Cookie and the Most Annoying Girl in the World

by Konnie Huq

  I explain to the others that excrement means poo. I’ve always liked long words. Nahid taught me this one when I pooed my pants once as a toddler.

  ‘I knew what faeces meant but not excrement,’ giggles Keziah. ‘Faeces also means poo.’

  Meanwhile, Suzie muffles a yelp, covering her mouth with her hands so that Edmonds doesn’t notice and make her do press-ups on the spot.

  The foxes have been there alright. They’ve dragged some rubbish bags along from the bins and had a massive party by the look of things.

  There’s litter everywhere. The wildlife garden is wild at the best of times but right now it looks like a cross between a wasteland and a rubbish tip. We begin tonging up wrappers, newspaper, tissue, takeaway containers, all sorts …

  ‘You, girl!’ barks Mrs Edmonds, pointing at Suzie. ‘Pick that up!’

  Mrs Edmonds points to what looks like a massive fox poo.

  Suzie starts wretching violently. We all try to stifle our laughs so that Edmonds doesn’t notice. Luckily, it’s Axel to the rescue. Stealthy, like a ninja warrior, he swoops in, tongs up the poo (which actually turns out to be a rotten bit of baguette) and bags it. What a hero!

  ‘Superb work,’ says Edmonds when she notices the rotten bit of baguette has gone. She fails to notice that Suzie wasn’t the one who got rid of it and is instead still recovering from her mini panic attack. Suzie is gasping and spluttering, while tears stream from her eyes.

  When Edmonds’ back is turned we all burst into hysterics – Suzie included. The rest of the detention passes quite quickly after that, with all of us working together diligently and actually getting along for once.

  Suzie even manages to conquer her fear and pick up a mouldy apple core.

  She’s really proud of herself and we all congratulate her. To be fair, it took some guts considering the state she was in moments earlier.

  When we’re finally back inside, it feels amazing to be safe, warm and dry again. Just as we’re gathering up our stuff to go home for the day, Axel spots the school secretary, Mrs Jacoby, pinning something up on the noticeboard. We all crowd around.

  No way! Is a TV talent show coming to Woodburn? Is this an after-school club to train us up to be on it? What does the ‘F’ stand for? Fame? Fortune? Fun? If this is an after-school club, twenty-five pounds is a bargain for the whole term. My parents will be delighted – much cheaper than childcare!

  ‘OMG!’ shrieks Suzie, ‘This was meant to be! I knew there was a reason we were all put in detention. Can’t you see? We’re meant to do this. No one else has even seen this poster yet as there’s still three minutes till the bell goes for the end of the day. Six places, and there’s … one, two, three, four, five … six of us.’

  Alison pulls a fluffy pink pen out of her bag and begins signing us all up.

  ‘What an adventure!’ cries Axel.

  We’re all really excited. Jake will blatantly win if this is a competition – his Aliana dance moves are amazing!

  Me and Keziah could do some sort of double act. Mind you, Keziah gets horrific stage fright. That rules out singing and dancing … unless we’re in some sort of disguise? Maybe a puppet show or something in full costume?

  Yay for detention! Now I just have to figure out where to get the twenty-five pounds from …

  CHAPTER 7

  Suzie’s Mansion

  When I get home after detention, I’m excited about the F Factor but worried about what Edmonds has said to my parents. What if they’re fuming? What if they confiscate my Aliana tickets? I bet they’re on the warpath. I needn’t have worried though. Weirder than weird – they’re being unusually nice to me!

  ‘We’re so proud of you,’ says Dad gleefully. ‘The lovely new teacher Mrs Edmonds called to tell us that you were one of the six students picked for the special assignment at school today.’

  ‘Well done, Cookie! Wonderful news!’ says Mum. ‘I’ve made you your favourite – chicken korma – to celebrate and there’s chocolate cake for pudding.’ They’re SO pleased with me. I’m not about to burst their bubble in a hurry.

  Edmonds has totally charmed my parents and even called me ‘one of the smarter ones’. Crazy! She’d never actually met me before today, so how she’s gathered all this info is beyond me.

