School Spirit

by Meredith Badger

  ‘Today,’ said Mr Mack, ‘we won’t be painting people or other ordinary things. Instead, I want you to paint feelings.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Dylan. ‘Like painting a sad face or a happy face?’

  ‘No. I mean, if you felt really happy, for example, what colour would that be? Or what shape might you paint to show anger? Or excitement?’

  There was some mumbling among the class, but Zoe knew exactly what Mr Mack meant. And she knew exactly what she was going to paint.

  Just before the home bell rang, Mr Mack asked them to finish their paintings and hang them up to dry. As each kid pegged up their work, Mr Mack talked to them about what they had painted.

  ‘Wonderful,’ he said to Holly. ‘Everyone, look at how Holly has used pink circles, one inside the other, to show love. It’s like lots of hugs at once. Oh, and that’s terrific, Oscar. Jagged black and red lightning bolts. Anger, right?’

  Zoe brought her painting up.

  ‘Zoe, this is beautiful. All different shades of blue and purple, like deep water or a stormy sky. What is it? Sadness?’

  ‘No,’ said Zoe, very, very quietly, so no-one would hear her. ‘It’s loneliness.’

  Mr Mack was silent for a moment, and then he said, ‘Thank you, Zoe. It’s marvellous. I can see just what you feel.’

  These days, Zoe was glad she didn’t catch the bus with the rest of her class. It suited her perfectly to sit in the back of the car and stare out the window as they drove home.

  That afternoon, Max told their mum a long story about what he did on the monkey bars at lunch. It lasted the whole trip, and Zoe didn’t have to say one word.

  When they got home, Zoe dragged her backpack out of the car and shuffled her way up the steps of the house.

  ‘You OK, Zoe?’ said her mum. ‘You’re extra quiet this afternoon.’

  Zoe shrugged.

  ‘She’s in a bad mood,’ said Max. ‘She wouldn’t talk to me while we were waiting for you. She’s always in a bad mood. A moo-oo-oo-ood! A moo-oo-oo – OW!’

  ‘Zoe!’ said her mum. ‘Don’t you dare hit your brother! What kind of behaviour is that? Say sorry immediately.’

  Without warning, all of the bad feelings of the week suddenly washed over Zoe. She was sick and tired of being left out and feeling unloved and having people be mean to her.

  ‘I’m not sorry!’ she yelled. ‘He should be sorry, not me! I’m not in a bad mood!’

  ‘Zoe, you go to your room right now before I give you something to really be sorry for!’

  ‘Yeah, Zoe,’ said Max, rubbing his arm. ‘You’re a meanie.’

  ‘I hate you!’ Zoe screamed at him.

  ‘Zoe!’ shouted her mum. ‘Go now!’

  Zoe burst into tears and ran to her room. She lay down on her bed and cried and cried. She had stopped herself from crying so many times at school, it was a relief to be able to cry out loud at last.

  After a while, the tears slowed down, and she started to think about school.

  How was she possibly going to survive another day? She couldn’t, it was as simple as that. She would just have to tell her mum she wasn’t going back.

  That evening, Zoe had dinner in her room. She refused to say sorry to Max for hitting him, and her mum said she had to stay in her room until she did. Zoe didn’t care.

  She was better off on her own. She was even starting to get used to it. She was on her own all day at school, and then on her own at home. One day she’d vanish for good, and nobody would even notice.

  ‘Zoe?’

  It was her dad, home from work and tapping on her door. Zoe sat up on her bed.

  ‘Mum said you had a row with Max this afternoon.’

  Zoe sighed. Here we go, she thought.

  Her dad sat on the end of her bed.

  ‘This isn’t like you, Zoe,’ he said. ‘You don’t usually hit or shout, and you don’t usually say you’re not sorry. Mum says there’s some trouble at school.’

  Zoe nodded.

  ‘Is it Iris?’ asked her dad.

  ‘Sort of. Iris didn’t start it, but she didn’t stick up for me, either, so I’m mad with her, too.’

  ‘Start what? What’s been happening?’

  ‘There’s a new girl at school called Isabelle. She’s horrible, and she hates me, and now I hate her.’

  ‘You hate her?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ said Zoe. ‘She’s a bully. I wish I could pay her back for how mean she’s been to me.’

