Oh, but of course, silly me, that is in the normal world where people aren’t completely controlling and crazy, like my mum.
My mad, controlling mum, of course, couldn’t help herself and when Gran passed me the bowl Mum made her I’m-in-terrible-pain face and sighed loudly making it clear she disapproved.
I wish Mum wouldn’t do things like that. It drives me mad. And it makes me feel so angry and bad about myself, the way I look and stuff. It’s like every single time I eat anything that isn’t a celery stick or a dry cracker or something revolting, Mum is on my case telling me not to eat whatever it is in case I get fat. And I just know she means fat-ter.
It’s like she’s judging me the whole time. Like I’m some sort of idiot who doesn’t know how to eat. And the joke is that, with Mum breathing down my neck and watching me every time I’m even near the kitchen, I actually end up wanting to eat more than if she just left me alone! I know I wouldn’t eat loads of biscuits and stuff if Mum wasn’t always prowling around trying to catch me out.
Gran noticed Mum’s sigh and expression. ‘Leave her alone, Kat, she’s fine,’ she said.
‘Hah, well, it’s exactly what you used to do to me, Mum, when I was her age! You were always going on at me not to eat this or that!’ Mum replied, sounding a bit like a teenager … A bit like me, I guess – and Mum’s forty-one. Practically a pensioner!
Gran, as usual, replied in exactly the way she knew would be most likely to make Mum lose it. ‘Yes, darling, and look at you now – lovely and slim – so my cunning plan obviously worked!’
‘Well then, it will work for Tabitha too, then, won’t it?’ Mum practically screamed at Gran who, of course, answered straight back.
‘No, because you’re not as good at it as I was. Tab’s just going to feel controlled and bullied by you, aren’t you, Tab?’
Gran was smiling and doing this on purpose to wind Mum up, I could tell. And it was working, like it always does. I couldn’t help feeling a little bit sorry for Mum having her own mum always teasing her. But I am really glad Gran’s not joining in with the whole, Oh-Tab-please-don’t-eat-pudding/biscuits-etc-etc nagging that Mum always does.
Oh yes, and by the way, she NEVER, EVER does this with Luke because he is, of course, her favourite and is also a stick-skinny runt. But still, she should be like this to both of us or neither of us. Unless, of course, she actually wants me to have proper proof, once and for all, that she loves Luke more than she loves me. Maybe she would love me as much as him if I never ate a single thing and ended up disgustingly, mankenstein-thin like Luke, who looks like a broom handle with a wig on top.
So I read Dad’s letter in the end. I didn’t want to but I was bored so I thought I might as well. It’s not like I was dying to see what it said or anything. And I wish I hadn’t because it made me cry – only a bit, but still.
I know he’s a bit hopeless and not very good at earning a living, or being a husband, or doing any of the stuff that grown-ups, especially grown-ups with kids, i.e. parents, are supposed to do, but the letter made me miss him and that’s what made me cry. I don’t want to miss him.
Way back (oh man, it seems like years but it’s only months really), when Mum told us that we were moving to Gran’s because we couldn’t afford to live in Ivy House any more, and that Dad wouldn’t be coming with us, I was upset that everything was going to change. But I didn’t really think what it would be like to live without Dad. I don’t know why. There was so much else to think about, I suppose. Luke had burst into tears, and after a bit I’d started crying too. Luke’s crying had made me cry, I suppose, but it was also because of the news, obvs. Dad wasn’t even there when Mum told us. He told Luke and me later that he ‘couldn’t face it’. Typical.
Anyway, in his letter Dad said he misses me and wants to see me and why don’t I ever text him? It’s not like he texts me that much! I suppose I could go and see him for a few days. It might be all right. At least he won’t go on about biscuits and puddings and all the stuff I shouldn’t (according to Mum) be eating.
Urgh, I just went on Facebook and Grace is trying to be my friend! I don’t know what to do. Obviously I’m not going to accept. Everyone would think she is one of my friends. Hello?! I don’t think so. But you can tell when someone’s rejected your friend request. And even if I don’t reject it and just ignore it for a bit, that will look like a rejection. It would definitely feel like a rejection to me. I never ask anyone to be my friend on Facebook, it’s just so desperate.