  At least I’m not in trouble – that’s one less thing to worry about – and they certainly aren’t going to take away my gig tickets. Phew! I’m not even sure if Edmonds has told them what we were actually doing in detention – ‘special assignment’ seems way too grand a description. Mum and Dad are acting like I’d been invited to have lunch with the Prime Minister, not picking up soggy, rotten baguettes in the rain. Special indeed! I’m just going to leave them to believe whatever they want.

  After a hot bath, I speak to Jake on the phone, though not for very long as he’s still being weird with me. Then I speak to Keziah – for much longer as she’s not being weird at all. They’ve both had exactly the same thing happen to them. Mrs Edmonds is playing with our minds! Maybe this is some sort of army tactic she’s using to outsmart us. Perhaps she’s trying to freak us out or something? I should really thank her though, as my parents are super nice to me for the rest of the week. We have pudding every day, which is unheard of in our house!

  Edmonds is also being super nice to us while continuing to be really mean to everyone else. It isn’t a ‘nice’ kind of nice. It’s the sort of nice where you’re living in fear that if you make one false move that’ll be it, ‘nice’ will turn into ‘not-so-nice’ and she’ll come down on you like a ton of bricks. It’s the sort of ‘nice’ where you don’t mind her making everyone else do a million press-ups in a rainstorm because you’re so relieved it’s not you. Scary nice!

  School seems to put her on playground duty most days now, which is really taking the fun out of break time.

  When the weekend finally comes around I’m in two minds about going over to Suzie’s house. I keep fluctuating back and forth between quite looking forward to it and absolutely dreading it. I’ve hardly ever spent any time with her on my own, let alone on her home turf. It’s kind of nerve-racking. What would we talk about? We have NOTHING in common. My knowledge of Aliana Tiny, unicorns and pink things is pretty limited.

  I could probably do press-ups for longer than I could talk to Suzie. The longest we’ve ever spent alone together is when we both came out of our toilet cubicles at the same time and washed our hands in neighbouring sinks. We didn’t say anything to each other then and now I’m going to her house for a WHOLE afternoon!

  On Saturday morning I lie in bed thinking about how to get my hands on the twenty-five pounds for the F Factor.

  I come up with three different options …

  1. Ask my parents, but this runs the risk of them not wanting me to do it and scuppering the whole thing.

  2. Tell them it’s an after-school club for people from the special assignment and it’s such a privilege to have been chosen that I can’t pass it up. Downside: I’d have to go somewhere else after school every week and kill time while they think I’m at the fake club.

  3. See if I can return my bike voucher. I’ll never be able to save up the rest of the money anyway!

  The easiest and most hassle-free option right now is number three. I quickly get dressed and drag Roubi to the bike shop. We’re already outside at 10 a.m. when it opens.

  The sales assistant, Rod (according to his name-badge), is really grouchy and takes all of three seconds to inform me that they don’t do refunds on gift vouchers.

  Why didn’t my parents give me actual money instead of a form of money limited to just one shop, so in fact worth less than real money?!

  Maybe that’s why they’re throwing in the free bell? There are about three bells that cost under five pounds. I try to get one but grouchy Rod says that it can only be claimed when I redeem the voucher. Ugh! This voucher is a total con if you ask me! If I never save enough for a bike it’s a complete waste of twenty-five pounds. I look around to see
if there’s anything else in the shop for the same price. I can just about afford a toddler’s balance bike but apart from that it’s all accessories, helmets, locks, lights and high-vis gear. All totally useless without an actual bicycle.

  Waste of time. We walk home, bike-less.

  That afternoon, Mum drops me off at Suzie’s. It turns out she doesn’t live in a mansion after all but her house is still pretty big. It has a driveway with an ornamental fountain in the middle of it and there are stone lions on each side of the front doorstep.

  Suzie’s mum, Janice, answers the door. Janice is bright orange with masses of swirly blonde hair and matching pink lips and nails. The two of them share all the same features – it’s a bit like looking at Suzie from the future!

