My Brilliant Life and Other Disasters

by Catherine Wilkins

  “I don’t like them,” I say flatly. Might as well get the ball rolling.

  “Well,” Lewis pauses, looking at the pictures in turn, “I don’t think they’re that good.”

  “I sort of like them,” says Tanya, “but I’m not that bothered.”

  “They’re OK,” amends Lewis, “they’re just not brilliant.”

  “Three for three. Oh dear, it’s unanimous,” I say.

  “Hang on, I like them,” replies Joshua. I’m surprised at how these words cut me. It seems a bit ridiculous I could want Joshua only to like my cartoons and not those of my enemies but still. Ouch.

  “Yeah, but you’re outvoted,” I inform him a bit sharply.

  “You don’t run the comic, Jessica,” says Joshua, sounding annoyed.

  “Nor do you,” I retort.

  “That’s right, I do,” jokes Tanya. “No, I’m just kidding. Trying to lighten the tension. You two need to sort it out; we’ve got work to do here.”

  “Yeah, well, Jessica should stop acting like she owns everything to do with Hellfern,” snaps Joshua.

  “Ha! That’s rich coming from you!” I retort. “And I do actually do loads for this comic. More than any of you!”

  “All right, careful there, Toons,” says Tanya warningly. “Don’t start getting big-headed for real.”

  “Sorry,” I say, calming down and feeling faintly ridiculous.

  “I just think it would be nice to give someone a chance,” says Joshua flatly.

  Well, it would be if they deserved a chance, I want to add, but don’t. I feel like this argument has already gone too far.

  “Well, it’s causing too much drama,” says Tanya. “Toons, you need to take a good look at yourself. Joshua, sorry, your new girlfriend can’t be in the comic.”

  “She’s not his girlfriend!” I blurt out. Is she? Why would I even care? I don’t. I don’t care. Oh good grief. Joshua doesn’t answer the question. He just frowns and looks down.

  “Tell you what, Joshy,” says Tanya. “We’ll have a look at her pictures again for the next issue. We’ve nearly got this one sorted; we’re going to press soon, and we don’t want to mess with a winning formula.”

  “Fine,” mutters Joshua.

  “So, can we agree on price? Twenty pence for the next issue?” Tanya moves business on briskly.

  I hate the way Joshua keeps looking at me like he thinks I’ve been really mean, and sabotaged some innocent girl’s chance of making it big in our comic. I start to actually feel guilty. I have to remind myself of all the unkind things Scarlett has said to me.

  Maybe I should have told them about how nasty she is, and how she keeps trying to blank and bully me. And how she compulsively lies, and how she stole a soap from Boots. I’m slightly glad I didn’t have to tell them about the soap because I once heard Tanya say that “snitches get stitches”. But you know, still.

  Joshua hasn’t mentioned selling the comic in a comic shop though, which makes me think Scarlett hasn’t been able to follow through on that promise, which again proves she lies, and I have done nothing wrong.

  “Thanks for putting some of your lunch break aside to go over this stuff,” says Natalie as I hand her my pile of Internet printouts on flowers in our form room, and she hands me her pile of booklets and literature from Diana Wood, a Wildlife Action committee member (whatever that is).

  “My pleasure,” I reply, pulling my chair closer to her desk. “This stuff looks amazing, you weren’t kidding.”

  “I know,” says Nat quite seriously. I thought she’d be more pleased by my compliment. “It’s good to be cracking on,” she continues, starting to rifle through my pile of paper. “We’re going to need to pull something out of the bag if we want to do well at this, you know. Amelia finally told me who her special experts are.”

  “Who? Let me guess, the Queen?” I joke.

  Natalie chuckles. “No, the Cool For Cats team.”

  “What?” I can’t mask my scorn. “So, in other words, she’s one of the people who are never going to get replies,” I say. Those idiots. Not like me. I am definitely going to get a reply. Definitely.

  “No, she’s totally wangled it.” Natalie lowers her voice, even though it is only us in the form room. “Remember her cousin, Scarlett?” Oh no, here we go.

  “I’d rather not,” I reply.