  Zoe went on to tell him everything that had happened at school.

  ‘Yes, I see,’ said her dad. ‘You must be really angry with Iris and Isabelle.’

  ‘I am,’ said Zoe.

  ‘Isabelle really hurt your feelings.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Zoe. ‘Exactly.’

  Phew, she thought. At least Dad understands.

  ‘Hmm,’ said her dad.

  ‘What do you think I should do?’ asked Zoe. ‘How can I make her sorry for what she’s done to me?’

  ‘That’s a good question. There are two ways you can handle this Isabelle,’ said her dad. ‘The first way is to spend lots of time brooding about how much you hate her and thinking up ways to hurt her feelings the way she has hurt yours.’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Zoe, eagerly. ‘I could make her feel stupid in front of everyone.’

  ‘Yes, you could,’ said her dad. ‘But then, on the other hand, that might just make her angry. And if you do get her back and make her feel bad – well, aren’t you being just as big a bully as she is?’

  ‘No!’ said Zoe. ‘How am I a bully if she started it in the first place? Doesn’t it serve her right?’

  ‘Maybe it does,’ said her dad. ‘But I’m not really thinking about what Isabelle deserves. I’m thinking about you. And I don’t think you’re the kind of girl who enjoys being cruel.’

  Zoe wasn’t sure her dad was right. She had been imagining some great ways of making Isabelle cry in front of the whole school. It had been the only fun thing she’d done all week.

  ‘I like the first idea,’ she said. ‘But tell me anyway – what’s the other way?’

  ‘The second way,’ said her dad, ‘is to stand tall. You don’t stoop to her level, and you don’t fight back. You stand tall and act with pride, because in the long run, a bully will trip herself up. The other kids will see soon enough who is the better friend.’

  ‘That’s it?’ said Zoe, unimpressed. ‘That’s my secret plan? To be nice? I just hang around waiting for Isabelle to get bored of being mean?’

  ‘Yep,’ said her dad. ‘It won’t be easy, though.’

  ‘No kidding,’ said Zoe. ‘I don’t think it will work at all.’

  ‘Oh, it will work. Don’t worry about that. You might not think so, but being kind and treating people with respect is very powerful.’

  Zoe looked at her dad. He looked completely serious. He wasn’t joking.

  ‘I don’t think I can do it, Dad,’ she said, at last. ‘I’m so angry with her, I don’t want to be kind.’

  ‘I know,’ said her dad, kissing her. ‘But you’re a terrific kid, Zoe. You’ll do the right thing. Now come outside, say sorry to your brother and you can have some dessert.’

  The next day was Friday, and Zoe tried hard to remember what her dad had said. She tried to think calm, kind thoughts. She imagined Isabelle’s mean comments just pinging off her, as if she were bulletproof.

  Sticks and stones, she thought. Words can never hurt me.

  But when she saw Isabelle standing in a group with Iris, her heart skipped a beat and she felt afraid.

  Nobody will be on my side, she thought. They all want to be Isabelle’s friend. What’s the point of standing tall if you still end up with no-one to play with?

  She bit her lip and walked toward them.

  Oh, well, she thought. Here goes nothing…

  ‘Hi, Iris,’ she said. ‘Hi, Isabelle.’

  ‘Hi, Zoe,’ said Iris, smiling.

  ‘Iris, we have to or
ganise the skipping semi-finals at recess,’ said Isabelle, as if she hadn’t heard Zoe speak.

  ‘How is the contest going?’ asked Zoe, determined to be friendly.

  ‘Look, Zoe,’ said Isabelle. ‘Iris and I are very busy. Please don’t interrupt our conversation again.’

  Zoe gasped. How could she keep on being nice to such a mean girl? Her dad wanted her to stand tall, but Zoe felt as though she were shrinking inside.

  That lunchtime, some of the girls who had dropped out of Isabelle’s contest got bored of sitting around watching other people skip. For the first time in ages, there were other girls to play with and other games to play. Zoe played handball with Lily, Holly, Aysha, Ching Ching and Olivia.

  Zoe was glad she had people to play with, and glad that Isabelle couldn’t stop everyone from being friends with her. But she still missed Iris. Even though she was mad with Iris for liking Isabelle more than her, Zoe still wanted to be friends with her. It just wasn’t the same playing with others.