  ‘You must be Cookie!’ she says. ‘Suzie’s in the drawing room – I’ll just get her.’ She leaves me in the hallway alone with a massive golden mirror. I look in it and feel VERY messy in this VERY tidy house. A drawing room? What even is a drawing room? A room for drawing in?!

  ‘Sweetpea!’ says Suzie, bounding over and throwing her arms around me.

  She drags me off upstairs to her bedroom, which is just as massive and just as pink as it looks on Instagram. Plus, it has an en-suite bathroom! Jake may have a double bed but Suzie has her OWN BATHROOM. She introduces me to her Golden Retriever, Goldie, the family’s Yorkshire Terrier, Yorkie, and her various other pets, including her budgie, Ziggy, which is short for Zig Zag.

  ‘I came up with it myself,’ she says proudly.

  Next, she gives me a tour of her bedroom, including her wardrobe, dressing table and jewellery box …

  … before showing me around the rest of the house. No swimming pool, no tennis court, no paddocks. BUT they do have a huge circular jacuzzi bathtub. Every room is immaculate: nothing is out of place. In the bedrooms all the bedding matches the curtains and throws. In the reception rooms, cushions, rugs and sofas are all colour-coordinated. In the kitchen, every surface is spotless and gleaming.

  We fill the bathtub with loads of bubble bath and switch on the jets. Suzie’s mum makes us milkshakes, which we sip as we sit on the edge soaking our feet in the masses of foam we’ve created.

  I needn’t have worried about making conversation. Suzie just chats at me the whole time like she’s eager to impress.

  It’s as if she’s on a first date and wants to make sure I ask her out again!

  Plus, we keep doing activities the whole time so we don’t really need to talk much. We play table football (I’m rubbish), sing karaoke (well, Suzie sings while I listen), make an assault course for her dog (who couldn’t be less interested) and then she shows me the Aliana Tiny number she’s hoping to perform for the F Factor (which is completely out of tune).

  I’m quite relieved when her mum finally calls us down for dinner.

  ‘Darling, it’s your favourite,’ she cries. ‘Roast pork with crackling!’

  Oh no! I’ve forgotten to tell them I don’t eat pork and her mum’s put on an enormous spread. The table is full of dishes: pigs in blankets (more pork), roast vegetables with bacon bits on top (more pork), and apple sauce (no pork as far as I’m aware). It’s like I’ve been invited to a pork festival.

  I have to think on my feet. ‘Errr, I’m fasting,’ I lie. ‘It’s Ramadan. But please, you guys tuck in.’

  ‘But you drank a milkshake earlier?’ says Suzie, confused.

  Quite perceptive for her.

  ‘Drinks don’t count,’ I lie. Again. Luckily, they seem to believe me and are blissfully unaware that Ramadan was actually in May, drinks do count and that my parents never let me fast anyway as they reckon I’m too young for it. Other kids at our school do it but I guess it’s passed Suzie by. Phew. As I’m leaving Suzie’s that evening she reminds me that there’s an F Factor meeting on Monday. ‘Dunno if I can do it,’ I sigh. ‘I still don’t have the twenty-five pounds.’

  ‘Mum!’ yells Suzie. ‘I need twenty-five pounds! NOW!’

  ‘OK, darling,’ comes the instant reply from the kitchen. Suzie grabs her mum’s handbag off the hall table and fishes around in her purse before pulling out a couple of crisp banknotes – twenty-five pounds! She thrusts them into my hand.

  ‘I can’t accept this, Suzie,’ I say. ‘No way!’

  ‘Well, how about I buy the other Aliana ticket off you?’ she says, twisting her hair around her finger. ‘We’ll go together! It’ll be amazeballs!’

  I know I should really give the spare ticket to Jake as he would LOVE to go. But why should I? He’s not even speaking to me! Suzie, on the other hand, has invited me round to her house. Besides, it’s not like I’m just giving it to her, she’s buying it off me. Plus, without it I risk missing out on the F Factor.

  ‘OK,’ I say finally. ‘You can have the other ticket.’ I reluctantly pull it out of my trouser pocket.

  Suzie beams and hands me the twenty-five pounds.

