My Brilliant Life and Other Disasters

by Catherine Wilkins

Miss Price continues, unaware that I have silently dissed her. “We have some very exciting news.”

  I’ll be the judge of that, I think. Ha ha.

  “As you know, nature is all around us. It is fascinating and complex, and it is very important…” (I try and stifle another yawn.) “Therefore, we are very pleased to announce the Year Six Wildlife Project!”

  I look at Natalie. She smiles. “Not a road safety lecture then.”

  Miss Price continues, “We’ve gone to a lot of trouble to liaise with local authorities to ensure that instead of some normal lessons, you will go on some really interesting field trips as part of your research experience.”

  “This sounds all right, you know,” whispers Natalie.

  “Maybe,” I whisper back. I mean, field trips sound all right. “Especially if we get to miss geography and stuff more than art,” I add. Yeah, maybe this could be fun.

  “And,” says Miss Price, “as there is an even number of you in the whole year, what we’d like you to do is get into pairs.”

  Then again… Noooooo!

  I feel like someone’s just poured a bucket of cold water over my head. It’s splashing everywhere, destroying the life I once knew, that I tried so hard to rebuild. (OK, maybe that’s a tad dramatic, but still.)

  Great. Well, this is just great. Now Natalie has to choose between Amelia and me, again. And Amelia is still kind of the new girl, so Nat will probably feel she has to choose her, again. Then they’ll spend all this enforced extra time together, there will be a new batch of in-jokes that I don’t get, and before you know it I’ll be out in the cold. Again.

  What’s wrong with our school? Why can’t we go in groups of three or something? Why would you do this to me, Universe? Why? Remember when we had that discussion, and we agreed that I was brilliant and that only good things should happen to me from now on? Well, I kept up my end (being brilliant) so thanks a bunch.

  The French have this saying: plus ça change. It means “nothing ever changes” or something along those lines. I’m not exactly sure that’s the whole thing – I’d needed the toilet in that lesson so I was distracted but it seems totally true to me right now.

  My family were supposed to be off the economy drive, and now we’re tightening our belts, which is nearly the same thing. Natalie and Amelia promised never to go off without me again. And now fate has found a way to make it happen all over again. Nothing ever really changes in this stupid place, I think angrily.

  I’m just kind of standing there, inwardly wincing and looking at the floor. I don’t want to see Natalie’s apologetic face. Or Amelia’s smug one. Right. OK. I can be dignified in defeat. Definitely. Probably. I just need to remember how to do my fake smile. Ohhh.

  Natalie nudges my arm gently. “Do you want to be my partner?” she whispers. What?

  “W-what?” I whisper back.

  “WHAT?” echoes Amelia, in what I might have to describe as shock.

  “If you don’t want to go with Joshua or Cherry or Tanya or anyone?” adds Natalie. No way! Joshua is great, and I do like Cherry and Tanya, but Natalie is my best friend.

  “No, I’d love to go with you!” I whisper, elated.

  “Yay!” whispers Natalie.

  “Quieten down! Quieten down!” shouts Miss Price. The noise in the hall has risen steadily from a murmur to a hubbub. People are chattering and pointing at each other across the room.

  I can’t believe Natalie chose me. ME. This is brilliant. Everything is brilliant again. It’s going to be just like the old days, hanging out all the time, having fun – us against the world! And hopefully, as Amelia’s influence lessens, there won’t be as much admin.

  Maybe this whole term is going to be brilliant after all!

  Maybe the French are wrong about plus ça change. I mean, they’re wrong about thinking it’s a good idea to eat frogs’ legs. I imagine.

  “What do you mean it’s not too late for Nat to change her mind?” I repeat Amelia’s audacious suggestion more out of shock than a desire for her to repeat it. (I’m sorry, France – you were right all along. I should have known things never change. And I bet frogs are delicious.)

  We should be in French but instead it’s the first ever lesson of the wildlife project. We’re in the DT classroom because it’s bigger and the desks are wider for project planning. We’re sorting out our groups and being given literature and work sheets on the subject and stuff. It turns out it’s quite a full-on project.

