Sunita’s Secret

by Narinder Dhami

  It was amazing to see how quickly everyone became involved as a wave of good deeds began to sweep across the school. Wherever you went, people were talking about what had been done for them, and who could have done it. I had never seen anything like it. Something amazing had happened to me too. When I lost the folder with my English project inside it, someone had found it and secretly put it back in my locker. Dizzy with relief, I tried to thank first Zara, and then Henry, but they both insisted that it wasn’t them. Then, slowly, I realized that someone else had done a good deed, just for me. The thought made my heart sing.

  The good deeds were gathering force and getting bigger and stronger every single day, and it made me feel wonderful, I had to admit. I’d started this. Me. No one else. It didn’t matter that Celina and the others still took every opportunity going to have a dig at me, make snidey little comments. They couldn’t stop me feeling happy, knowing that I’d started something amazing. I was sure Mum would be proud of me, although I hadn’t told her yet. It was her birthday in a few weeks’ time and I knew I didn’t have the money to buy her a proper present, so I thought I’d tell her all about it then. It would a special kind of gift.

  I was about to turn into the classroom when I heard footsteps coming from the other direction. Mr Arora? I whisked the book I was holding behind my back, just as Amber Dhillon came round the corner.

  ‘Oh, hi, Sunita,’ she said, ‘I was just looking for my uncle – you know, Mr Arora. You haven’t seen him, have you?’

  ‘I think he went to the staff room,’ I replied as casually as I could, still keeping the book out of sight.

  Amber sighed. ‘That means he’s fallen asleep again. He’s supposed to be taking us home.’

  ‘Is your auntie’s baby still keeping you awake?’ I asked with sympathy.

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Amber rolled her eyes. ‘I mean, we only live next door, for goodness’ sake, and we hardly get a wink of sleep. Little Simi has got the Dhillon lungs, all right.’ She smiled at me. ‘See you later.’

  I watched her safely out of sight round the corner, and then went into the deserted classroom. I cleared a space on Mr Arora’s desk and laid the book down, right at the front where he couldn’t miss it. It was more than a book really. There was a pocket at the back of it which held two CDs. The book was called Stop the Screaming and Start Sleeping!

  One of Mum’s friends had bought it for her just after she’d had the twins. It was full of hints and tips about getting your baby to sleep, as well as CDs of soothing music. It had helped. After a couple of weeks the twins had started sleeping, and I’d stopped yawning my way through the day at school. I was hoping it would do the same for Mr Arora and his wife.

  I slipped out of the classroom and headed for the playground, where Henry and Zara were waiting for me.

  ‘Mission accomplished,’ I said, taking my bag from Zara. ‘I hope it works.’

  ‘I think secret good deeds for the teachers are a great idea,’ Henry said enthusiastically.

  Zara groaned. ‘Do we have to?’

  ‘No, we don’t have to,’ Henry replied sternly. ‘We want to. That’s the difference.’

  ‘Oh, you two are a pain in the backside,’ Zara muttered. But I noticed she didn’t say she wasn’t going to join in.

  ‘Shall we run for the next bus?’ Henry suggested, picking up his bag. ‘I want to get the potatoes peeled for dinner before my mum comes home from work.’

  ‘Nice one, Henry.’ I grinned, slapping him on the back. Zara just sniffed.

  A loud bang from behind made us all jump. We turned to see the Kennedys’ bright pink camper van drawing up at the kerb.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Zara muttered grumpily.

  Zara’s mum was driving, and the kids were stuffed in the back as usual. She leaned over and stuck her head out of the passenger window.

  ‘Hi, love,’ she called. ‘I thought we’d go straight to Gran and Gramps’ place from school. We’ve got lots to do, so it’s best to make an early start.’

  I glanced at Zara. To my surprise, she was bright red.

  ‘Lots to do?’ I asked, raising my eyebrows.

  ‘Don’t start,’ Zara snapped. She glared at her mum. ‘I need to go home and change.’

  ‘I’ve brought some clothes for you to change into,’ her mum replied. ‘Come on, Zara, it was your idea to decorate Gran and Gramps’ living room while they’re on holiday. A secret good deed, you said, and a lovely surprise for them when they get back.’

  Henry and I slowly turned to stare at Zara. How we managed to keep our faces straight, I don’t know.

