I looked closely at Mum’s face, searching for clues about why she left us. But I couldn’t find any. I guess people don’t wear clues on their faces when they decide to disappear from your life. Although, the photo was taken a few years before she left, so maybe she just hadn’t decided yet.
Before Dad got back from the tip, I went and hid Mum’s box under my bed. Dad never even wanted to talk about her, so I doubted he’d want to see her things. Besides, I was worried he might want to take it to the tip. I shifted a few boxes out of the way so I could start sweeping. And that’s when I saw the paintings. There must have been twenty of them. Some of sea creatures. Some of the pier. Some of me and Jasper. And loads of Mum. In one she had bright orange hair flowing out like flames. One was just of her eyes filled with tiny stars, as though the whole universe was inside them.
I was sat down looking at them as Dad’s van pulled up.
“What have you got there?” he called as he walked in.
I quickly stood up. “They fell down as I was sweeping.”
Dad picked up a painting, then slowly looked through the rest. “Gosh, I painted some of these fifteen, twenty years ago! Forgot I kept them.” He gazed at the painting of Mum with her hair like flames and shook his head. “Feels like I did them in a former life.”
I stood next to him and looked at the thick swirls of orange paint around Mum’s face. “You must have loved her a lot. To paint her like that.”
Dad smiled, his eyes still fixed on the painting. “Like what?”
“Like she’s a goddess or something.”
“Yeah, I loved your mum, Jemima. I loved her a lot, but…” Dad sighed and put the painting down. “I should probably just take them to the charity shop.” He picked up a painting of me and Jasper. Huge yellow clouds floated above our heads and the sea was pink in the background. “Maybe I’ll keep this one.”
I took a deep breath. “Don’t you…ever wonder where she is?”
Dad put his arm round me, the painting of me and Jasper still in his other hand. “I’m usually too busy worrying about what you’re up to.”
We walked out of the garage towards the house, followed closely by Hermione. Dad leaned down to stroke her black fur.
“Luna not got up to feed you yet, hey? Come on, let’s get some lunch.” Dad opened the front door. “Now, who do you think should wake Luna up, you or me?”
“Hmm,” I said. Last time Dad made me wake Luna up, I had to participate in her sun-worshipping ritual. It involved drinking nettle tea. And chanting. “Definitely Jasper.”
I spent the next couple of days worrying if anyone in my class knew about Fat Club, and trying not to think about the Brainiacs test on Thursday. Which wasn’t easy. Because it was all anyone was talking about. But I hadn’t signed up. I could work out simultaneous equations and recite the entire periodic table; I knew facts about every planet in the solar system and could tell you virtually every constellation in the sky. But none of that solved the problem of my size. And it made everything else about me dissolve into nothing.
It was Wednesday morning, and I was in geography, when I noticed Lottie hiding something under her desk. She nudged Alina and laughed extra loudly. Alina didn’t laugh, but she looked over at me then whispered something. Usually I’d ignore them, but today I couldn’t. It was a gut feeling or intuition or something. Maybe my psychic powers were awakening. Or maybe it was Lottie’s ratty sneer that told me whatever she was hiding under her desk had something to do with me.
“Is there something you’d like to share with the class, Lottie? Alina?” Mr Kelly said. “What’s so amusing?”
“Nothing, Mr Kelly,” Lottie said. “We’re just enjoying learning about coastal erosion.” Lottie was better at sucking up than my brother.
“Okay,” Mr Kelly said suspiciously and went back to writing on the board.
Lottie slipped whatever it was into her bag. It looked like a newspaper. She looked over at me and smiled. Something weird was going on.
“My audition’s at lunch,” Miki whispered, squeezing my arm.
“Miki, is there something you’d like to share with the class?” Mr Kelly said, putting his hands on his hips.
Miki sang, “Only that I’m going to slay the Mary Poppins audition today!” He jumped out of his seat and took a bow.
Even Mr Kelly smiled at that. I tried to smile, but the neurons in my brain were too busy trying to figure out why Lottie would hide a newspaper under her desk.
At lunchtime, I walked to the drama studio with Miki, and told him to break a leg. As if he needed any luck.
He twirled his way through the door, singing “Chim chim cher-ee”.
I still had Miki’s song in my head when it happened. The words “FAT CLUB!” came hurling at me across the playground, like someone had kicked a football at me. It’s not just the pain of it. The pain you get used to. It’s the embarrassment. And not having anywhere to hide. It’s everyone staring because they all heard it too. Like you’re the most grotesque thing ever. Or like they feel sorry for you. Or they’re waiting for you to say something back. Well, I didn’t want to shout anything back because the only thing in my head were lines from Mary Poppins. So, I smiled. Well, I pretended to smile. You can’t smile for real when you feel so embarrassed you want to cry.