I checked out Grace’s page and she actually says that she goes to homework club! I mean, who puts that on their profile? You might as well put, I am the UNCOOLEST person in the world! She put that she’s in the debating club at school too! I wouldn’t put that either, although, I admit, that is a fraction better than saying you’re in homework club, which is, literally, the worst. Grace has got twenty-seven friends on her page but some of them look like they must be relatives, so it’s not like she’s really got twenty-seven actual, proper friends. I’ve got a hundred and six, and most are real friends … Okay, not real-life friends who I’ve actually met but, you know, people whose stuff I like.
I suppose I could accept her because it is good to have loads and loads of friends on there, making me look super popular, and if you’ve got tons of friends then no one’s probably going to notice a few Grace-types amongst them. It’s not like anyone’s going to go through your entire list of friends, unless you’re, like, madly in love with someone, I s’pose.
Hmm, still don’t know, though – it is a bit risky. If I accept her she might start joining us at lunch, or worse, try to sit with us on our table in class. She is quite brainy, so that would mean I could copy her answers and stuff, but I don’t know whether that’s worth the risk of actually accepting her as a friend. I’m going to leave it for a bit, and see what she’s like at school and if she says anything about it.
I did walk Basil, even though it was rainy and wet, mainly because I wanted to accidentally-on-purpose bump into Sam, as I now know Snap-Dog Boy is called.
Sam, Sam, Sam. Good name, isn’t it? I like that name and it goes so well with Tab, doesn’t it? It’s THE perfect name to go with mine. Sam and Tab. Tab and Sam. Tabitha and Sam. Tabitha and Samuel (I suppose he is a Samuel? All Sams are Samuels, aren’t they?) Samuel and Tabitha. Urgh, no, Samuel and Tabitha sounds like something out of the Bible. Sam and Tab or Tab and Sam – those sound the best and really cool, too.
But I didn’t see him! I don’t know why. I walked Basil around the usual time I usually see Sam and his dog. I’m so annoyed – I got wet and cold and stayed out much longer than I would normally, just waiting to see if Sam turned up, in case he was a bit late taking his dog out or something. It was nearly an hour before I ended up going home. An hour walking round in the rain?
I hope Sam wasn’t round a corner watching me wait so long – how pathetic would that have looked? Basil thought it was Christmas! He obviously couldn’t get over his luck at being allowed to run about for so much longer than normal. He kept scampering about and then stopping for a bit and looking up at me like he was going to say (if he could speak, which everyone, apart from Gran, knows he actually cannot because he is not human!), ‘Really? Can I keep running around? Are we really staying out this long?’
It was quite sweet, actually, but I won’t be doing it again – sorry Basil. Hanging about in the rain on the off-chance that a boy I hardly know turns up is not a good look.
It was quite sunny and warm today, so during lunch break A’isha suggested that we all climb onto the roof of the art annex to sunbathe. It’s the perfect place because the roof is completely flat.
The art annex is a sort of Portakabin bungalow thing. At my old school this was exactly the same type of thing the builders used as their temporary tearoom/store cupboard while they were building the new performance wing and here, at HAC, it’s used as an actual permanent classroom! Still, I’d much rather be here, even without posh buildings for every sing
le department. Who cares about that?
The roof is super easy to get onto actually – you just climb up a big tree that grows at the back and then jump across from the top branch. I guess it’s a bit dangerous, if you’re chicken, which I’m so not. You are definitely not supposed to go up there but you’d have to be an idiot not to be able to make that jump.
The best thing is you can’t be seen from the main playground unless someone is actually looking right up at the roof. So, once we’d got up there we all rolled our skirts up and tucked them into our knickers so that we’d tan our legs properly. A’isha was wearing tights so she had to take them off first. ‘Dad makes me wear them no matter how hot it is, for modesty,’ she said, doing a silly face and laughing. And she took off her hijab, too. ‘It’s not like he’s ever going to find out, is it?’ she said as she scrunched it up and stuffed it into her bag. And then Emz and A’isha rolled the waistbands of their skirts down too and squished them into the tops of their knickers. There was so much skirt material all puffed out from the tops and bottoms of their knickers it looked like they were wearing nappies! I nearly died laughing.
