The Worst Thing About My Sister

by Jacqueline Wilson

  After Dad had shown Jaydene’s mum out of the front door, he came bounding up the stairs to me. ‘Guess what!’ he said.

  ‘Jaydene’s mum’s booked a holiday?’

  ‘No. Better than that!’

  ‘She wants Mum to make one of her frilly dresses?’ I said. ‘Oh, poor Jaydene.’

  ‘No, no, she doesn’t want Mum to work for her. She wants me! She took a shine to your shelf units and wants me to do something similar in Jaydene’s bedroom. I explained that I’m not a proper carpenter or anything, but she seems to think I’m the bee’s knees. She asked how much it would cost and I suggested what’s actually quite a cheeky sum, but she seems very happy with it. Oh, Marty, what a turn-up! Mum will be so pleased.’

  ‘Can you text Mum again, just to see if Melissa is still all right?’ I asked.

  So Dad texted: Melissa? and Mum texted back: Wide awake and talking!

  Dad gave me a happy hug. I felt very happy too that Melissa really did sound better – and very scared in case she was talking about me, telling Mum that I’d kicked her off the ladder.

  Dad made us beans on toast for lunch, usually one of my favourites, but I was so anxious it was a struggle to get it all down. Then we set off for hospital again. I had Baba carefully wrapped up in a little blanket to give to Melissa. She had a head and all four limbs again, though she still looked a bit limp and seedy. I felt limp and seedy too. I hoped I wasn’t going to sick up the baked beans straight away. I held a long conversation with Mighty Mart in my head, wanting her to use her superpowers to make Melissa absolutely one hundred per cent better – apart from one teeny tiny memory lapse so she couldn’t remember a thing about this morning.

  It took us even longer to find a space in the hospital car park as so many more people were arriving for the two o’clock visiting time. Then we had another long trek down blue routes and yellow routes, this time to find the children’s wing of the hospital.

  There was a long corridor to the children’s ward. Most of it was just dingy cream and brown paint – but one section at the end was painted like bright blue sky with white fluffy clouds and a rainbow. A girl with short spiky hair, wearing very stained jeans, was up a ladder painting a flock of bright green birds.

  ‘Oh, wow!’ I said, suddenly distracted. ‘I didn’t know you were allowed to paint on walls!’

  ‘Don’t you dare try it at home, Marty,’ said Dad.

  The girl grinned at me from her ladder. ‘It’s fun,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve never seen green birds,’ I said. ‘They’re really cool.’

  ‘They’re parakeets – but I might paint all different-coloured birds just for the fun of it. Pink birds, orange birds, purple birds. Multi-coloured birds.’

  ‘Tartan birds, like my boots!’ I said.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Marty!’ Dad sighed, but the girl looked pleased.

  ‘Great idea,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, our Marty’s full of those,’ said Dad. ‘Come on now, let’s find Melissa.’

  My tummy started churning again. We went through the swing doors into the ward and peered along the rows of beds. I looked for a pale face and a limp body lying under sheets. I was astonished to spot Melissa down at the end, propped up on pillows, pink-cheeked and smiling.

  ‘Oh, Melissa!’ I said, and I ran headlong down the ward and threw my arms round her.

  ‘Careful, careful, Martina, she’s still a bit fragile!’ said Mum, but she didn’t sound cross.

  ‘Oh, Melissa, you really are better!’ I said, hugging her hard.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine now, Marty! You’re squashing me!’ said Melissa. She felt for the blanket. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I brought you Baba,’ I said, making her head peep out of the blanket. ‘I sewed her all up again. I’m so sorry,’ I whispered.

  ‘She doesn’t want that awful grubby old thing in hospital,’ said Mum.

  ‘Yes I do,’ said Melissa, taking Baba, still wrapped in the blanket, and tucking her down under the sheet.

  ‘I’m so pleased you’re looking perky again, sweetheart,’ said Dad, giving Melissa a hug too. ‘You gave us such a fright. I’m going to fix that ladder so it can’t possibly slip again.’

  ‘Yes, how exactly did it happen, Melissa?’ Mum asked, holding her hand.