  Nat chuckles again. “Well, she knows them somehow.” Of course she does. She just knows every celebrity she wants.

  “Let me guess, a friend’s cousin?” I ask drily.

  “Something like that. Anyway, she’s taken Amelia’s letter for her, and she’s getting it right to them. Amelia and Cassy are going to have such an amazing project now.” Natalie looks wistful.

  I feel slightly tense as I wonder if Nat is wishing she’d gone with Amelia after all, to get this scoop. Then I remember that I don’t believe it will happen because Scarlett is a serial liar, and I relax again. Weirdly, I feel a bit sorry for Amelia.

  “Hey, you know what, Nat? Maybe you should tell Amelia to write to some other experts as well, just in case?”

  “Why?”

  “I just don’t trust Scarlett. I think she might be a bit of a liar.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, you know… She said her belt was Prada, then she said it was Gucci. She said she was vegetarian, then Joshua and I saw her eat a hotdog… I just think Amelia should … hedge her bets.” Nat lets out a small sigh. “What?” I ask.

  “Jess, did you actually read this?” she asks tiredly, holding up a page for me to see.

  “Yes, of course,” I say defensively. “Well, most of it. Why?”

  “Because you haven’t printed out some information on wild flowers, you’ve printed out some information on a band called The Wild Flowers.” I stare at her. “Rather than the actual plants?”

  “What? Let me see that.” I grab the paper off Natalie and study it properly. Oh no, she’s right. Thinking about it, that does sort of explain why in the pictures the conservationists were looking a bit, you know, like goths. Oh nooooooo.

  “I’m really sorry,” I begin. “OK, I didn’t read that bit, but I did read all the rest. You know, the stuff about the food chain bit, and the bees––”

  “This is because you weren’t concentrating properly, isn’t it? It’s because you were drawing all those stupid sheep for your stupid comic book, weren’t you?” Natalie interrupts me crossly.

  “What? Well, um,” I stammer, unsure how to respond. That’s kind of pretty much true.

  “Oh look, Nat, I’ve drawn some amazing sheep. Look, aren’t they great?” She does an impression of me from this morning, before registration. It’s pretty accurate. “I knew you couldn’t have drawn that many sheep and still got everything done.”

  “Hang on––”

  “You keep choosing that immature comic over me and this project. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Are you that stupid?”

  “I’m not stupid,” I say, stung.

  “That thing has really gone to your head, you know. You’re obsessed with how many people like your pictures.”

  That’s not true! Well. Kind of. Maybe it is a bit true. But even if it is true, I don’t know why Nat would be so begrudging that I’m pleased my cartoons are popular. Anyone would be pleased by that. She and Amelia were so mean to me last term, I had to branch out. It’s only natural that I would want to spend more time with people who like me than those who don’t. That’s not a crime.

  “Well, this is just fantastic,” says Natalie sarcastically. “Amelia is going to have the best project ever, thanks to Scarlett, and you’re just sabotaging everything we do from within!”

  And with that, Natalie grabs the pile of paper I’m holding, hoists her bag over her shoulder and storms out of our form room leaving me on my own.

  The rest of the day goes by in a blur of annoyance. Natalie ignores me for ages, but by the time we need to get the bus home she is saying basic sentences to me again.

  I
feel guilty I didn’t work harder on the project, but also really stung that she called me stupid. That’s the sort of thing Amelia says, not Natalie.

  I mean, sure, I’m not a high achiever per se, but I’ve got brains. All my report cards say so. They say I clearly have brains, but I don’t tend to use them. Hmmm.

  I’m not stupid. I still know the word inalienable.

  I sulk in my room after dinner, unsure what I should do. Then I have a brilliant idea that will show Natalie I’m sorry I messed up, but in the cleverest way I know how. I will make a sorry card that makes me look hyper-intelligent.

  I get a piece of card and fold it in half. First I draw a dolphin on the front (Natalie loves dolphins). It’s the best dolphin I’ve ever done. I spend ages making it perfect and give it more details than I normally would. I leave a banner at the top, and colour the sea a bright blue and the dolphin grey with my felt tips. I’m going to write the words of the card in the banner at the top.

