Anyway, I wrongly decided that it was the right floor and walked straight into what I thought must be our classroom. I couldn’t be sure because the door looked exactly like all the other doors. The ENTIRE ROOM was full of kids much older than me – definitely fifteen plus – who all turned and stared at me at the same time.
I just froze. The expressions on their faces were as if I was drooling or my hair was on fire or I was topless or something. It felt like a billion years of me just standing there with them all gawping at me before I realised it actually wasn’t my classroom. Oh god, now every single person from that class is going to think I’m a complete idiot and realise that I’m new to the school too. It was horrible! I just stood there and they just stared at me.
I wanted to ask where my class was but my mouth, as if by magic, instantly went bone-dry and I just couldn’t get a single word out. I must have looked like a total moron. I tried to speak but my tongue just stuck to the roof of my mouth like it was the Sahara Desert in there.
Then a teacher walked into the room and had to push past me, as I was frozen to the spot (even though it felt like I was on fire!) She asked what my name and form were and I couldn’t answer because of my tongue being stuck to the roof of my mouth.
Eventually, I managed to speak, and instead of ‘Tabitha’, all I got out was ‘Tap’. I said my name was Tap! I told her my name was something from a sink! I didn’t mean to say Tap, obviously, I meant to say Tabitha, but somehow all that came out was the first bit Tab … and it didn’t sound like Tab, it definitely sounded like I’d said Tap!
I think I heard a few of them laugh, but the teacher shushed them, looked at me with her eyes wide open and repeated ‘Tap?’ in a tone of voice that was obviously meant to sound like she was in charge but, to me, sounded like she thought I was taking the mick.
I didn’t know what to do. In the end I was just so desperate to get away I shook my head, ran out and closed the door quickly behind me. Then I really did hear the whole class burst into laughter. I just wanted to die. I couldn’t believe I’d managed to walk into the completely wrong class AND then get my own name wrong. My own name. I’ve never said my own name wrong. Who says their own name wrong? I could have said ‘Tab’, which at least is short for Tabitha.
Brainwave – I’m going to call myself Tab (not Tap, obvs). It’s much cooler than Tabitha, and then hopefully everyone will just think they misheard my name. Tap isn’t that different to Tab, is it?
Mum and Dad hate anyone calling me Tab. ‘We’ve given you the beautiful name of Tabitha, which means gazelle, and you’ve shortened it to something that sounds like an option on a keyboard.’ (BTW I’ve seen pictures of me as a baby and I couldn’t have looked less like a girl who was going to end up being gazelle-like than if I’d been an actual watermelon.)
I stood in the corridor, with still no idea where my class was and now wanting to cry, which I knew I couldn’t do. Imagine being caught crying straight after saying your name was Tap – the first thing anyone with a brain would say would be, ‘Oh, I see, you’re a leaky tap!’
But then one good, really good, thing happened. This girl ran past me and suddenly stopped, turned back and said, ‘Aren’t you the new girl in my class?’
I didn’t recognise her so I just said, ‘Erm?’ and she said, ‘Yeah, come on, hurry up, we’re late’.
I was so grateful I nearly jumped for joy, and how uncool would that have been?
While we were running up the stairs (turns out our classroom is on the third floor, duh!) she said her name was Emz (she spelt it for me – cool spelling), short for Emma, and her parents hate it, just like mine hate Tab.
We got to the class at exactly the same time as the teacher was walking in, and although she did give us a bit of a sarky look, we weren’t technically late so Miss couldn’t say anything, so that was brilliant.
At lunch break I went into the canteen to eat my packed lunch – Mum is making me take one in every day. She said I can’t have school lunches cos they’re too expensive. They’re like two or three pounds – we can’t be that poor! But Mum says we are.
It was mobbed. It looked like the whole entire school was in there. I couldn’t see A’isha in the crowds, and I didn’t know if she’d invite me to sit at her table anyway if I did see her, so I just sat at the first empty seat I spotted.