  I swallowed. Melissa looked at Mum. She looked at Dad. She looked at me, long and hard. She remembered all right. There was a roaring in my ears as I waited for her answer. The baked beans bubbled in my tummy. This was it. Melissa always always told on me. She was going to tell on me now, and Mum and Dad would hate me for ever.

  Melissa was still looking me straight in the eye. She saw my look of agony. She hesitated. Then gave me a very tiny wink.

  ‘I don’t really know what happened. I just slipped,’ she said.

  ‘But why were you going up the ladder in the first place?’ said Mum. ‘It’s Martina’s bunk on top.’

  ‘Oh, we were just playing,’ said Melissa. ‘Mum, I feel so much better. I haven’t got a headache. I don’t feel sick. Can’t I just go home now?’

  She chatted away to Mum and Dad while I sat there in a daze. She hadn’t told on me! Melissa might not feel sick now, but I did. Not just sick with relief. Really sick.

  ‘Mum, I need the toilet,’ I said urgently.

  ‘It’s along the corridor, halfway down,’ said Mum. ‘Shall I take you?’

  ‘I’ll find it,’ I mumbled, and hurtled off. I didn’t even have time to nod to the girl up the ladder. I shot into the Ladies in the nick of time and threw up. I did it very neatly down the toilet, and then I rinsed my mouth out at the basin. I stared at myself in the mirror. It was all right! Melissa was better – and she hadn’t told on me! She didn’t want to get me into trouble. Oh, I loved loved loved my sister so much!

  I did a little dance of joy as I came out of the Ladies. The girl up the ladder laughed at me.

  ‘They are seriously cool boots,’ she said. She beckoned to me. ‘Come and look.’

  I ran up to her and saw she’d painted a little bird with red and yellow checks, exactly like my Converse boots.

  ‘Oh, I love it!’ I said.

  ‘It was your idea, not mine,’ she said. ‘What else shall I paint? I want to make it a really bright happy picture with heaps of things for children to look at.’

  I stared at the blue sky. ‘You could paint Batman and Superman and Spider Man all swooping about the sky,’ I suggested.

  ‘Excellent!’ she said.

  ‘And – and maybe Mighty Mart?’ I added breathlessly.

  ‘Who’s Mighty Mart?’

  ‘She’s my own superhero,’ I said. ‘I made her up. I do lots of comics about her.’

  ‘Brilliant! What does she look like, then?’

  ‘Well … a bit like me, but she’s much older and she’s much taller too, and she’s got big arms to bash all the bad people and long legs so that she can leap right up into the sky,’ I said, demonstrating.

  ‘You draw her for me,’ said the girl, offering me a pencil.

  ‘On the wall?’ I asked. My hand hovered in the air. I so wanted to. ‘But what if I mess it up? I’m quite good at drawing, but not as good as you.’

  ‘Why not give it a go? You could do it very lightly, so that if you don’t like it, I could always paint right over it, easy-peasy. Go on, give it a go, Marty.’

  ‘How do you know my name?’

  ‘I heard your dad calling you. My name’s Mattie – almost the same.’

  I took the pencil and started drawing very, very lightly on the wall, holding my breath. But Mighty Mart sprang straight out of the pencil tip the way she always did. I knew her so well, my line didn’t wobble once.

  ‘Looking good,’ said Mattie. She scratched her spiky hair.

  ‘Whoops! You’ve got a bit of blue paint in your hair now,’ I said.

  ‘Oh well, I’ll just kid on it’s wacky hair dye,’ said Mattie. ‘Hey, Marty, that’s really good. Mighty Mart is flying high!’

/>   ‘Maybe I could do a Mighty Matt too,’ I said. ‘Is your name really Mattie?’

  ‘No, it’s Matilda, but I hate it. No one calls me that, except my mum when she’s cross with me.’

  ‘I’m Martina. My mum calls me that all the time – though actually she’s often cross with me too. I can’t believe this. You’re like my twin sister, but bigger. Oh! I’d better get back to my real sister,’ I said.

  Just then Dad came out into the corridor. ‘There you are, Marty! I should have guessed,’ he said.

  ‘She’s been helping me,’ said Mattie. ‘Maybe she can come and help again when you’re visiting her sister?’

  ‘I think she’ll be going home tomorrow,’ said Dad.

  ‘Oh!’ I said, drooping. I almost hoped that Melissa would have a little relapse. Almost – but not really.