  Then I go on to Google Translate and type in “I’m sorry” so it brings up the Latin (this is the crowning glory of my plan). Everyone knows you have to be super clever to know Latin. Or rich. Or learning a musical instrument. But still, it’s impressive.

  “I’m sorry” in Latin is “Paenitet”. Which I guess kind of does look like the word “penitent” so maybe language does evolve and make sense, just like my dad claims it does.

  Anyway, back to work. I use the online thesaurus to substitute fancy words I don’t know for normal ones I do, to help me write a really intellectual message. So inside it says:

  Oh yeah. How do you like me now? Who’s stupid now? Exactly. Not me, that’s for sure. I know all kinds of words. In your face, haters. Oh yeah. I rock.

  Finally it is ready. I feel much better as I get into bed. I hope this brilliant idea works out better than my secret brilliant idea has so far.

  Tuesday starts really well. And that’s probably the best thing that can be said about it.

  I give Natalie the card in our form at registration and she really likes it.

  “Oh my God, you didn’t have to do that!” she exclaims, hugging me. “That’s the best dolphin I ever saw! Wow, Jess! That’s properly amazing!” She examines the card. “But what does it say?”

  “Oh that?” I try to play it cool. “That’s, uh, just some Latin I happen to know. It says I’m sorry, in Latin. Yeah, you know, I know stuff. Lots of stuff. I’m an asset to any team I’m on…” I trail off.

  I might have come on a bit strong there, now I think about it. Not completely that subtle actually.

  Natalie looks at me quizzically and opens the card. “What the— Jess? You are veritably compunctious?” She chuckles. “I don’t know what that means, but I totally absolve you, and I want our project to be resplendent too!”

  She hugs me again. “Oh, Jess!” she says, squeezing me really tightly. “I’m so sorry. By the way, I don’t, never have and never will think you’re stupid.” She finally releases me. “And I’m really sorry if I gave you that impression. You don’t have to prove you’re clever to me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say evasively. “I totally just knew some Latin that I thought I’d throw in. No biggy.”

  Natalie chuckles. “Oh really?”

  “Yes, really,” I say. “I mean, I know you think I haven’t been taking the project as seriously as you. I know you want a good mark and stuff. I’ll work harder on it.”

  “I’m sorry I keep getting stressed about it,” says Nat. “I do want it to be fun too. I think we’re going to be fine.”

  “I know we are,” I say. Though I can’t help frowning as I notice that lots more people seem to have had letters from their wildlife experts. Where’s ours?

  In the grand scheme of things, if it could have just stayed registration all day, everything would have been fine. I mean, whose idea was it to have lessons and stuff at school? Ludicrous.

  Though, to be fair, my Tuesday morning lessons of double art and double English were perfectly OK.

  I mean, I didn’t like the way Joshua said he had a “major announcement” for the comic that he refused to reveal until our lunchtime meeting. But I liked the rest of art, and it was fun catching up with Megan, Emily and Fatimah. (Fatimah’s five-year-old cousin in Manchester actually has a bouncy castle in his back garden – how lucky is that? Sometimes I wish I could be five on a bouncy castle again. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with all this nonsense.)

  I have a slightly sick feeling in my stomach as we all gather on the comfy seats outside the library at lunchtime. Tanya and Lewis seem genuinely excited and interested in whatever this new thing is, but I have a nasty suspicion about it.

  “We have an offer to sell our comic in Big Dave’s shop!” declares Joshua.

  “Yes!” Lewis does a little air punch.

  “Cosmic,” says Tanya, looking composed, as if on some level she’d been waiting for this to happen. (I probably should have looked up what that actually means. But it sounds like it’s a good and cool thing.)

  “Oh right, that’s, uh … happening, is it?” I respond darkly. “There’s no kind of … catch, or anything, is there?” I ask, knowing full well what Joshua is about to say, but still hoping I’m wrong.

  “Well, kind of, yes,” says Joshua.

  “We’re not selling out and putting adverts in,” says Tanya.

  “No, it’s not that,” says Joshua. “Basically, Scarlett, the girl that wants her cartoons in the comic, has set this up at Big Dave’s comic shop. It’s kind of a you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours situation.”

