Zoe was searching in her bag when her mum drove up.
‘Hurry up, Zoe,’ her mum called out the window. ‘Can you help Max with his bag? It looks too heavy for him today.’
Zoe dumped both bags into the car and jumped in behind them. Max dragged his feet over to the car, looking more tired and sad than ever.
‘Max!’ said her mum. ‘Your teeth are chattering! Zoe, what’s wrong with your brother?’
Zoe sighed and shrugged.
Sometimes it was a pain being the big sister. She wanted to talk to her mum about Isabelle, and whether she could have her and Iris over, but now all her mum’s attention was on Max.
By dinnertime, Max’s chill had turned into a fever. By breakfast the next morning, he was covered in spots.
‘Chickenpox!’ said her mum. ‘How are you feeling, Zoe? Any spots?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Zoe, impatiently. ‘I just want to get to school.’
Her mum didn’t seem to notice that Zoe was in a hurry. ‘Go and get dressed then,’ she said calmly. ‘I’ll have to make a few calls before we go anywhere.’
Zoe dressed as quickly as she could while her mum was on the phone. She was just sliding her favourite ladybug hairclips into place when her mum came in.
‘Bad news, Zoe,’ she said. ‘I called Dr Ho to get a medical certificate for my work, so I can take time off to look after Max –’
Zoe nodded.
‘And Dr Ho says you’ll have to stay home, too.’
‘What?’ gasped Zoe. ‘But I’m not even sick! Please, Mum, I have to be there today. Can’t I – ’
‘No,’ said her mum, firmly. ‘You haven’t had chickenpox yet, so there’s about a 90 per cent chance you’ve got it now. Dr Ho says the spots could appear any day.’
‘But couldn’t I go until I get sick?’ asked Zoe.
‘I’m sorry, Zoe. Even though you don’t feel sick yet, you could still pass it on to others. You can’t go to school. And no visitors, either. It’s just you, Dad, me and Max.’
Zoe felt like crying. It was so unfair. She was always missing out. By the time she went back to school, everyone would know Isabelle except for her.
That afternoon, the phone rang while Max and Zoe were on the sofa watching TV.
‘Zoe,’ called her mum. ‘It’s Iris for you.’
Zoe got up slowly. She was surprised to find she was feeling dizzy and cold.
‘Hi, Iris,’ she said.
‘Zoe, you didn’t call me last night. And then I was worried when you didn’t come to school today.’
‘Didn’t Mr Mack tell you? Max has chickenpox, and I probably have it too, so we have to stay home.’
‘For how long?’
‘At least a week.’
‘A week!’ cried Iris. ‘That’s forever.’
‘Or longer,’ said Zoe. ‘We can’t leave the house until our spots scab over.’
‘Scab over? Gross! How many spots do you have?’
‘None yet,’ said Zoe, feeling even worse. ‘Anyway, tell me. How was school? Did you hang out with Isabelle?’
‘Yeah, you’ll never guess – Mr Mack put her at our table. She’s sitting next to me!’
‘Really? What’s she like?’
‘Oh, she’s so funny! You won’t believe what she did! When Mr Campbell came in for computers, Isabelle made this kissing noise, and Ching Ching went bright red in front of everyone!’
Zoe laughed, but she felt a little sad. She wished she could have been there.
‘And then,’ Iris went on, ‘at lunch, Isabelle dared Dylan to sneak out the gates and run to the corner and back.’
‘No way!’ said Zoe.
‘Yep. And Dylan said he wouldn’t, because he and Oscar got in so much trouble last time they snuck out. So Isabelle went herself! And she didn’t run, either. She just walked out, like it was no big deal.’
‘Wow,’ said Zoe, impressed. ‘So Isabelle’s pretty cool, then?’
‘The coolest.’
‘Oh,’ said Zoe, in a small voice. ‘Good.’
The next morning, Zoe woke up hoping she’d feel better. But she felt worse – she was all hot and itchy!
Her mum checked her temperature and sent her straight back to bed.