  ‘Well, never mind, Marty. I’m hoping to be around town quite a lot, painting murals,’ said Mattie. ‘I left art college last year but I’ve never sold a single painting, so I’m giving this a go instead. I’m trying to get established. I’m doing this for the hospital for nothing. It’s hard setting up your own business nowadays.’

  ‘Tell me about it!’ said Dad.

  He liked Mattie a lot too. He told her all about his travel service and how it hadn’t really worked, but maybe now he’d start up as a carpenter designing shelf units. He told her about Mum and her new dressmaking career too.

  I didn’t join in much. I was too busy concentrating. Mattie had lent me her paintbrush and I was ever so, ever so carefully painting in Mighty Mart’s orange cape and blue tunic and red tights and tartan Converse boots. These were particularly tricky, but I didn’t go over the lines once.

  ‘For heaven’s sake!’ said Mum, coming out into the corridor too. ‘I thought you’d both got lost. What are you doing, Martina?’

  ‘She’s helping me with my mural,’ said Mattie. ‘Oh wow, Marty, she looks absolutely wonderful!’

  We stared at Mighty Mart in all her carefully coloured glory.

  ‘It’s Mighty Mart!’ said Dad, laughing. ‘She looks great, Marty!’

  Mum walked right up to the wall, having a closer look. ‘Did you really paint her all yourself, Martina?’ she asked.

  I nodded proudly.

  ‘Well, it’s very good,’ she said. ‘Very, very good. No scribbles, no smudges – it looks almost professional! Though why you always have to draw that silly comic character beats me.’

  ‘I love Mighty Mart,’ said Mattie. She fished in the back pocket of her jeans and found a card. ‘There – it’s got my phone number and email. I just thought – maybe I could run some art workshops for kids in the holidays? Maybe Marty would like to come along?’

  Maybe?!

  We went back to see Melissa and I talked non-stop about my new friend, Mattie, and my brilliant new mural-painting career.

  Melissa rolled her eyes. ‘You must absolutely promise not to paint on our walls, Marty,’ she said. ‘If I find even the tiniest speck of Mighty Mart anywhere, you’ll be very, very sorry.’

  ‘I won’t, I promise,’ I said. I looked her straight in the eye. ‘I owe you big-time, Melissa. I’m going to keep our bedroom extra-tidy now, and I’ll put all my clothes away and keep my animals in the cupboard. I’m going to be the best sister ever, Melissa, you’ll see.’

  Melissa and Mum and Dad all laughed at me – but I really meant it. When I went to bed that night, I put my socks and knickers in the laundry basket, and kissed Jumper and Basil and Polly and Half-Percy goodnight and tucked them up comfortably in the cupboard. I laid Patches and Gee-Up and Sugarlump and Merrylegs and Dandelion and Starlight down to sleep on their shelf, making them all lie neatly the same way. I made a supreme effort even though Melissa wasn’t there to notice.

  Dad fixed the bunk-bed ladder so it couldn’t slip any more.

  ‘But you must still be very, very careful, Martina,’ said Mum. ‘I think the sooner we can afford proper twin beds the better!’

  She and Dad kissed me goodnight. Dad said, ‘Night-night, sleep tight, don’t let the bugs bite.’

  I couldn’t sleep tight for ages. I wound Wilma right round me, but somehow she wasn’t quite company enough. It felt so quiet and still in the big bedroom by myself. I knew Melissa was going to be all right. Mum was collecting her from hospital in the morning. But I still worried even so. It felt so odd being without her. I wanted to whisper and giggle and play around with her. We might fight all the time – but it was fun. I couldn’t wait for her to come home again.

  I snuffled mournfully, missing her sweet rose smell. I listened to the silence, wishing I could hear her gentle steady snoring. I missed her so much.

  It was wonderful welcoming her home the next day and playing with her in our bedroom. That’s the best thing about my sister – she’s always there. She sticks up for me. She understands about school stuff. She gives me secret cuddles when I need them. And she doesn’t tell on me – not when it really, really matters. She’s the best sister in the whole world and I love her to bits.