  She snatches the ticket off me a little bit too quickly and I have a sinking feeling in my stomach.

  CHAPTER 8

  Sniffling

  Tickets for the Aliana gig are selling on the Internet for three hundred pounds and I’ve just sold one for twenty-five pounds. Am I mad?! I guess it’s twenty-five pounds more than I’d get if I just gave it to Jake for free though, and at least now I won’t miss out on the F Factor. It would be awful if the others ended up doing it without me. What if they all became best friends and I was left out of the group?!

  My FOMO is getting the better of me.

  Poor Jake will be even more upset now. He knows every single Aliana lyric and dance move. Maybe the gig ticket would have cheered him up? Am I a bad person?

  Was Suzie only being nice to me yesterday so that I’d give her the ticket? Maybe now that she’s got what she wanted, she’ll go back to being her mean old self again?

  Ugh! If I’d sold the ticket for three hundred pounds on the Internet I could have bought a bike from Mike’s Bikes by now. I could have bought three bikes! I saw one I quite liked for a hundred pounds when I was in there on Saturday. I sigh and put the twenty-five pounds away in an envelope ready to hand in to the school office before the F Factor meeting.

  I can’t wait to find out more details about it all. The whole thing has been a bit vague and mysterious so far. After we signed up last week, the six of us found notes in our bags stating the following …

  There was no signature, no contact details, no more information. Odd.

  The following Monday, I’m wondering what the F Factor has in store when Axel shouts out to me from under his tree. ‘Hey Cookie! I wanna show you something. I already showed Keziah last week and she liked it.’ He’s all excited, and adds, ‘It’s even better now cos I’ve been practising all weekend. It’s a secret though, OK?’

  ‘Uh, OK, sure,’ I reply. I’ve no idea what on earth he’s talking about. Masked by the tree so no one but me can see, he drops his bag down and crouches with his hands on the floor. The next bit is kind of bizarre. He puts his feet over his shoulders and walks forward on his hands, balancing precariously for about five seconds before toppling over.

  ‘Do you like it?’ he asks.

  ‘Err, yeah,’ I say. I’m not quite sure if I do like it. If he’d have kept it up for longer it might have looked impressive.

  ‘Gonna put it to music and add a few jumps at the beginning and do it for the F Factor,’ he says proudly.

  ‘Great!’ I reply sceptically as we head inside.

  By lunchtime, I’m starving. I was worrying about Jake and the ticket so much this morning that I didn’t have any appetite for breakfast. I go to the school office and hand in my twenty-five pounds, clearly marked with my name and ‘F FACTOR MONEY’ in capitals on the envelope.

  ‘I didn’t think that would be your kind of thing, Cookie,’ says Mr Hastings, the deputy head, glancing over from the photocopier. ‘Good on you!’

  ‘Thanks?’ I reply, a little confused.

  Mr Hastings is a bit of a Jekyll-and-Hyde
character. Nice as pie on a good day but on a bad day he turns really mean and short-tempered. It’s like someone else’s personality has been transplanted into his body.

  Thankfully today is a good day. He winks at me in a friendly manner and walks off.

  Why wouldn’t it be my thing? What is my thing? Being boring and doing homework? Being square and unglamorous? Well, Mr Hastings … I’ve got news for you! I AM glamorous! I’m going to the Aliana Tiny gig with Suzie Ashby and the F Factor IS my thing. SO. THERE. As though she’d heard me mention Suzie even though I’d only thought it in my head, Alison Denbigh enters the office at that exact moment to hand over her twenty-five pounds. Now she is being overly nice to me too. Oh boy! Don’t tell me she’s after my other ticket. Maybe I should let her have it … for three hundred pounds! Bikes all round, Jake and Keziah!

  ‘So exciting about the F Factor!’ says Alison. ‘We’ll all have such fun together. Did you have a good time with Suzie on Saturday?’ she adds casually. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Not much,’ I reply.

  ‘Did you have milkshakes?’ she asks more urgently. ‘Did you put your feet in the jacuzzi?! Did her mum make you a buffet?’