  Other people have asked to go in bigger groups as they are having trouble deciding between friends. But Miss Price has explained that they want us to really learn about teamwork, and that sometimes in bigger groups, certain members can get away with “coasting” while the others do the work. But in groups of two that’s not really possible so everyone has to pull their weight.

  Amelia has just brazenly walked up to Natalie and said Nat could still go in a two with her. Unbelievable.

  “Look, I’m not saying this to be horrible,” lies Amelia. “But Natalie and I are a better fit. We work the same way, and we already sit next to each other in most lessons.”

  “Hey, Jess,” says Joshua, approaching at that moment. “Are you in a two already?”

  “Uh…” Can I say yes? What if Nat has just changed her mind? “Well, I was going to go with Natalie.”

  “Oh, no worries. I’ll go with Lewis.” He disappears again.

  If Natalie is about to reject me, I wonder how undignified it will look if I run after Joshua and say I want to go with him after all? Hmmm.

  “Look, Amelia––” begins Nat, but she is interrupted by Tanya Harris.

  “Tooooons!” She claps me on the back, then she clocks who I’m standing with. “Natalie. Lady Muck.” She nods at them. “Toons, wanna go with me for the project?”

  Hmmm. Do I? It would probably be quite fun to go with Tanya, actually. We’d spend most of the time coming up with rude things for the comic. And I like Tanya. Especially since I’m hardly even scared of her any more.

  “Come on!” she barks, and I jump slightly. (See? In the olden days I would have jumped much further. We’ve really come a long way.)

  “I was going to go with Nat,” I say, still unsure if this is the case.

  “No, don’t go with her, go with me. We’ll have loads of fun together.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” says Amelia unexpectedly (she’s normally too scared of Tanya Harris to talk in front of her). “I think you two are a good fit.” Amelia raises an eyebrow deliberately at me.

  “Well, no one cares what you think,” snaps Tanya, annoyed at being agreed with by someone she has previously called a “posh cow”.

  “Look, sorry everyone, but Jess and I have already agreed to go together,” pipes up Natalie bravely. (She’s also been known to get on the wrong side of Tanya Harris, and doesn’t want to antagonise her.)

  “Fair dos, fair dos,” says Tanya amicably. “Laters.” And she disappears off again.

  “Amelia, I’m sorry, but I’m going with Jess,” says Nat kindly. “I didn’t do much with her last term, and like you said, we already sit together, so I’ll still see you loads.”

  “Well, OK,” sighs Amelia. “Your funeral.” (What’s that supposed to mean?)

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Natalie.

  “Well, just, obviously if you did want to go with me and get a good grade, now is the time to say so, and Jessica can go with one of these … people she’s more academically suited to.”

  OK, that’s a pretty unsubtle way of calling me stupid. And my friends. I mean, sure, Tanya isn’t exactly known for her grades, but Joshua does well at most things.

  I know the real reason Amelia doesn’t like Joshua. And it’s not just that he’s my friend so she feels obliged to dislike him. It’s because he likes science fiction. Well, him and Lewis together.

  At the end of last term Amelia and Natalie were desperate to organise an outing with the boys from the basketball team, so they kept beg
ging me to get Joshua to set it up. I didn’t want to tell Joshua so overtly that they only wanted his “cool” basketball team friends, so Joshua invited Lewis.

  We ended up, the five of us, round at Natalie’s house, watching Lewis’s favourite film because he took them at their word that they wanted to watch DVDs (whereas Natalie and Amelia had hoped the subtext – that they wanted to play Truth Or Dare and stuff – might shine through).

  So we ended up watching the first Star Wars film, “A New Hope”.

  It was made in the 1970s and I thought it stood up pretty well.

  I really enjoyed it. But Amelia hated it. Natalie half liked it, but the main thing we all noticed about it was how much all the characters overused the phrase “delusions of grandeur” to insult each other.

  Amelia has gone off the idea of setting up any more boy-outings through me or Joshua since then.