‘What? Why are you laughing? We’ll get brownest this way. We’ll get the most tanned we can get without going nudie-rudie!’ A’isha yelled at me. I didn’t say it out loud but I had thought she might not be that bothered about tanning cos of being mixed-race but she said she wants to get her legs as brown as poss.
Neither of them could see how funny it was until I said they both looked like they’d done a huge poo, which they did. Then they split their sides laughing.
It was really hot up there. We kept looking down at the playground and watching what everyone was doing. It was great because no one knew we were watching them. I spotted Grace, wearing her skirt, as per usual, the way it’s supposed to be worn, i.e. regulation-for-nerds-only length. Even though that’s how she always wears it, it looked even more ridiculous than usual in the hot weather.
I was just about to point her out to the other two when I realised she was on her own and I felt bad, so I didn’t. I don’t know why I feel sorry for Grace, but I do. I wish I didn’t. Just like I wish I didn’t feel sorry for Dad, either.
And then, you will not believe this, Grace looked up and saw me and waved! I am not kidding – she waved at me! And not just a small wave of her hand, oh no, not Grace – it was a full-on massive, whole-arm-and-hand wave, like she was bringing in a plane. So, of course, what happened? Obviously one of the teachers, who was on playground duty, noticed Grace waving like a loon. The teacher goes over to her and looks up in the direction Grace was waving and sees – who else – me, of course! Thanks a lot, Grace.
The teacher, Ms Dryden (usually known as Ms Drippy-Dry. She teaches maths and there are no laughs in her classes ever) marched over to the hut. Emz and A’isha had already started wriggling backwards away from the edge of the roof on their tummies, like they do in the army, to stay flat and out of sight. If they’d stood up, Miss would definitely have seen them as well. It was too late for me – I knew she’d already seen me.
Emz and A’isha were whispering, ‘Ouch, ouch,’ because the roof was scratchy. We already knew that because of lying on it, but I guess it’s scratchier if you’re slithering along it on your bare skin, like a worm.
‘Shhh,’ I hissed at them, ‘we’ll all get caught.’
‘We’re already caught, brainbox,’ A’isha hissed back.
‘You’re not – it’s only me so far,’ I hissed just as Ms Drippy-Dry got there.
‘Tabitha Baird, what a surprise. How did I know it would have to be you?’ Ms Drippy-Dry shouted up, super sarcastic. ‘Who is up there with you?’
I looked down. ‘No one. I’m up here on my own.’
I could hear Emz and A’isha trying to stifle their giggles behind me.
‘I don’t believe that for one minute. You never do anything without an audience,’ Ms Drippy-Dry said meanly, which made me instantly decide to annoy her.
So, instead of coming straight down, as she obviously expected me to, I stayed lying on my stomach and then rested my chin on my hands, all casual and relaxed, like it was a completely normal thing to be talking to a teacher while lying on the roof of a school building. ‘I don’t think that’s fair, Miss Dryden,’ I replied, acting like I was quite upset.
‘Yes, it is. You’re always showing off. You’re in constant need of attention. I can’t imagine you doing a single thing alone.’
‘Hmm, well, that’s not true. Let me think. Ooh, yes, I know, I go to the toilet all on my own!’ I replied, making out like that was an amazing big deal and that I really thought it deserved her praise.
I quickly looked back. A’isha and Emz were literally stuffing their hands in their mouths to stop themselves laughing out loud.
‘This is ridiculous. Get down here this minute and go straight to Miss Wright’s office. This is a matter for the head teacher!’ Ms Drippy-Dry snapped.
I’d obviously succeeded in really annoying her. Good. I was pleased. She deserved it. She shouldn’t have called me a show-off. So what if I do always muck about to make people laugh – that’s my thing. I don’t think it means that there’s anything wrong with me, does it? I hope it doesn’t. Everyone likes someone who’s a laugh. Don’t they?