I was sitting on my own, which was super embarrassing, especially if anyone who’d seen me call myself Tap had noticed me. I just stared at my sandwich, like a couple of pieces of bread and filling were the most interesting thing in the world, you know, so that I wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye. And then Emz walked right up, just like that, and said, ‘Shall I join you or can’t you bear to be torn away from that sandwich that you’re so madly in love with?’
She was smiling when she said it so I knew straightaway she was joking and not being horrible. I was so pleased she’d come up – it was the second time that day she’d saved me.
We chatted away. She’s an only-child and actually said about herself, ‘I’m your classic spoilt only-child. I can get my parents to buy me anything I want – they are so pathetic, a right pair of pushovers.’ She was laughing when she told me this, so I don’t think she thinks they really are pathetic.
Lucky her, though, eh? How weird to have parents that will let you have anything you want.
And then, out of nowhere, A’isha came up and said, ‘So, your real name’s Tap, is it?’
I didn’t know what to say. Emz looked at A’isha like she didn’t understand what was going on, and then at me as if I should explain. I had some sandwich in my mouth at the time, so I couldn’t say anything immediately. I just sort of froze again, and even after the bit of sandwich had gone down I couldn’t think of what to say.
I didn’t want to tell them the whole story – it was so awful, I thought they might start teasing me. I just looked down at my sandwich. Then A’isha, plonking herself down at the table, said, ‘I heard what happened when you barged into 11E – only the baddest-teacher-in-school’s class. Hmm, nifty move for a newbie! Did you hear what she did, Emz?’ And then A’isha told her the story.
Emz started laughing and I suddenly realised they both thought I’d told the teacher my name was Tap on purpose to annoy her! And even though I hadn’t, it felt really good that they were laughing at something I’d done.
This is so great! They think I’m funny even though I wasn’t actually trying to be funny. I used to try to be funny back at Greyfriars and sometimes the other girls did laugh and stuff but it was so strict at that place that if one of the teachers there had ever thought I was being cheeky I’d have been sent to the headmistress straight away.
It’s brilliant – turns out Emz and A’isha are already best mates (which has got to mean Emz is as cool as A’isha, doesn’t it?) and now they think I’m the sort of cool girl who is cheeky to teachers!
I’m definitely going to think something else up to do on purpose next time. It can’t be too naughty – I don’t want to end up getting excluded! I could just do some of the stuff I do to Mum that winds her up so much, like pretending I can’t hear her when she’s asking me to do something, or that I don’t understand certain words that I actually do understand so she has to explain them again and again and then I pretend I still don’t get it.
Ooh, that’d be a really easy one to do in class – ask the teacher what something means and then just keep saying, ‘I don’t understand, can you explain it again, Miss?’ I’d have to be careful not to end up looking like a moron, but I’m sure I can come up with something.
Mum’s always moaning about me on her blog – it’s got some name she thinks is funny but really is just depressing. Mum actually wrote a whole long thing about how her daughter (me!!) didn’t understand anything and was asking advice from her readers if she should take me for a hearing test or some sort of IQ test. It was hilarious! Mum thinks I ask her things over and over again because I might be backward or slightly hard of hearing! I get brill
iant ideas for how to wind Mum up just by reading her blog – if only she knew!
Oh, man! (I got that off A’isha. She says, ‘Oh, man,’ before she says practically everything. I like it much better than, ‘Oh, god,’ or, ‘OMG’, but we still say those too. ‘Oh, man,’ sounds really, really cool and a bit American high schooly.) Anyway … oh man, today was COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY BRILLIANT.
Emz and A’isha were already sitting at a table together in class when I walked in. I didn’t think I could just walk over and plonk myself down with them like I was all, ‘Take it as read that I assume you’ve now let me into your twosome and I’m just going to sit with you two forever.’ They might have given me horrible looks, like, ‘What the hell are you doing sitting down at our table? We didn’t invite you. Just because we had lunch with you doesn’t mean we’re bezzies all of a sudden.’
I felt a bit panicky, and didn’t know what to do. I looked around to see where else there was to sit, but then, thank god, they immediately both beckoned me over, completely naturally and matey, like they meant it.