It took more than a week for Zoe to get over the chickenpox. The spots were terrible – itchy and sore, and she even had some up her nose!
At last they dried up, though, and she could go back to school.
She’d been away for so long, Zoe felt like she was the new girl. Her face was covered in little scabs and she didn’t know what had been going on while she was away. Maybe no-one was into elastics anymore, and she’d look like a loser for wanting to play.
When she arrived at school she saw Iris standing around chatting with Isabelle. Isabelle had her diary out and they were reading through something together.
‘Hi,’ Zoe called, shifting her backpack.
For a tiny fraction of a second, before saying hello, Iris looked at Isabelle, as if she were checking what she should do. It happened so fast, Zoe almost didn’t see it.
Almost.
‘Hi, Zoe,’ Iris said, carefully.
‘Yeah, hi,’ said Isabelle, looking at her watch.
Iris looked uncomfortable.
Finally she said, ‘Um, we’re just finishing this table before the bell rings. I’ll talk to you later, OK?’
Zoe didn’t know what to do. She stood there, feeling every single scab on her face. She was sure that everyone else in the playground was staring at her. She was so embarrassed. She wished she could laugh and pretend it didn’t matter, but it did.
It hurt.
Zoe went to the toilets and looked at her face in the mirror. It must be the chickenpox, she thought. Probably nobody wanted to play with a spotty, scabby girl.
She heard voices behind her, and Ching Ching and Olivia came in. Quickly, Zoe started washing her hands, as though she had just been to the toilet.
‘Hi, Zoe,’ said Ching Ching. ‘I didn’t know you were back today.’
‘Um, hi,’ said Zoe. She wondered if Ching Ching and Olivia could tell how upset she was, and if they had seen what happened on the playground.
‘Hey, you have to talk to Isabelle,’ said Olivia. ‘She’s organised a skipping contest at lunchtime, with proper scores and semis and a grand final and everything. You have to enter!’
‘Oh,’ said Zoe. ‘I don’t have a skipping rope.’
‘No problem,’ said Ching Ching. ‘You can borrow mine.’
‘The bell!’ said Olivia. ‘We’d better hurry. Mr Mack went mental when we were late for class yesterday.’
Zoe was in no hurry. She had been so desperate to come back to school, but now she was here, she wished she were home again.
‘Hey, Zoe,’ said Mr Mack, standing by the door of the classroom. ‘How was the chickenpox? Itchy, I bet.’
‘Yes, Mr Mack,’ said Zoe.
‘Well, you’re back just in time,’ he said. ‘We’re starting a new project today, and it should be really interesting.’
‘OK,’ she said, not really listening.
They walked into the classroom, and Zoe looked at the desk where she normally sat. Iris and Isabelle were already there, getting their pens and pencils out and giggling about something.
Zoe took a deep breath and went to sit with them. She didn’t say anything – she felt too shy.
This is crazy, she thought. How can I be feeling shy in front of my own best friend?
She hoped that Iris would say something so that everything could go back to normal, but Iris just gave her a little smile when Isabelle wasn’t looking.
‘Good morning, all,’ said Mr Mack. ‘Did anyone not do last night’s homework?’
Mr Mack walked around the room, collecting assignments.
‘It’s OK, Zoe,’ he said as he took Iris and Isabelle’s work. ‘I know you haven’t done this one. So,’ he said to the rest of the class, ‘I’m going to start marking these at my desk
while you do the maths problems I’ve written out on these worksheets.’
Everyone groaned.
‘What?’ asked Mr Mack, pretending to be surprised. ‘What’s this I hear? Is my class telling me they want more worksheets? Are they complaining I haven’t given them enough maths problems? OK, then. Get on with what I’ve given you. And no group discussion. That means you, Oscar Morgan. If you have a question, raise your hand. Otherwise I want silence.’
Usually Zoe hated starting off with silent work, but today she was glad to put her head down and not have to talk to anyone. She didn’t want to even look at Iris or Isabelle until they said something nice to her. She hoped she wouldn’t have to wait long.
When the bell went for recess, most of the girls gathered around Isabelle.