  ‘All right, all right, all right!’ Zara muttered, avoiding our gaze as she stomped over to the van and climbed in.

  ‘Bye then, Zara,’ Henry called. ‘Have a good evening!’

  ‘Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do,’ I added.

  We burst out laughing as the camper van moved off, and Zara shot us a poisonous look.

  ‘I always knew she was up for it!’ Henry chortled. ‘All that sarcasm is just a load of hot air.’

  ‘Wait till tomorrow,’ I said with a grin. ‘We’re never going to let her forget this—’

  I broke off. A woman holding two children by the hand was walking down the road towards the school. It looked like Mum and the twins, but, of course, it couldn’t be.

  It was.

  ‘Can we run for the bus?’ Henry was hopping anxiously from foot to foot. ‘I really want to get home before my mum.’

  ‘You go.’ Mum and the twins here? ‘I’ve – er – got something to do first.’

  ‘See you.’ Henry flapped his hand at me and shot off towards the bus stop. He seemed to be a lot lighter on his feet these days.

  ‘Sunita! Sunita!’

  The twins had spotted me, and were pulling Mum along like two puppies on leads. I ran towards them. My school bag was heavy on my shoulder, but my heart was as light as a feather.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked as the twins flung themselves at me.

  ‘We went to Best Burgers with Megan and her mum,’ Debbie yelled excitedly. ‘Then we came to meet you.’

  ‘Yeah, and we’ve got you a present, Sunita.’ Davey pulled his hand out of his pocket and solemnly presented me with a sachet of tomato ketchup.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I’ll have it with my dinner tonight.’ I glanced at my mum. She looked completely relaxed, even with people milling up and down the main road around us. ‘Did you have a good time?’

  Mum smiled. ‘We did. It was a shame you couldn’t come too, though. Was that your friend Henry we saw running for the bus?’

  I nodded. ‘That’s him.’

  ‘Funny,’ Mum went on as we walked along, ‘I got the impression from you that he was quite a lot bigger.’

  ‘He used to be,’ I replied. ‘But I think he might be losing a bit of weight.’

  ‘Mum, why can’t we get the bus home?’ Debbie asked grumpily. ‘I don’t like walking.’

  ‘Sorry, honey.’ Mum shook her head. ‘I used up all our money in the burger bar.’ She turned to me. ‘Even then we had to share fries and a milkshake. It was a bit embarrassing, Sunita.’

  ‘I bet Mrs Rice didn’t mind,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, she was lovely,’ said Mum. ‘She bought me a cup of coffee. But we can’t carry on like this. I’m going to have to get some extra money, one way or another.’

  Davey stopped in the middle of the pavement, scowling. ‘I can’t make my feet work any more,’ he pouted. ‘They’re too tired.’

  ‘Come on,’ Mum said encouragingly, taking his hand. ‘Let’s sing all our favourite songs, and we’ll be home before you know it.’

  We sang our way home. It was a long walk, and even Mum and I were feeling the strain when we finally reached our street.

  ‘Wouldn’t it be great if there was another cake on the doormat?’ Debbie asked wistfully, as we walked towards the house.

  There wasn’t a cake. Not today. But there was som
ething else.

  We all stopped at the gate and stared.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ Mum said faintly.

  Mrs Brodie, our next-door neighbour, was perched on our doorstep. She was warmly wrapped up in coat, scarf, gloves and boots, and there was a flask and a half-eaten packet of biscuits on the ground beside her. She was knitting something in dark blue wool.

  ‘It’s the witch!’ Debbie whispered, clutching my hand tighter.

  Mum and I blushed.

  ‘Don’t worry, my dear,’ Mrs Brodie replied. She had a rich, rounded, Scottish voice which seemed to roll off her tongue like cream. ‘I only use my powers for good.’ She got to her feet, rolled up her knitting and put it in her bag. ‘Well, I’m pleased to meet you at last. We seem to keep missing each other, so I decided to camp out and wait for you. I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Mum managed to say.

  Mrs Brodie came towards us and shook hands, first with Mum, then with me, while the twins hid behind us and peered cautiously at her. Tall and thin, Mrs Brodie looked as if she didn’t have a spare ounce of fat anywhere. Her eyes were a very bright, clear blue, the kind that search right into you.