I caught eyes with Jaz from my maths class, who was standing nearby with her friends.
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” she said. “My dad always says, ‘today’s newspapers will be tomorrow’s chip papers’!”
I literally had no idea what she was talking about. “Okay, thanks,” I said and walked towards the library. I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out right then. My brain must have been having an off day.
I was sitting at a table in the corner of the library reading my book, when I heard, “Ah, Jemima!” I looked up to see Mr Nelson walking towards me. “I thought you might be in here.” He perched on the edge of the table with his foot up on a chair, which you’re not allowed to do. Stormtroopers stared up at me from his socks. “I’ve just taken a look at the list of students signed up for the Brainiacs test tomorrow, and your name wasn’t on there.”
I avoided eye contact, with Mr Nelson and the Stormtroopers.
“Jemima, you are planning on taking the test, aren’t you?”
I bit my lip. How could I explain that I wanted to go on Brainiacs more than anything, but I didn’t want people to see me on TV? And that anyway, Lottie was right – no one else wanted to see me on TV either. But I couldn’t tell Mr Nelson that. He wouldn’t think it was a genuine problem. He thought a genuine problem was being invaded by the Barbarians. Plus, he wore the same socks as my brother.
“I can’t sit the test, sir,” I said. “My dad doesn’t agree with TV.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “He’s really old-fashioned. He’d prefer me to enter a, erm…” I glanced at the nearest book I could see. Sewing for Beginners. “A…sewing competition or something.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, my dad’s quite, erm, sexist.”
Mr Nelson raised his eyebrows. “Oh! Well, I have to say, that is a shock, Jemima. Your father certainly seemed very pleasant when I met him at parents’ evening last year. And proud of all your achievements. But we do need his permission.” Mr Nelson reached over and picked up Sewing for Beginners from the display stand, then looked at me knowingly before putting it back. I sank into my chair. “Well, it’s a shame. I mean, I have no idea how good you are at sewing, Jemima, but Brainiacs? I think you’re made for that show. In fact, I’d say you’re Clifton Academy’s best hope.”
And when he said that, a tiny part of me glowed, like a star when it’s just beginning to form. I didn’t think about my stomach shrinking or my legs undergoing major surgery, or my arms getting infected with a flesh-eating disease. I didn’t think about any of that stuff. I looked down at the page of the book I’d been reading about animals’ craziest camouflage. And I remembered, for the
first time in ages, just for a moment, what it felt like to not want to hide away.
My heart thumped in my chest as I looked up at Mr Nelson. “Is it too late to sign up?”
When I got to English that afternoon, Miki was standing in the corridor.
“Hey, you didn’t message me,” I said. “How did your audition go?” I tried to walk into the classroom but Miki stood in front of the door.
“Sorry, what?” he said, not looking me in the eye properly.
“Your audition! Literally the only thing you’ve been talking about all week, Miki! How did it go?”
“Oh, yeah. It was good.” He fiddled with his fringe.
“Good? That’s it? Are you feeling okay?”
“Miss Nisha said it was fabulous,” he said quickly. “She’s putting the list up next week.”
“That’s awesome!” I said. “So why don’t you look pleased?” I tried to open the classroom door, but he blocked me again. “Miki, what’s going on? Why won’t you let me go in?”
“I just thought we could wait for Mr Jackson out here instead.”
Miki is good at acting. But he’s bad at lying. I stood on my tiptoes and peered over his head into the classroom. Caleb was at the front reading a newspaper. It was the Clifton Echo. I could hear Lottie’s exaggerated laughter. My heart rate rapidly increased. Miki looked down at his feet and mumbled something. Then I heard the unmistakable tapping of shoes down the corridor.
“Jemima Small,” Mrs Savage called. Her face was fixed in a smile, like she’d hairsprayed it. She was carrying a newspaper under her arm. “Come with me, dear. Mikio Hurami, go into your classroom, please!” Miki rolled his eyes at me. He hated being called Mikio. He tapped his blazer pocket where he kept his phone, meaning for me to message him, and pushed the classroom door.
Suddenly, Mrs Savage took a gigantic step forward and shouted through the open door, “SIT DOWN, ALL OF YOU!” at approximately two hundred decibels. Miki was standing right next to her, so he got the main blast of it. You should never stand too close to Mrs Savage. It’s the same with lions. Dad took me and Jasper to Bristol Zoo once, and the lion’s cage had this notice saying BEWARE, I SPRAY! Jasper ignored it. He kept banging on the bars, trying to wake the lion up. I didn’t because I believe in animal rights. And because I pay attention to signs like that.