  As she was thinking about this and eating her lunch, Holly asked her, ‘How come you don’t play with Iris anymore? Did you have a fight?’

  Zoe didn’t know what to say. Her dad wanted her to stand tall, but it would be so easy right now to tell Holly how horrible she thought Isabelle was and how dumb she thought Iris was being. She hadn’t yet decided what to say when Holly nodded and said, ‘It’s that Isabelle, isn’t it? You know, I think she’s a bully.’

  Just then, Ching Ching howled in frustration. She had missed an easy shot in handball while she was in dunce. She left the square and let Olivia take her place, and sat down next to Zoe.

  ‘Are you talking about Isabelle?’ Ching Ching asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Holly.

  ‘She’s such bad news,’ said Ching Ching. ‘You know, she even told me I should stop being friends with Olivia if I wanted to play with her. Can you believe it?’

  ‘What did you say?’ asked Zoe.

  ‘Huh! I told her to get lost. Who cares about skipping, anyway?’

  Dad was right, thought Zoe. Isabelle is starting to trip up.

  After lunch, in the last period before the weekend, Mr Mack said, ‘Poetry now! I want each of you to spend some time looking at the painting you did yesterday. Then, when you’re ready, we’re going to write poems about those feelings.’

  Zoe looked up at the wall where her painting had been pinned. It was next to Isabelle’s. Isabelle had painted a black and grey cloud, and Zoe wondered what it meant. Maybe Isabelle’s feeling was hate – maybe she had painted how she felt about Zoe! That was a scary thought, and Zoe quickly went back to her own painting.

  After a couple of minutes, she started to write her poem.

  ‘OK,’ said Mr Mack. ‘The bell is about to ring. When you’ve finished your poems, pack up your things quietly, and please hand in your work on your way out. I’m very interested to see what each of you has written.’

  Zoe was very interested, too. Although she knew Isabelle would hate her to peek, she glanced over to see what Isabelle had written. It was a long poem with lots of crossing out in tiny, neat writing. It was difficult to read upside-down. Zoe could only read the title.

  It was called ‘Homesickness’.

  Oh! thought Zoe. Isabelle’s homesick? I never would have guessed!

  ‘What are you looking at?’ Isabelle asked. She must have been chewing her hair again, because the end of her ponytail was soggy.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Zoe, looking away.

  ‘Good. You should mind your own business.’

  She might be homesick, thought Zoe. But she’s still mean.

  She went out to the locker room to pack her bag for home. She thought she’d got everything and was halfway across the playground to meet up with Max and her mum, when she remembered that she had left her diary behind. She’d have to go back and get it.

  She ran back into the locker room, trying to hurry so she didn’t keep her mum waiting. She was in such a hurry, she didn’t notice at first that she wasn’t alone.

  There was someone else in the room.

  Oh no! thought Zoe. Isabelle! Well, I won’t say anything to her, and she will hopefully leave me alone, too.

  But then she heard something amazing.

  Isabelle was crying.

  What should Zoe do? Should she pretend she couldn’t hear Isabelle crying? What would she say, anyway?

  Then Zoe had an idea. I could show her what it’s like, she thought. I could say,‘What a crybaby you’ve turned out to be!’

  After a whole week of being picked on, Zoe felt like it would be nice to pay Isabelle back a bit …

  But she knew her dad was right.

  Although it was fun to imagine, Zoe didn’t think she could really say any of the things she was thinking. Zoe didn’t like seeing people hurt or upset. To her surprise, that even included Isabelle. She stood awkwardly for a while and then went over to Isabelle’s locker.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she said.

  ‘Go away!’ said Isabelle, sniffing.

  It was hard to be scared of her, though, when she sounded so sad. Zoe took a deep breath and stood as tall as she could. She was about to try something brave, and she wasn’t sure how it would turn out.

  ‘I’m sorry you’re unhappy,’ she said. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  Isabelle looked at her in surprise.

  ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ she asked.

  Zoe shrugged.

  ‘I hate it here,’ Isabelle blurted out. ‘I miss my old school, and nobody here cares about me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Zoe, amazed. ‘Everyone here is your friend.’ She took another deep breath. ‘Even I would be, if you let me,’ she added.