  ‘Well, now,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘Someone has been doing some lovely, secret things for me over the last few weeks. I think it’s the fairies, myself.’

  Giggles came from behind me and Mum.

  ‘Perhaps it’s the pixies,’ Mrs Brodie went on. ‘Or the leprechauns.’

  ‘It wasn’t the leppery corns,’ Debbie chuckled, peeking out from behind me. ‘It was us.’

  ‘You!’ Mrs Brodie bent down until she was at the twins’ level. ‘Are you sure you’re not pixies in disguise?’

  ‘No, but I’ve got a Spiderman costume,’ Davey added, edging out from behind Mum.

  ‘Will you show it to me?’ Mrs Brodie asked.

  Davey nodded. Mum and I watched in amazement as first Davey, then Debbie slipped their hands into Mrs Brodie’s.

  ‘Would you like to come in for a cup of tea, Mrs Brodie?’ Mum said, glancing at me. We were both smiling.

  ‘Oh, do please call me Susan.’ Mrs Brodie smiled herself, broadly. ‘I was hoping you might say that. I’ve a home-made chocolate cake in my bag.’

  ‘Did you make the other cake?’ Debbie asked, wide-eyed. ‘Was it magic?’

  ‘I mixed a lot of good luck into it for you,’ Mrs Brodie replied solemnly.

  ‘Maybe Dad will come home then,’ said Davey.

  ‘Maybe he will.’ Mrs Brodie glanced over the twins’ heads and nodded kindly at Mum and me.

  We went inside with our new friend. When just one or two people are mean and spiteful to you, you can sometimes forget how kind and generous almost everyone else can be.

  How good did I feel?

  I can’t describe it. School was buzzing. Wherever Henry, Zara and I went, we heard people discussing the latest good deeds. From snooty Year 12s and 13s, who thought they were a cut above the rest of us because they didn’t have to wear uniform, right down to the tiniest Year 7 pupil, everyone was involved. If they weren’t doing good deeds themselves, other people were doing it for them. Or they were, at the very least, discussing the good deeds. Teachers were talking about how they’d found their desks tidied and their whiteboards cleaned and the bookshelves put into alphabetical order and their car windscreens wiped. It was the nicest kind of epidemic.

  However, there were some people who didn’t quite get the idea behind the secret good deeds. You might be able to take a guess who they are.

  ‘Someone’s put this beautiful new lipstick in my locker!’ Chloe Maynard screeched, prancing into the classroom one morning the following week. Everyone looked round, including me, Zara and Henry. Chloe was glowing like she’d won the lottery. ‘Isn’t it gorgeous?’

  ‘A lipstick?’ Zara sniffed. ‘Like she really needs that. It’s a pity someone didn’t leave a brain in her locker instead.’

  Celina, Danielle and Jyoti gathered around Chloe, ooh-ing and ah-ing.

  ‘Can you guess who left it there?’ Celina asked with a knowing smirk.

  ‘No, I haven’t got a clue!’ announced Chloe.

  ‘She never spoke a truer word,’ Zara said tartly.

  Celina giggled. ‘It was me, Chloe, you idiot!’

  ‘You!’ Chloe shrieked. ‘Oh, Cee! Thanks ever so much!’

  ‘I think the idea of secret good deeds has gone right over Celina’s head,’ whispered Henry.

  I glanced over at Celina and Chloe, who had thrown their arms around each other dramatically, and grinned. ‘No, do you think so?’

  ‘What’re you laughing at?’ Jack Browning had suddenly appeared at my elbow. I jumped, not realizing he had been so close.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said, staring him straight in the eye.

  ‘You were laughing at Celina and Chloe.’ Jack was frightening close up because he was so tall. I tried not to let my eyes drop. ‘What have you got to laugh about?’

  ‘We were just chatting,’ Henry said bravely, but squeakily.

  ‘Yes, so why don’t you go away as quickly as you can?’ Zara said with a yawn.

  ‘Shut up, beetroot head.’ Jack’s gaze was still locked on mine. With one swift move of his hand he grabbed my hair and yanked it back. I cried out in surprise and pain. ‘Now say sorry to Cee and Clo.’

  ‘Jack Browning!’