Ms Drippy-Dry marched me up to the head’s office and went in first, making me wait outside. Mrs Bras gave me an oh-you-again look. I just ignored her and her stupid boobs, which is pretty hard to do because they are enormous and all over the shop.
When Ms Drippy-Dry came out she gave me an evil stare. She’d obviously told Miss Wright everything. Big deal.
But, oh my god, Miss Wight was much more furious than I’d expected. I thought she was going to have a heart attack. She went on and on about health and safety and how I could have been killed or seriously injured (she actually managed to make ‘seriously injured’ sound worse than being killed!). And then she blathered on about how she’d warned me that I was on notice, blah, blah, blah, and that I’d disappointed everyone by continuing to behave badly, blah, blah, blah, and that this was the last straw, blah, blah, blah.
I stopped listening. She just kept saying the same thing over and over again, only using different words, like grown-ups always do when they are telling you off and don’t know when to stop.
‘Are you taking any of this in?’ I suddenly heard her say.
‘Yes, Miss, of course I am,’ I replied immediately, although I hadn’t heard a word she’d said since ‘disappointed everyone’. I’d completely zoned out.
So, the first thing I actually heard her say after that was, ‘Very well then. I’ll be writing to your mother when I’ve made my decision.’
Now, obviously, I had no idea what she was talking about. Eh? What decision? I’ve got brilliant at pretending to listen over the years. She probably means some stupid detention or something. Obviously it’s super-boring that she’s writing to Mum because Mum will, of course, freak out and then write on her blog about how awful I am because I got a detention or whatever punishment Miss Wright has decided to give me for my huge, terrible, world-shattering crime. I don’t care though – it’s not as if Mum can do anything, really, can she? Apart from go on more about how I shouldn’t eat biscuits! Big deal.
As I left the head’s office I bumped straight into Grace in the corridor.
‘Thanks a bunch, Grace. You waving at me got me caught! Drippy-Dry wouldn’t have known I was up there if you hadn’t waved at me! Miss Wright’s just had a real go at me, all thanks to you.’
I wasn’t actually that bothered, but I wanted to have a go at her because it was her fault that I got caught.
‘I wasn’t waving at you, Tab, honestly.’
‘Yes you were, don’t deny it. I saw you. You were waving all over the place, like a looney-tune. I’m surprised an aeroplane didn’t land on you!’
‘I promise I wasn’t waving at you. A wasp was buzzing around me. I was trying to make it go away. That’s why I was usi
ng both my arms. You must have seen – no one waves with two hands, do they?’
She had a point, I had to admit, but I didn’t want to let her off the hook. ‘Yeah, well, maybe, but I still got into trouble because of you,’ I replied, after a bit.
Grace didn’t say what I would have said if anyone had blamed me for something – she just said, ‘I’m sorry about that!’
God, how pathetic. If the whole wasp story was true, then it definitely wasn’t her fault, but she still said sorry!
I felt a bit bad for her, and that she was so willing to apologise when it wasn’t actually her fault – according to her, that is.
When I saw Emz and A’isha later they told me Ms Drippy-Dry had made them admit they’d been up there with me. A’isha was panicking a bit in case Ms Drippy-Dry told her dad she’d taken off her hijab. But, they said, she blamed me for it all because apparently I am ‘a bad influence’ on them! I was a bit upset about that, because it wasn’t true that I’d made them go up there. In fact I had made sure they didn’t get caught as well as me. I told them it was Grace’s fault, really, that I’d got into trouble. I know that’s not completely right but, you know, I wanted them to know that it hadn’t been my fault that Ms Drippy-Dry had spotted me.
It felt quite cool that I had taken the blame for all three of us. It sort of makes me the leader of us, in a way, don’t you think? Like I’m the daringest, the bravest, the most … I dunno, just the most, yeah?
It’s the last day of school before half-term. Emz, A’isha and me have arranged to meet at the bus stop near school so we can all walk in together.
I’m going to suggest we always do this from now on when we go back after half-term. It’s nice us all walking into school together, side by side. It’s like we’re saying, ‘Here we are, check us out, the three coolest girls at school.’