Wasim One Star

by Chris Ashley

  Wasim ONE - STAR

  Chris Ashley

  Illustrated by Kate Pankhurst

  Wasim One-Star copyright © Frances Lincoln Limited 2007 Text copyright © Chris Ashley 1997, 2007 Illustrations copyright © Kate Pankhurst 2007

  The story was first published in Great Britain in 1997 by Random House Children’s Books under the title Wasim in the Deep End

  Published in Great Britain in 2007 and in the USA in 2008 by Frances Lincoln Children’s Books, 4 Torriano Mews, Torriano Avenue, London NW5 2RZ

  www.franceslincoln.com

  This paperback edition first published in 2007

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electrical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher or a licence permitting restricted copying. In the United Kingdom such licences are issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, Saffron House, 6-10 Kirby Street, London EC1N 8TS.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN: 978-1-84780-108-1

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-90766-696-4

  Printed in Croydon, Surrey, UK by CPI Bookmarque in May 2010

  1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  About the Author

  For Lettie, in loving memory

  Chapter One

  Wasim had to be first.

  “Oy, Wasim! Wasim! Miss, he’s knocked my graph off the wall.”

  Wasim, first at the door and staring like a guardsman at 110 cm on the height chart, spun round as fast as his bulging United rucksack would let him.

  “Tell him, Miss.”

  Wasim had to be first whenever there was a line, but today was special. Today was swimming day – the last swimming day.

  Today Wasim really had to be first and somebody, Ben Perry it sounded like, was trying to ruin it by getting him done. Wasim would get sent to the back and time would be wasted.

  The last swimming day, free time for most groups and for Wasim’s group, the splash group, the chance to do their One Star. From the steps at the deep end to the steps at the shallow end, twenty-five metres. And then on Friday there’d be Mr Abbott in the sharing assembly, doing his television voice while he gave out the certificate. “Wasim Ahmed,” he’d say. “You’re a star.”

  A One Star, that was what it was, a big red star on your certificate.

  Twenty-five metres – gulping, spluttering, no armbands – a red star on a piece of card. One Star.

  There was a sharp dig in Wasim’s back. Ben was trying once again.

  “Miss?”

  “Oh, just be sensible for one minute,” Mrs Scott snapped.

  Wasim couldn’t believe his luck and he turned back to the height chart. Miss was still busy with the dinner money.

  “But, Miss, he’s pushed in and knocked –”

  “Ben, I am busy!”

  Wasim stared even harder at the height chart and waited until his senses told him that Mrs Scott had turned back to the pile of Monday money on her desk. Then he allowed himself the flare of his nostrils and the “Sss… sss… sss,” that would send Ben barmy.

  “Miss! He’s laughing, Miss.

  Just because –”

  Mrs Scott finally bashed the Tuppaware container they all called the money tin on to the table.

  “OK, Ben,” she was saying in a whisper that sounded louder than one of Mr Abbott’s shouts. “Since you have such a problem with Wasim you had better go and be Neil’s partner. Go on.”

  Wasim gave a secret flare of his nostrils. Neil was nowhere near the front. A scowling Ben began pushing his way back.

  “And er, Wayne, you go up with Wasim.”

  Mrs Scott paused and then said it more carefully.

  “Wayne, you go with Wasim.”

  But Wasim was going to sort it out.

  Wayne Ho was new. He was new to the school and new to the country. He didn’t speak much English yet and Wasim knew what it was like when you had different words for things at home.

  He knew what it was like when the only school word you knew was Miss. What you needed was someone like him, Wasim, to help you out. He barged back down the line, accidentally brushing two graphs on to the floor with his rucksack, and pulled Wayne up to the front.

  “Oy, Wasim!”

  “Ahmed!”

  But they were only breathing it now because Miss was looking down at the money and they were late already.

  Wasim stood at attention again and waited. He nudged Wayne until the new boy stood at attention too. Then he stared again at 110 cm and thought about his One Star. Twenty-five metres and no armbands!

  Chapter Two

  Finally, Junior S got away.

  Mrs Scott had seen the graphs and looked at Wasim, her eyes never leaving his while she bent down, picked them up and put them silently on to the bookshelf next to the display.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll pick them up,” she said. Which meant that somebody else should have.

  “Miss, it wasn’t –”

  But Mrs Scott didn’t say any more and that told Wasim to stop. He’d have to show that he was a particularly good leader on the walk, though. Especially when it came to not following Miss into the road. Nicola Harris had forgotten last week and not waited for the signal to follow.

  “Stop there! How many times …?”

  Mrs Scott had shouted. She didn’t shout often, but she did when it came to roads. Even at Nicola Harris.

  Wasim led them in silence down past the assembly and allowed himself a glance through the hall door at the piano where the certificates would be piled.

  Then he walked importantly on. He smiled at Wayne. Things were going well.

  He did his special walk under the subway. It was fast but you didn’t run, and at each kerb he put a hand out to stop Wayne and sensibly waited for Mrs Scott, who seemed a bit out of breath.