  The words curled across the classroom like the crack of a whiplash. Mr Arora stood in the doorway, holding the register. His brows were drawn down, and there was an expression on his face I’d never seen before. He looked fierce.

  Jack immediately let go of my hair, flushing bright red.

  ‘Go and sit down, Jack,’ Mr Arora said coldly, his voice cutting through the shocked silence. ‘You will report for detention at lunch time every day this week.’

  ‘But, sir—’ Jack began.

  ‘Sit down.’

  Everyone in the classroom jumped at Mr Arora’s tone.

  ‘Are you all right, Sunita?’ he asked in a gentler voice.

  I nodded dumbly. We all stared as Mr Arora strode to his seat, sat down and snapped the register open. There was something different about him. He still looked pale and a little tired, but the dark circles under his eyes were gone. I wondered if the book and CDs had helped.

  ‘Serves that idiot Jack Browning right,’ Zara said with satisfaction as we lined up for assembly. ‘He’s got away with murder since term began.’

  ‘Not any more,’ Henry said, also with deep satisfaction. Jack was slumped in his seat, glaring at me. Celina and her friends were also giving me black looks.

  I didn’t say anything as we walked down the corridor to the hall. We weren’t supposed to talk on the way to and from assembly, but that wasn’t the reason why I was quiet. I was listening. As classes converged on the hall from every direction, all around me was a tidal wave of secret good deeds.

  ‘Somebody tidied my locker.’

  ‘Someone found my purse and put it on my chair.’

  ‘I don’t know who it was, but somebody hid a copy of that CD I couldn’t afford in my locker.’

  ‘I thought my Game Boy was broken, but now it’s been fixed.’

  ‘Someone helped me with my maths homework.’

  I felt as buoyant as if I was being lifted up and carried along on a wave of good will. As our class filed into the hall, I overheard Mrs Parkinson and Mrs Holland speculating about who had tidied up the English cupboard. Mr Hernandez was practically dancing around the hall with glee, telling Mrs Kirke how someone had cleaned the mud off his car bumper. I tried not to smile too widely. As Mrs Bright marched into the hall, blonde bob swinging purposefully, I wondered what she thought of it all.

  To my surprise, I found out at the end of assembly. After discussing arrangements for the Christmas Fair, which was coming up in a few weeks, Mrs Bright changed tack abruptly.

  ‘Finally, I wish to speak to you about a matter which has been brought to my attention over the la
st few weeks,’ she said briskly. ‘It concerns these “secret good deeds” which appear to be happening all over the school.’

  A rustle of excited interest rippled around the hall, teachers and pupils alike. I sat up straighter and glanced from Henry to Zara, who were on either side of me.

  ‘While I applaud the sentiment behind these good deeds,’ Mrs Bright went on, ‘I feel that, on health and safety grounds, we cannot have people sneaking around the school doing things secretly, even when they are doing kindnesses for others. So my message to you is’ – she cleared her throat, looking slightly embarrassed as the rest of us looked extremely confused – ‘keep doing good deeds, but do not be sneaky about it.’

  There was a murmur of puzzled dissatisfaction as Mrs Bright swept out of the hall.

  ‘So what does that mean?’ Henry wanted to know. ‘Are we allowed to carry on doing them or not?’

  ‘As long as we don’t do it secretly, apparently,’ Zara said scornfully. ‘But that’s the fun part.’

  Henry and I turned to stare at her.

  ‘All right, I admit it,’ Zara said irritably. ‘You’ve converted me. Just don’t go on about it.’

  I had to admit that I felt a tiny bit deflated. I thought Mrs Bright would be pleased, but she didn’t seem completely sure it was a good thing.

  I’m happy to say that everyone else did, though. No one took the slightest notice of Mrs Bright. We all carried on ‘sneaking’ around the school doing more good deeds. And when I counted up all the ones I’d heard about at the end of the day, it was the most yet.

  That evening, as I walked home from the bus stop with Henry, I wondered what Mrs Bright would think if she knew that I was the person who’d started it all. Me, the daughter of a thief …

  ‘Why don’t you come in, Sunita,’ Henry suggested as we neared his house. ‘We could do our homework together. And you could stay for tea.’ He grinned at me. ‘We’re having a nice healthy salad.’