  I’m annoyed Amelia thinks she can slyly call me an idiot. I don’t care if she is just jealous or insecure, it’s still uncalled for. I know I should just rise above it, but at the same time there’s some things you probably shouldn’t let go, otherwise people will walk all over you.

  “Amelia, if you’ve got something to say, just say it. Do you think I’m not clever enough to go with Natalie or something?” I ask her.

  “Well, if the cap fits,” says Amelia primly. My annoyance shoots up further. She’s so smug! And I’m doing all the legwork here, just to establish that I have indeed been insulted.

  I will myself not to respond, but for some reason my mouth still says, “Yeah? Well, I’m very fun and popular, maybe that’s why Natalie wants to go with me. Not everything is about getting top marks, you know.”

  “Clearly,” retorts Amelia.

  I instantly regret saying this. It’s dangerous territory and I know it. (a) I’m not very fun and popular, and (b) this project is about getting top marks.

  Amelia sighs. “Look, I intend to come top of the class in this project, babes. I was great at stuff like this at my old school. Honestly, it’s cool though. No hard feelings.”

  “Well, we don’t care about getting high marks!” I counter, my voice going worryingly shrill. “We just want to hang out and have the most fun we possibly can while doing this project!”

  “Well, we do want to get high marks as well,” says Natalie, looking – if I’m totally honest here – a tad worried. But only for a second. Then she links her arm through mine and addresses Amelia defiantly. “We’re going to do both.”

  “Yeah!” I say.

  Amelia does her best to look bored and unimpressed at the same time. “If you say so,” she replies. Then she adds, “Good luck,” in a really sarcastic voice and stalks off.

  “Wouldn’t it be great if we actually beat her?” says Natalie as we select DT desks, sit down and start unpacking our wildlife project literature.

  “Yeah!” I say sceptically. “But that’s not what’s important though, is it?”

  “Oh no, of course not!” says Nat quickly. “I am so excited we’re doing our project together!” She turns over the first page of one of the information handouts.

  “I know! It’s going to be great!” I agree.

  “It’s going to be a lot of hours, and extra homework and stuff,” says Natalie, “but what a brilliant excuse to go round to each other’s houses!”

  “Exactly!” I grin. “I mean, I hate your house, with all its delicious food and comfy sofas, but I am prepared to make that sacrifice for the greater good.”

  Nat chuckles and I start leafing through some of the work sheets as well. Some of it looks kind of interesting. It’s a lot to take in in one go though; it’s kind of a bit daunting. I don’t say this.

  “It would be good to get started right away,” says Natalie. “Why don’t you come round to mine tonight? We can get a head start, go through the rest of the information pack together?”

  “Oh, well actually, it’s Wednesday. I have chess club right after school.”

  “Oh,” says Nat, and her face falls a bit.

  The chess club has been a small bone of contention between Nat and me in the past, as she thinks it takes up a lot of my time. That’s partly one of the reasons why she went off with Amelia. I mean, it’s all sorted now and everything. But, you know, it’s typical for the project to get announced on the one day I have an after-school commitment. (Not counting the ace comic, but I can do that any time.)

  I like being in the chess club. Even though I used to get, well, not exactly bullied for it, but there was a bit of name-calling. Except I’m not sure you can even call it name-calling. Some of the mean boys used to say, “Ooh, chess club” as I walked past sometimes. I mean, I know that’s not exactly a rude insult on its own, but it was the way they said it.

  Then Tanya Harris got really excited about a picture I drew of her as a Cadbury Creme Egg and showed it to everyone, and they all stopped doing it. (This is another one of the reasons I’m really glad the cartoons thing is working out; it’s made me far more accepted than I previously was.)

  “Well, what about tomorrow night?” I suggest quickly.

  “Oh yes, definitely, tomorrow night,” agrees Natalie. “We don’t want to get too far behind.”

  “Jeez, Nat, chill out. It’s just a wildlife project. We’re all supposed to work at our own speed and stuff.”