  “Wayne’s not your real name, is it?” Samantha Waterworth shouted from behind. “Doesn’t sound right with Ho, and when you’re Chinese or Japanese …”

  “Hong Kong he comes from, don’t you, Wayne?” Gemma came right up beside them. “Miss said so.”

  Wasim pushed her back into her place. It was his job to talk to Wayne.

  “Shut up, Waterworth,” he said.

  “You shut up, Wasim. Miss!”

  But Mrs Scott was still puffing to keep up with Wasim’s special walk and she pretended not to hear. Wasim quickly got chatting before she changed her mind.

  “Are you in our group – splash group?”

  Wayne just smiled, friendly. He didn’t say a lot.

  Wasim tried it in his own home words, Urdu, whispering in case Gemma took the mickey out of it. But Wayne just smiled again.

  “D’you have armbands? You’ll be with us.”

  Wayne looked puzzled, so Wasim mimed armbands and followed Mrs Scott into the road.

  “Wasim Ahmed!”

  Wasim jumped and scuttled back to Wayne on the pavement, saying, “So?” before Gemma had a chance to say anything. He pushed his glasses up and finally allowed himself to meet Mrs Scott’s glare.

  “Do not step off the pavement until I signal. Is that clear?”

  “Miss!”

  Of course it was clear, he was the best in the class at knowing that. “So?” he hissed at no one in particular.

  Wasim felt somebody laughing behind him, but Mrs Scott was
still looking at him and they were crossing the road now which meant he couldn’t do anything anyway. So for the last few streets Wasim just thought about the steps, the steps up at the deep end. The rough plastic on the soles of his feet, the slow cool that would spread up his legs as he went down and then make his chest stop thumping as it spread over his tummy.

  Then there would be the terrible moment when John the swimming teacher made him let go. He’d feel nothingness under his feet and then the cool would become cold and move up to his throat and his mouth would start gasping and his legs would start wriggling and … and that was all he knew. Last time that had been all there was to it. Wasim had stopped going down and suddenly felt as if he was flying. Well he was in a way, he was floating. He’d had armbands on but straight away Andrew Foster had jumped in behind him and told him to shove up. So he’d wriggled and gulped and spluttered up to the shallow end. “Miss!” he’d shouted when he got there. And Mrs Scott had put her hands above her head and clapped. That was last time!

  A warm smell of feet hit Wasim and he put a hand out to stop Wayne. That was the swimming smell.

  One more corner. Now Wasim’s stomach started turning again. What if he didn’t float? What if his legs didn’t start kicking and he didn’t start reaching and pulling like John and Dad kept telling him? What if he didn’t do it and had to grab the pole before he got to the shallow steps?

  “Oy, Wasim, move it. What you stopped for?” and there was a push as the line came to a spluttering halt and Wayne was bundled into him. What if he didn’t do it?

  “Ahmed!” came another shout.

  Wasim began to walk again and found that his mouth was too dry even to tell Gemma to shut up. He’d do it… wouldn’t he? Twenty-five metres. No armbands.

  Chapter Three

  The big glass doors opened and the smell of feet, Dettol and chloreysomething filled Wasim’s head and got mixed up with shouts half echoed and then lost in distant splashes. Blue glittered and danced on the ceiling, teasing the children about what they would see behind the big window as soon as Mrs Scott had finished signing them in. Wasim had to put his hands in his pockets to stop himself from pushing her, but finally they were in.

  “First look!” Wasim had spun round to say it and there it was, the pool – blue and beautiful and long, very long. One Star long.

  “Second!” said Samantha.

  “First worst!” shouted Gemma. But it wasn’t being nasty, they were all too happy.

  Wasim wanted to be first into the Boys, to get the best peg next to the warm door, but Wayne had walked on and was following Gemma and Samantha. Some of the boys, crushing through their door, started laughing.

  “Wayne’s going into the Girls!” they cried and tried those whistles where you put your fingers into your mouth.

  Wasim would miss the warm peg. He thought for a second but then he elbowed his way out.

  Wayne needed him, he remembered, and being first wouldn’t matter today, not One Star day. He rushed up the corridor.

  “Wayne, Wayne!” The shouts bounced off the tiles and the hot chocolate machine.

  “Do not shout in my pool!”

  Everyone froze. It was Carol, the other swimming teacher, the younger one, coming out of her room. The girls all said they liked her – but that was just because she looked like Lara Croft. She just screamed at everyone all the time and Wasim was really glad that she didn’t take the splash group.

  She glared down at Wasim.

  “Do you behave like that all the time? I’d hate to live in your house.”

  Carol made it sound as if living in Wasim’s house would be the worst thing in the world and he wasn’t sure that it was just because of his shouting.

  “Problem?” Mrs Scott was there and Wasim felt safe again, just like he always did in school.

  “Miss, M …” Wasim couldn’t explain quickly enough.

  “Miss, Wayne was going into the Girls,” Nicola said.

  “Oh, he’s never been to the baths before. Come on, Wayne.”