  “Oh right,” says Tanya. “So we put her in our comic, and she puts our comic in a shop? Like a business arrangement?”

  “Yes,” says Joshua. “And she wants to be on the front cover.”

  Noooooo! That crafty little… This is outrageous. And it doesn’t even count as a front cover win, if she has to bribe her way into it. Honestly.

  “I say we go for it,” says Lewis. “Shall we vote?” Noooooo!

  “All right, look,” I hear myself say. “I didn’t want to have to bring this up, but I think Scarlett is bad news.”

  “Oh, really?” Joshua folds his arms sceptically. “Nothing to do with you always wanting to be on the front cover?”

  “Well––” I’m caught off guard. “I mean, I do think my bee cartoon is a better cover but that’s not what—”

  “That’s not the issue, Toons,” says Tanya.

  “Look, she’s horrible,” I blurt out.

  “Is she?” queries Tanya. “You never mentioned that before.”

  “Tanya, she’s Amelia’s cousin,” I say.

  “Ohhh.”

  “You can’t judge someone on who their cousin is,” says Joshua, which sounds annoyingly reasonable put like that.

  “No, look, what I mean is,” I struggle on. “She’s been really mean to me. And also, I think she lies. I don’t think we can trust her. I wouldn’t be so sure this shop thing will really even happen. I think she just says things to get what she wants. And are we even ready for a shop anyway? We said we’d build a fan base at the school first.”

  “We were born ready, Toons,” quips Tanya.

  “OK, but look at the evidence, right. She said she was vegetarian at this sleepover, then Joshua and I saw her eat a hotdog. She said her belt was Prada then she said it was Gucci.” (Hmmm, could it be that this all sounds a bit flimsy?) “And, you know when we were in Boots together? I saw her steal a soap!”

  “Oh my God,” says Joshua. “I see what’s going on here.” (Finally! Thank you.) “You’re jealous of Scarlett!” WHAT?

  “What?” I say. “No! If anything, she’s jealous of me!”

  “Well, why is it only now we’re hearing about this soap theft?” asks Joshua. “Why didn’t you mention that sooner?” But it’s hard to snap back and respond to him because I feel like I’m falling down a well.

  “Look––” I attempt.

  “It seem
s a bit convenient that Scarlett is suddenly a thief,” continues Joshua. “I just find it very hard to believe you.”

  “Oh right, so I’m the liar!” I flare up at him. “Yeah, sure, why not. If that makes things easier for you, then fine!”

  “Calm down, Toons,” says Tanya.

  “No!” I reply angrily. (I feel like I’m starting to have an out-of-body experience. Did I just shout at the scariest girl in school? Surely not.)

  “Jess––” attempts Joshua.

  “No!” I interrupt. “Look. I don’t like this girl, and I say she doesn’t get to go on the front cover just by bribing you idiots––”

  “Who are you calling an idiot?” asks Tanya warningly, but I ignore her.

  “I do loads for this comic!” I yell. “It would be nothing without me! You should listen to me on this!”

  “OK.” Tanya addresses the others calmly. “Toons has officially become a nightmare.”

  “Yeah,” agrees Joshua, looking surprised. “You’ve got really arrogant, Jessica. I’ve never seen this side to you before.”

  “Look, if you include Scarlett’s cartoons in the comic, I’m quitting.” I can’t believe I’m threatening them like this.

  “That isn’t making you look less arrogant, Jess,” says Lewis. “Besides,” he adds, “I don’t get why you think we’re not ready for this. You’re normally the one that’s all for world domination.”

  I am all for world domination, I think crossly. But Scarlett is lying! Why don’t they believe me?

  “I mean it, you guys,” I say desperately, standing up and grabbing my bag. “Tanya, you wouldn’t even be in this comic if it wasn’t for me.”

  “Toons, I consider you a good friend, but you need to have a word with yourself,” says Tanya flatly.

  “Oh yeah, right,” I says sarcastically. “Yeah, well, I suppose it’s called show-business not friend-business!” (Mental note: stop shouting at the scariest girl in school!)