  SISTERS

  I’ve always thought it would be wonderful to be part of a very large family. I used to love reading books about big families like Little Women and What Katy Did. I’d imagine what it would be like to have lots of sisters. I often write rather wistfully about sisters who are very close to each other, like Ruby and Garnet in Double Act and Pearl and Jodie in My Sister Jodie. I was an only child and I longed for a sister to play with. I used to pretend I had one. I’d mutter to this imaginary person as I played with my dolls and she’d talk back to me. Sometimes we’d even have arguments!

  By Jacqueline Wilson

  … and turn the page for lots more about sisters!

  READING NOTES

  • In The Worst Thing About My Sister, Marty and Melissa are very different! Write a description of both girls and their personalities. Can you spot things that explain why they argue so often? Do you think they would get along better if they were more alike?

  • The main character in The Worst Thing About My Sister is tomboy Marty, so when the girls fall out, we always hear her side of the story! But do you think girlie Melissa is always to blame for their arguments – or is Marty sometimes in the wrong? Pick out three arguments from the story and try to decide why they started, and how the girls could have acted differently.

  • What do you think the hardest thing about having a sister could be? And the nicest thing? If you have a sister, describe your happiest memory of her. If you don’t have a sister, you could always write about your best school friend!

  • If you could write a letter to Marty and Melissa, what would you say to them to help them get along better? You might have some good advice for them. You could even add some fun ideas for things the girls could do together – like baking, drawing, or putting on a play at home!

  Jacqueline Wilson loves writing about sisters in her books – and she loves reading about them too. Some of her favourite books are about sisters. Have you read any of them?

  Nancy and Plum

  My favourite book when I was a child was Nancy and Plum by Betty MacDonald. Nancy and Plum are two orphaned sisters stuck in a children’s home run by hateful Mrs Monday. Nancy is a shy, dreamy girl of ten, with long red plaits. Plum is a fierce, funny girl of eight, with short fair plaits. They play all sorts of inventive, imaginary games together and love reading. They decide to run away and eventually find a wonderful new home on a farm with Mr and Mrs Campbell, who give them lots of love and hugs and treats!

  Ballet Shoes

  I liked Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild – about three orphaned sisters this time! Pauline, Petrova and Posy get to go to stage school. Pauline is the pretty one who loves acting. Petrova is plain and hates having to prance about on stage – she wants to fly planes. Posy is a little show-off who is seriously gifted at ballet. They are such true-to-life, realistic girls. I used to imagine I was at stage school with them and pretended my pink bedroom slippers were ballet shoe
s!

  Little Women

  I loved Victorian stories like Little Women by Louisa M. Alcott, about four sisters, Meg, Jo, Beth and Amy. I liked Jo best, because she was the most lively, an untidy tomboy who loved reading and writing her own stories.

  What Katy Did

  I also loved What Katy Did by Susan Coolidge. Katy is the oldest and naughtiest child in a very large family, with three sisters – Clover, Elsie and Johnnie – and two brothers too! She also has a kind and cheerful older cousin, Helen, who is almost like another sister. Katy has a fall from a swing and is in bed, unable to walk, for a very long time. She naturally grumbles and complains – but there is a happy ending!

  By Jacqueline Wilson

  Have you read these other fantastic stories about sisters by Jacqueline Wilson?

  Ruby and Garnet are identical twins – but they don’t always want the same things …

  DOUBLE ACT

  We’re twins. I’m Ruby. She’s Garnet.

  We’re identical. There’s very few people who can tell us apart. Well, until we start talking. I tend to go on and on. Garnet is much quieter.

  That’s because I can’t get a word in edgeways.

  We are exactly the same height and weight. I eat a bit more than Garnet. I love sweets, and I like salty things too. I once ate thirteen packets of crisps in one day. All salt-and-vinegar flavour. I love lots of salt and vinegar on chips too. Chips are my special weakness. I go munch munch munch gulp and they’re gone. So then I have to snaffle some of Garnet’s. She doesn’t mind.

  Yes I do.

  I don’t get fatter because I charge around more. I hate sitting still. Garnet will hunch up over a book for hours, but I get the fidgets. We’re both quite good at running, Garnet and me. At our last sports day at school we beat everyone, even the boys. We came first. Well, I did, actually. Garnet came second. But that’s not surprising, seeing as I’m the eldest. We’re both ten. But I’m twenty minutes older. I was the bossy baby who pushed out first. Garnet came second.