  Carol glared at Wasim and he could tell she was cross that Miss hadn’t joined in telling him off. She banged through the swing door and the splashes and shouts that came through from the pool hit Wasim like a great wave.

  “Miss, what group is Wayne in?” Gemma asked, still giggling.

  “Non-swimmers,” replied Mrs Scott. “We’ve sorted this all out with Mum, haven’t we, Wayne?”

  Wayne smiled.

  “Wayne’s in the non-swimmers.”

  “But what if he can swim his Three Star or the Bronze or something, Miss?”

  “It doesn’t matter if you can swim to the moon. Until I see you swim, you’re a non-swimmer and you stay in the shallow end.”

  The girls giggled going through their red door and Mrs Scott turned to Wasim.

  “Stay with him, Wasim. Splash group, is that clear?”

  “Miss.”

  Wasim felt tall and excited again now. He put an arm around Wayne to lead him into the Boys and gave him a thumbs up. Wayne gave one back. That seemed to work.

  Wasim wouldn’t have got the best peg anyway. A group from the High School were in and all the boys from Wasim’s class were getting changed in silence, just listening to the big ones and keeping out of their way. The older ones had hold of one kid’s trunks and were throwing them around.

  Wasim nodded at a peg and he and Wayne got changed quickly, ducking whenever the wet trunks were thrown near them.

  “Quick as you can, lads.” John came in from the pool. The High School kids pretended to get dressed sensibly and the boy who owned the trunks went and picked them up as if it were his fault they were on the floor. The swimming teacher must have known something was going on because he stayed, arms folded, foot tapping. The relieved Junior S boys got changed at double speed and skidded under his towering figure. Then it was up the steps, through the footbath and the freezing showers, and on to the poolside.

  Wasim was third ready. Not bad considering. But he waited for Wayne. He showed his new friend how to dodge the shower spray and then he too was on the poolside.

  He blanked out the noises and splashes, and shivered. It was not just that a few drops of the shower had hit him, it was also because he was looking at the two sets of steps. He’d seen them a hundred times before but never like today. Never when they meant so much. Never when he would have to grab that round, glittering steel, watch his face turn into funny shapes on its shiny surface and then let himself drop into the blue. Never when getting between the steps up near the Girls and the steps at the shallow end meant everything. “Wasim Ahmed … You’re a star.” That would be Friday. Wasim hugged himself.

  He’d do it, he’d do it. And then the whistle blew.

  “Right, Splash group, yes? You’ve got me today. John’s with the High School.”

  Oh no, Wasim thought. Not Carol.

  Not Carol for his One Star.

  Chapter Four

  “Do not run!”

  There were nine of them left once the Two Star, Three Star and Bronze groups had walked off with their floats for free time. The nine were non-swimmers … until today. By the end of today, some of them – most of them – would be One Stars… swimmers.

  Wayne had begun to follow the others but Mrs Scott, in her pumps, had been walking round ready to look after her group up at the deep end.

  “No, Wayne. You stay here in the shallow end until we can see what you can do.” She pointed to where Wasim was standing and Wayne, who did everything that he understood first time, came and stood with Wasim.

  There was a huge cheer from the deep end as the other groups dived, jumped and bombed into the water. The Splash group grinned at each other. They’d be in any second now. Wasim could almost taste the water as he imagined his special jump and spit-out. Then, once they were used to the water, they’d go up for the twenty-five metre swim.

  Wasim gave Wayne another thumbs up and waited. Come on. Come on.

  Carol was talking and they
hadn’t been told to get in yet. She was with one of the lifeguards in his bright yellow polo shirt and shorter than short shorts. He was leaning against the wall and she was laughing. Come on … come on.

  At last the lifeguard went back to his special seat at the 1.5 metre mark. The Splash group looked at each other again and some hopeful smiles broke out.

  But then the yellow shirt turned and said something about a rota which Carol didn’t seem to like. She put her hands on her hips and started talking again. Nine pairs of eyes pleaded with each other and Andrew looked up at the clock and flashed his hands twice.

  “Twenty minutes,” he mouthed.

  Then Gemma spoke up. Good old Gemma, thought Wasim. She wasn’t so bad.

  “Miss? When are we going in?”

  Carol turned and looked as if someone had stabbed her with a spear or something.

  “When … I … am … good … and … ready.”

  But Gemma would probably look like Lara Croft herself one day and Carol usually liked her. Carol raised her eyes to the heavens and then looked at the Splash group as if she was doing them a big favour.

  “It’s free time, isn’t it? Go and choose yourselves a float each,” she said and turned back to Yellow Shirt.

  Donna and Jamila nudged each other and skipped off. Nobody else moved. The One Star. Who was going to say something about the One Star? Gemma wasn’t, she was already shaking her head. Wasim took a deep breath … but then he let it out. Why should it be him? But the others had seen it and knew there was a chance of him doing it. Andrew was nudging him and Gemma had her hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised.

  Wasim gulped in another breath.