I was soooo pleased … and relieved. I don’t know what I’d have done if they had ignored me.
There is another girl, Grace, who’s smiled at me and, on the first day, without me asking her to, showed me where the loos were when I was desperate to go and couldn’t find them. But she’s a bit, I don’t know, geeky. It’s like she is deliberately trying to look geeky. She always wears her school cardigan done up – all the buttons – and she wears the skirt at the proper length and absolutely no one here does that as far as I can tell so far. Her hair is cut like a dolly’s, with a big, chunky fringe – it looks like someone put a pudding bowl on her head and then cut around that with a pair of garden shears. And she wears a hairband. A hairband?! Who wears a hairband? It’s not even to keep her fringe off her face, which I suppose I could understand. She wears it behind her fringe as an accessory, like she means it. Even the worst proper-pony girls at Greyfriars didn’t wear hairbands.
I don’t think Grace has got many friends. I haven’t seen her with anyone in particular yet. I doubt anyone who wears a hairband, if they’re under sixty, has many friends.
I’m glad she showed me where the loos were, and didn’t laugh at me for being new and not knowing, but I am not going to make friends with her just because of that. I won’t be horrible to her or anything, but if I am going to be cool here then I need cool friends, obvs, and cool people do not wear hairbands. End of.
Today, second lesson, we were supposed to have ethics, culture and society (it was called religious education at Greyfriars, which is a bit clearer, I think, but this is supposed to be more ‘inclusive of all cultures …’ whatever that means!) but the teacher, Mr Long (hah, hah, apparently he’s actually quite short) was not in, so we had a supply teacher called Mr Oliver.
He walked into our class and was all bossy and strict even before we’d got our books out. He barked, ‘Right, I won’t stand for any mucking about. Today we’re looking at Islam.’ So, A’isha puts her hand up and said, ‘Sir, I’m a Muslim,’ which made a few people in the class snigger a bit.
A’isha gave them a sort of shut-up look but you could see she wasn’t being really serious because she knows everyone knows she’s not really that Muslimy. She eats sausages when she’s round other people’s houses and only wears the headscarf because of her dad (and because it means she doesn’t have to wash her hair every day, she told me.)
Mr Oliver looked a bit confused by this, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to know anything about anything until he’d told us.
I hate it when teachers think only they know anything about anything and we kids, their pupils, are like empty bucket-brains waiting to be filled up by their genius! Just like Luke!
And then he asked, like he was testing her, which I suppose he was, ‘Okay, perhaps you can help us out then – which country has the largest population of Muslims?’
The whole class went silent. We all knew this wasn’t really a proper learning-about-Islam question. It was more of a I-know-more-than-you-know-even-though-you’re-a-Muslim type of question. Poor A’isha looked like she didn’t have a clue. But I did! Amazingly, I knew the answer! It had been a question on some nerd’s game that Luke (of course) had been playing with Mum, and she’d been super impressed because he’d known the answer.
‘Indonesia!’ I called out, without putting my hand up.
Mr Oliver looked at me, surprised. So did everyone else. He said, ‘That’s right, well done, er … what’s your name?’
Now, I don’t actually know why I did this and I definitely hadn’t planned to, but because I thought he’d been a bit mean to A’isha and I wanted to pay him back, I said, ‘It’s Tap, sir. My name is Tap.’
I could feel the whole class looking at me like they were thinking, ‘What are you doing?’ and I saw Emz and A’isha look at each other and smile. It felt brilliant.
Mr Oliver screwed his eyes up really tight and looked at me so hard I thought I’d blurt out the truth right there, immediately.
‘Your name is Tap?’
‘Yes, sir, Tap.’
‘Your parents gave you the name of a kitchen appliance, Tap?’ he sneered. The more he looked and sounded like he knew I was taking the mick, the stronger I felt I had to keep the joke going. I couldn’t really back down there and then, could I? I mean, once you’ve started you’ve sort of got to keep going, otherwise you’d lose face and everyone would know you were completely chicken.