  “Well, Jess – and I say this with love – I think we should try to work slightly faster than your ‘own speed and stuff’,” says Natalie.

  “Ouch,” I say and pull a mock-offended face. “Well, sorreeeee.”

  Natalie giggles. “You know what I mean.”

  “So you agree with Amelia?”

  “No, but, come on. You remember ‘Egypt’.”

  Oh, it is so unfair of her to bring that up. I’m a totally different person now. OK, so last year when we had to do a project on Egypt, I might have got slightly carried away with drawing all the mummies and sphinxes and ever so slightly run out of time for the actual writing, and come bottom of the class.

  “Nat––” I begin.

  “And ‘The Amazon’?” she interrupts. OK, a similar thing happened the year before, when I drew too many parrots for the project on the Amazon rainforest. “See?” says Nat. “There’s a pattern developing here.”

  Hmmm. I don’t know about a pattern exactly. But OK, so maybe I do have a slight track record of drawing excellent pictures for projects and not working quite hard enough on the writing. “All right.” I sigh in recognition. “I drew some brilliant parrots though. You said so yourself.”

  Natalie laughs. “Oh yes, they were second to none,” she says. “You’re such a weirdo.”

  I laugh.

  “But you’re my weirdo,” she adds fondly.

  But after the eighth time Nat says we ought to make a timetable for the project – “really get across the whole thing” – it’s me who’s starting to wonder if this is a huge mistake.

  Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t love Nat. I do, she’s my best friend. Obviously I love her. Obviously. But at the same time, oh-my-God-I-am-already-sick-of-how-seriously-she’s-taking-this-project. I can’t tell if it’s Amelia getting her all competitive, or if this would have happened anyway.

  Also (and again, I’m not sure how much of this is because Amelia drew attention to the grades I usually attract) I seem to have been cast as “lovable idiot who doesn’t get things”, a role which I’m not sure I’m happy to play any more.

  That’s the Jessica of last term. Who wasn’t understood by everyone, and had to beg for scraps of Natalie’s time when Amelia was busy.

  But now I am a celebrated cartoonist. I am the co-author of a comic. This Jessica has other friends. I mean, hello? Two whole other people asked to be my partner for this project. I don’t have to sit around waiting for Nat to pick me. I don’t have to be Nat’s weirdo any more. I can be my own weirdo. (That still doesn’t sound that great, actually, but you get my point.)

  As Nat makes a list of what we
need to do first, I glance around the room and watch Joshua and Lewis deep in discussion, and Tanya laughing her head off at something, and I wonder, for the first time, if I had gone with them whether things mightn’t have been a lot more fun.

  I arrive home later on to find my dad sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper, and my mum boiling some Super Saver Value veg and trying to chop garlic, but the garlic seems to keep slipping out of her hand.

  “And Horace King has a new programme about bird sanctuaries,” my dad announces absently, not looking up from the paper.

  “I’m getting really annoyed with this,” says my mum crossly. I can’t tell if she means the slippery garlic or my dad’s pronouncements from the paper.

  “Oh sorry,” he says. “Would you like a hand?” He stands up. “Oh hello, Jessica, how was school?”

  “Oh no, don’t worry,” says my mum sarcastically. “Just let muggins here do everything. As per usual.”

  Lately I’ve noticed my mum seems to be trying to start her own nickname. She’s always going on about muggins or muggins here. I’m hoping it’s just a phase and she’ll grow out of it. I know you’re supposed to let them live their own lives and make their own decisions, but I also don’t want to feel like I’m colluding in establishing a stupid name. For a start, you’re not meant to give yourself a nickname. Otherwise everyone would be called AceHead or Mr Fantastico.

  “Well then, how about a nice cup of tea?” says my dad, heading for the safety of the kettle and getting some cups out.

  “Don’t forget to put two teabags in,” says my mum.

  Suddenly the back door swings open. “You won’t believe what those VanDerks have said now!” My older sister Tammy bursts into the kitchen, with some paper in one hand and a big bin liner in the other.