She grinned at me, and for the first time I noticed that her eyes were a deep sea-green, fringed with long, sweeping lashes. ‘Look how we’re talking! Like friends, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Forget it,’ I said, taking a book from my bag. I fixed my eyes firmly to the first page, ignoring both Henry’s hopeful stares and Zara’s loud tutting in my ear. I would find some ‘normal’ friends, I told myself, if it killed me.
But Zara and Henry were not giving up. Unluckily, they were in all the same sets as me that day, and every lesson became a test of strength, courage and wits as they battled to win the seat next to me. They each had their own advantages. Zara was quick and light on her feet, while Henry had the bulk to block her path. Zara won out in English, by grabbing my arm and yanking me into the seat next to her, narrowly avoiding dislocating my shoulder. But Henry triumphed in the battle of German conversation by getting into the room first and asking the teacher if he could partner me at the computer.
‘Isn’t it funny how losers tend to stick together?’ Celina said lightly as we queued for lunch at the canteen doors. She was ahead of me, but I could hear her perfectly. I knew I was meant to.
Chloe, Danielle and Jyoti sniggered. Henry, who was trying to edge in next to me, blushed. Zara, who was glued to my other side, shrugged.
‘And isn’t it funny how nasty, small-minded airheads tend to stick together too?’ she said thoughtfully.
Celina, Jyoti and Danielle scowled, while Chloe asked plaintively, ‘Who’s she talking about?’
Exactly what I didn’t want to happen was happening before my very eyes. I was being identified with the losers. Quickly I tried to wriggle out of the queue and get away from my ‘friends’, but it was impossible.
‘Will you two stop squashing me?’ I hissed at Henry and Zara. ‘I feel like the meat in a sandwich.’
They ignored me and pressed closer.
‘Sit by me on the bus tonight,’ Zara urged.
‘No, sit by me,’ Henry said breathlessly. ‘I’ll carry your bag for you. You can make it as heavy as you like. I don’t even mind if you put that big atlas in.’
I groaned, knowing that they were going to duel their way across the canteen to get a seat next to me. It would be forks at twenty paces. How could I get away from them?
As it turned out, Jack Browning did me a favour. He ‘accidentally’ knocked into me as we stood at the serving hatch, spilling my cheese omelette, chips and peas onto the floor. By the time I had helped a cross dinner lady clear up, and collected a second plate of food, Zara and Henry were already seated at another table. I ate up and got out of there as fast as I could.
My plan was to disappear round the side of the school towards the playing field, where there were several useful trees to hide behind. But when I glanced round, I saw Henry tracking me furtively across the playground. I stopped and groaned.
‘Look, I can’t put this politely,’ I said. ‘Go away.’
Henry flushed with distress. ‘I just wanted to make sure you were OK.’
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ I snapped. I did feel guilty, though. It was like being angry with an overgrown puppy.
‘I saw what Jack did,’ Henry began.
‘Yes, well, it gave me an excuse to get away from you and Zara,’ I said rudely. ‘Where is Zara, anyway?
’
Henry’s round face broke into a rare smile. ‘One of the dinner ladies asked her to wipe our table. Zara said no, so now she’s got to wipe every table in the canteen.’
That made me smile too, I admit. ‘She’ll be in a great mood this afternoon then.’
‘Does that mean you’ll sit next to me for French and science?’ Henry asked hopefully.
‘No!’ I clutched at my hair. ‘Please, please go away and find someone else to be friends with, Henry.’
Henry stared down at his feet. ‘No one wants to be friends with me,’ he mumbled. ‘Because I’m fat.’
‘Oh, nonsense,’ I said briskly. ‘Are you saying that fat – er – large people don’t have any friends? That’s rubbish.’
Henry raised his eyes and stared at me. ‘Well, why don’t you want to be friends with me then?’
I couldn’t answer. It wasn’t Henry’s size so much as the fact that his bulk and his gentle nature made him a perfect victim. He had latched onto me because I stood up for myself. I didn’t have the energy or the inclination to stand up for him too, and I would have to, if we became friends. Well, that’s the kind of friend I was, anyway.
‘Look, Henry,’ I said, neatly sidestepping his question, ‘maybe you’re a bit too shy and quiet. Don’t let people like Jack boss you around. Try to stand up for yourself.’
‘I can’t,’ Henry mumbled glumly. ‘I’m useless. That’s what my mum says, and she’s right.’
I groaned silently. I was so not the person to deal with somebody else’s self-esteem issues, or whatever they call it on those chat shows. So I was actually pleased to see Zara exit the canteen at that very moment and rush across the playground towards us, her face red with rage.
‘Here’s Zara,’ I said, and whisked myself away out of sight while Henry turned round, looking petrified. I rounded the corner and hid behind a convenient wall. As long as I kept on the move, I could avoid my wannabe ‘friends’.
Home time, and I was exhausted. Zara and Henry were sapping what little energy I had left with their constant stalking. But I was saved from the bloody battle of the bus seat by Mr Arora, who managed to gather together enough energy to ask to speak to me at the end of the day. I watched with relief as Henry and Zara trudged reluctantly out into the playground, and then I returned to classroom 7B. I waited for fifteen minutes, wondering if Mr Arora had forgotten that he’d asked me to wait, but eventually he arrived, clutching a mug of black coffee. I wondered if he’d been having a nap in the staff room.
Sunita’s Secret Page 4