And then it came to me – I said in my most super-innocent golly-gosh-Pony-Club voice, ‘Yes, sir, they chose that name because my dad’s a plumber.’
At that the whole class whooped and laughed really hard and some boys even banged their tables with their fists. I felt scared but excited at the same time. I was scared that Mr Oliver was going to know I was making this all up and punish me, but so excited that I’d made everyone laugh. Everyone! Even people I’d never spoken to … which was most of the class.
It’s not like I’d done something really naughty and bad. I’d just told a tiny white lie. Not even a lie, really, because Tab and Tap are so similar-sounding he could easily have misheard me saying Tab. Okay, so my dad’s not really a plumber. (If only!) I just thought of saying he was, on the spot. How brilliant was that?!
I’m going to have to think of more funny things to say and do at school so that everyone keeps thinking I’m a laugh. It is sooooo cool.
I spent the weekend sorting out my bedroom properly. I’ve arranged all my stuff from Ivy House, including my favourite chair, which Dad made me before he started drinking so much he wasn’t even able to sit on a chair, never mind make one!
It fits perfectly under the desk Gran’s put in here so I can, as she sweetly said, ‘Do homework in privacy.’ Hah, hah. It’s not really a desk, it’s an old kitchen table, I think. It must be – one of its two drawers had a huge plastic syringe-thingy in it and I think that’s for basting a chicken … Or else it’s for something much more disgusting, which I am not going to think about or even write down, but learnt about in biology and has to do with how lesbian couples have babies. That’s completely mank – super mank, actually – so extra mank it’s mankenstein!
In fact it must have been a kitchen table, because I’ve just discovered a packet of biscuits in the drawer – unopened (the biscuits, not the drawer, obvs). The sell-by date was seven months ago but they taste fine. Must try not to eat them all, though. I don’t want to be the piggy fat one at school. In fact, I must cut down on snacks. Not like, today, or even tomorrow, but soon … perhaps when I’ve finished these biscuits.
My room’s not huge but it’s quite nice. It’s at the back, overlooking the garden, which is so overgrown and messy you could bury a dead body in there and no one would ever find it. Perhaps that’s where Gran’s husband is, and not in Canada like everyone thinks.
I’ve got shelves on either side of a little fireplace for all those books Mum keeps giving me that I don’t read, and
then my bed is behind the door. That’s cool because it means I can see whoever comes in before they see me, so I can pretend to be asleep or dead or whatever, if necessary.
Also, I can stand up on the bed and hide behind the door, if I really squish myself up against the hinges, so when you walk in it looks like my room is empty. I can jump out on top of Luke if he dares to enter my room without permission. That’ll so freak him out. He hates being jumped on out of the blue – crybaby.
THIS IS TOP SECRET: I’ve wedged Muzzy in between my mattress and the wall, so you can’t see her if you just walk into my room, unless you know she’s there. Which no one is going to, okay? I know I’m a bit grown up to still have the fluffy toy cat I’ve had since I was a baby, but I can’t exactly throw her away, can I? And I don’t want to put her in a cupboard as if I don’t actually love her. And I do sort of like having her with me at night, sometimes. It’s not like I suck my thumb or carry around my blankie with me all the time like that pathetic baby Luke does. And it’s good to have someone to talk to when you’re on your own.
Anyway, Muzzy’s in her special hiding place and I don’t have to tell anyone, ever, where she is. I will just know she’s right there.
The completely best thing about my room is … it’s got a lock that works! An actual key that turns in an actual lock that actually works!!! And Gran said, not realising clearly what this meant to me, ‘Be careful with that key because it’s the only one.’ THE ONLY ONE! Mum had a go at Gran when she noticed, and even suggested she keep hold of the key, but Gran, of course, just told her not to be silly and said, ‘Why would any thirteen-year-old girl even think of locking herself inside her bedroom?’ Erm, hello, why wouldn’t she, more like?!
The Rise and Rise of Tabitha Baird Page 2