‘Who’s in the first round today?’ asked Lily.
Isabelle pulled out her school diary and opened it to a page of complicatedlooking tables.
‘Let’s see,’ she said. ‘We’re up to round two. Lily, you’ll be skipping against Ching Ching and Holly. And then Iris, Olivia and Aysha will be in round three at lunchtime.’
Zoe hadn’t said anything to Isabelle yet. All morning, she had kept her eyes on her work and tried not to notice when Iris and Isabelle whispered to one another. Now, without knowing how she managed to be so brave, she spoke up.
‘Can I be in the competition, too?’ Zoe asked.
Isabelle looked at her.
‘No,’ she said. ‘We had the qualifying rounds while you were away. Now we’ve already begun, it wouldn’t really be fair to let you enter in round four or five.’
‘But I had chickenpox!’ said Zoe.
She couldn’t believe her ears.
‘Well, we have to be fair,’ said Isabelle. ‘It’s not a real contest unless you stick to the rules.’
‘I see,’ said Zoe, in a tiny voice.
‘Hey, but Zoe could help us judge,’ Iris said to Isabelle. ‘Couldn’t she?’
Isabelle thought for a minute and then shook her head.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, without sounding sorry at all. ‘But only girls who are part of the competition are allowed to judge.’
Zoe felt small and unwanted.
How embarrassing. And in front of all the other girls! Now everyone knew that she had been left out.
Zoe wanted to cry, or better still, to disappear forever. But the bell had rung and Mr Mack was waiting in the hallway to lock the classroom door behind them.
Zoe got her playlunch out of her bag and somehow managed to walk out to the playground without bursting into tears. She saw Iris by herself, peeling a mandarin beside the bin.
Now’s my chance, she thought. I’ll go and ask Iris if I’ve done something wrong.
She hurried over and said in a quiet, uncertain voice, ‘Hi, Iris.’
‘Oh, Zoe,’ said Iris, smiling. ‘How are you? I’ve been wanting to talk to you all day.’
‘Have you?’ said Zoe, feeling relieved. ‘I thought nobody liked me anymore.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Iris. ‘That’s not true.’
‘What’s not true?’
Iris and Zoe spun around to see Isabelle standing there.
‘Nothing,’ said Zoe. ‘I was just talking to Iris.’
‘Well, Iris can’t stand around talking,’ said Isabelle in a bossy voice. ‘She needs to come with me and help judge round two of the contest.’
‘But Zoe can come and watch, can’t she?’ asked Iris.
Isabelle looked at Zoe thoughtfully.
‘I don’t want to sound mean or anything,’ she said. ‘But your scabs are kind of icky. Maybe you could go and play with someone else instead.’
Zoe was so shocked she couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Nobody had ever said anything so cruel to her in her life.
She was still standing there when Isabelle turned and began to walk away.
‘Come on, Iris,’ said Isabelle. ‘We won’t get through round two if we don’t hurry up. We can’t keep wasting time like this.’
Iris looked as shocked as Zoe felt. Iris was about to say something when Isabelle called out loudly, ‘Iris!’
Iris gave Zoe a sad, guilty look, and turned to follow Isabelle.
This must be a nightmare, thought Zoe. This can’t be real. This is my school. These are my friends. Why am I the one being left out?
She saw the other girls lined up for the competition. Some of them had skipping ropes, others had paper for writing down the scores. They looked so far away, like they were all part of another world.
Zoe knew that she couldn’t go over now – she didn’t even know if she wanted to anymore. And Isabelle had made it quite clear that she wasn’t welcome.
Zoe didn’t know what to do, but she didn’t want to stand there on her own.
She knew the boys would let her play with them if she asked. They were running around with a football, yelling and cheering. It would take a lot of energy to join in their game, though, and Zoe didn’t have any energy now. It felt like Isabelle’s nasty comments had drained all the life out of her.
‘Hello there, Zoe,’ said Mrs Delano, walking by on playground duty. ‘First day back since the chickenpox, isn’t it?’
Zoe nodded.
‘You still look a bit peaky, actually. Do you feel all right?’