  ‘You! Why would you want to be my friend?’

  It was hard to come up with a good answer straight away. Honestly, Zoe wasn’t 100 per cent sure she really did want to be Isabelle’s friend right now. But then she thought about what school had been like before Isabelle came, when everyone got on.

  ‘It’s better if we’re all friends, don’t you think?’ she said, at last. ‘No-one should be left out.’

  Isabelle blinked and sniffed. Then she stuck out her chin and said, ‘Are you going to tell everyone you saw me cry?’

  ‘Of course not!’ said Zoe.‘I would never do that.’

  ‘Well, OK, then,’ said Isabelle, smiling very slightly.

  Zoe thought it was the first real smile she had seen on Isabelle’s face.

  ‘So,’ said Zoe. ‘Friends?’

  Isabelle nodded. A tiny nod, but a nod all the same. Zoe was relieved.

  ‘I’ll see you on Monday,’ said Isabelle. ‘I’d better go. My mum’s probably waiting for me.’

  ‘Oh no!’ said Zoe, grabbing her diary. ‘I forgot! My mum’s waiting too!’

  She waved goodbye and started to run back to meet Max and her mum. She had just left the locker room and started sprinting for the stairs when she heard Mr Mack call her name behind her.

  Uh-oh, thought Zoe. Caught running in the hallway.

  But Mr Mack was not cross with her.

  ‘I heard all that,’ he said, as Zoe walked back to him. ‘Your conversation with Isabelle, I mean. The last couple of days have been hard for you, haven’t they?’

  Zoe shrugged, embarrassed. She didn’t think anyone had noticed.

  ‘But still you were kind to Isabelle just then. You could have left her feeling miserable, but instead you made a new friend. I’m proud of you, Zoe.’

  Zoe was so pleased, she didn’t know what to say. She blushed and then said, awkwardly, ‘Um, thanks. I’ve got to go. Mum’s waiting in the car.’

  ‘Off you go, then,’ said Mr Mack. ‘Have a good weekend!’

  Zoe ran through the school as fast as her legs could carry her.

  This is still my place, she thought. I still belong here. And I did it! Wait till I tell Dad. I stood tall!

  That evening, Iris called Zoe.

  ‘
Um, Zoe? It’s Iris.’

  ‘Hi, Iris,’ said Zoe, carefully.

  ‘I just spoke to Isabelle …’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘She said you were really nice to her, and she felt bad about how mean she’s been to you.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ said Zoe, wondering what was going on.

  ‘I’m really sorry too,’ said Iris. ‘I got all caught up in being friends with Isabelle and I pretended I didn’t notice how horrible she was to you. I was a bad friend, and I don’t blame you if you’re mad with me.’

  The funny thing was, even though Zoe had been very angry with Iris, as soon as she said she was sorry, Zoe forgave her entirely. She just wanted to be friends again.

  ‘I really missed you, Zoe.’

  ‘I missed you, too,’ said Zoe.

  Next Monday morning, Zoe felt nervous and excited at the same time. What if Isabelle had changed her mind over the weekend and decided to keep on being mean to Zoe?

  There was only one way to find out, but Zoe couldn’t stand the suspense.

  As her mum pulled up outside the school gates, Zoe could see Iris and Isabelle sitting together on a bench, talking. Zoe bit her nails nervously.

  ‘Are you getting out?’ asked her mum.

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Zoe.

  Oh well, she thought. I can always go back to the sick bay.

  She picked up her bag and got out of the car. She walked over to the others. Isabelle was chewing her hair, looking like she was waiting for something bad to happen. When she saw Zoe, she gave a little jump and then stood up.

  ‘Hi, Zoe,’ she said shyly. ‘Um, I have something for you. I made it with my mum yesterday.’

  As Isabelle went to her bag, Zoe looked at Iris. Iris smiled, but didn’t say anything. Isabelle brought out a plastic lunchbox and handed it to Zoe.

  ‘Here,’ she said.

  Zoe pulled off the lid. Inside was a square cake, about the size of a very fat sandwich. It had thick chocolate icing with ‘SORRY, ZOE’ spelt out across the top in tiny, blue sugar stars.