No, I don’t, thought Zoe. I feel terrible!
She didn’t say anything, though. She thought she might cry if she tried to speak. Instead, she shook her head.
‘Why don’t I take you to the sick bay?’ said Mrs Delano, kindly. ‘You can have a little lie down until you feel better.’
Normally, Zoe thought the sick bay was boring. It was the smallest, ugliest room in the school. There were no pictures to look at, no books to read, and nothing to do but lie there.
On any other day, Zoe would have done anything to get out of there, but right now it felt safe and cosy.
Every now and then, Ms Kyle would come in and ask, ‘Are you feeling any better? Shall I call your mum?’
Each time, Zoe shook her head. She wasn’t feeling better, but she couldn’t call her mum, either. She knew her mum couldn’t take any more time off work.
Zoe was stuck at school. Eventually, the bell rang. She gave a huge sigh and went back to class.
It seemed like a miracle to Zoe that she made it through the whole day without crying. She concentrated as hard as she could on her work, hoping it would block out all her unhappy thoughts, and somehow she survived until the home bell rang.
By the time she got home and changed out of her clothes, she was feeling angry as well as sad. And it wasn’t Isabelle she was most angry at. It was Iris!
She decided to call her.
Iris answered the phone straight away.
‘Hello? This is Iris.’
‘Hello, Iris,’ said Zoe.
‘Zoe! Hi –’
Zoe interrupted her. She didn’t want to hear what Iris was going to say. She just wanted to know one thing.
‘Why didn’t you stick up for me at school? You’re supposed to be my best friend, but you didn’t even talk to me!’
There was a silence, and then Iris said, ‘I’m sorry, Zoe. I am still your friend, but now I’m Isabelle’s friend, too.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘When you were away,’ said Iris, ‘I had no-one to play with. And Isabelle had noone either, so we ended up playing together.’
‘Right,’ said Zoe. ‘So?’
‘Well, now you’re back, and you have lots of other friends you can play with. Lots of people know you, but Isabelle has only me. Isabelle really needs me, Zoe. More than you do.’
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Zoe. ‘It doesn’t make sense. Why can’t you play with me and Isabelle at the same time?’
‘You wouldn’t understand,’ said Iris. ‘It’s really hard for Isabelle, being new. She says she needs me all to herself until she settles in.’
So that’s it, though
t Zoe, when she hung up the phone. Now Isabelle is Iris’s best friend, and there’s no room for me.
The next day at school, Zoe watched Iris and Isabelle stand together while everyone crowded around them to talk about the skipping contest. Iris looked happy about being so popular and important. Isabelle chewed the end of her hair and ticked things off in her diary.
Nobody noticed Zoe standing by herself, watching. They were all too excited about the contest. Everyone wanted to be in it, and that meant there was no-one left over for Zoe to hang out with. Even Lily, who hated sport, had brought her own skipping rope to school.
All recess and all lunch, and any time they could squeeze in before school or before the bus came to take them home, all anyone wanted to do was skip. And in class, when people passed notes or whispered to one another, it was skipping they were talking about.
It was the biggest craze Zoe had ever seen, and she was completely left out of it.
And worse than all that, her best friend was now best friends with the meanest, nastiest girl in the whole school.
All in all, it was the most horrible week at school Zoe could remember.
On Tuesday, Zoe visited Max in the kindy playground.
On Wednesday, she went back to the sick bay at recess and lunch and pretended to have a headache.
On Thursday, she went to the library at recess. At lunch, though, the library was closed because the librarian had to go to the dentist. So Zoe went back to the sick bay.
I can’t believe how things have turned out, she thought, as she lay back on the cold bed. How did I end up being so unpopular? Why does everyone like Isabelle better than me?
When the bell rang for class, Zoe panicked.
I’m not ready to see Isabelle again, she thought.
Then she tried to encourage herself. Come on, Zoe. It’s art class this afternoon – your favourite.
She straggled into class behind everyone else and saw that Mr Mack had put out pots of paint and paintbrushes.
School Spirit Page 6