Jasper jumped up and shouted, “ROAR!” for about the millionth time. Then, suddenly, the lion stood up and sprayed a huge jet of liquid straight at Jasper. It went all over his clothes and even in his mouth. Dad cleaned him up with paper towels, and Jasper laughed like he was proud of getting drenched by a lion. But only because he hadn’t figured out what the liquid jet was. So, I informed him: it was urine. Jasper didn’t say a word the whole way home. It was one of the best days of my life.
I followed Mrs Savage as she knocked on the next classroom to get Harry and Heidi out of their lesson, then she led us across the school to an empty room in the history block. Some other people I recognized from the Fat Club meeting in the sports hall last week were sitting down. We all watched Mrs Savage with the newspaper in her hands, waiting for her to speak. Everyone looked kind of embarrassed, even Mrs Savage.
“Now,” she said, “you are probably wondering why I’ve taken you out of lessons. But I want to speak to you now to clear up any confusion. This article has only just been brought to my attention.” She unfolded the Clifton Echo and held it up.
A girl from our school was on the front page. The one who’d been crying after the meeting. She was standing next to her mum who was holding up a letter.
The headline read:
MOTHER APPALLED AT DAUGHTER RECEIVING “FAT LETTER”
“I don’t want any of you to worry about this,” Mrs Savage said.
“That’s Freya,” Heidi whispered behind me. “Her mum rang the paper.”
Harry leaned over. “She’s refusing to let her do the class.”
Mrs Savage smiled directly at Harry. But it was the kind of smile that resembled a loaded gun. “You certainly should not feel in any way ashamed by the letters you received last week. That absolutely was not my intention…”
I looked up at the photo of Freya’s mum, and the headline saying she was appalled. She did look extremely appalled. She must have practised loads in the mirror to get it that good. I wish I had an appalled parent. Some people are just born lucky.
“So, if you get any negative comments about the letter, or the Healthy Lifestyle class, or anything related to it, you must report it to me directly at once.”
Harry put up his hand. “Miss, some girls in my class were saying stuff to me and Heidi at lunchtime.”
“NOT NOW, HARRY!” Mrs Savage bellowed. “I’m in the middle of talking!” She smoothed her hair down at the front. “As I said, this is a serious matter. But, please, don’t worry about this article. I will be putting in a complaint to the Clifton Echo myself.”
Okay, I thought, stay calm. So there was an article in the Clifton Echo about us. Lottie and Caleb knew about it, and they’d obviously told my whole class. But it wasn’t like everyone in the school knew. The Clifton Echo wasn’t national news. It was only a local newspaper that old people like my nana read.
“And, of course,” Mrs Savage carried on, “I will be getting every form teacher to speak to their classes about this first thing tomorrow.”
I must have temporarily forgotten that Mrs Savage is evil.
When I went back to English, Lottie kept blowing her cheeks out at me behind her Pride and Prejudice book.
Caleb whispered, “What did your mum think about the letter, Jemima?” and, “What’s it like being famous for being fat?”
Miki told him to shut up, and Mr Jackson warned them about talking during private reading. I sat there staring at the same page of my book, wondering how long it would take for the Clifton Echo to be recycled into chip paper.
Maybe you think I could have told Mrs Savage, and Caleb and Lottie would have stopped. But our school doesn’t really work like that. Nothing works the way teachers say. Like later in the lesson when Mr Jackson said that humans only use ten per cent of our brains. But that’s not true. Virtually all of the human brain is active all the time. Although in Caleb’s case I’d have to make an exception.
On the way to the bus after school, a group of Year Elevens went past me. One of them closed his eyes and put his arms out in front of him.
“I can’t see!” he shouted. “It’s a solar eclipse! Oh no, wait! Fat Club girl’s blocking out the sun.”
And they were all staring at me so I pretended to laugh.
“You’re not funny,” Miki shouted over to them, then said quietly, “You okay? I’ll beat them up for you if you want.” Which made me laugh for real.
“It’s okay,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m not going to listen to anyone who doesn’t know there won’t even be a total solar eclipse until 2090.”
Miki grinned, and walked towards his bus. I quickly walked to mine, hoping there’d be an empty double seat, and that the tears starting to roll down my cheeks would evaporate before I reached the doors.
All the way home, I thought about the Brainiacs test tomorrow and wished with every one of the hundred billion neurons in my brain that I hadn’t promised Mr Nelson I’d sign up.
As soon as I got back from school, I knew Dad had seen the Clifton Echo article because he had this look in his eyes like he felt sorry for me.
“Nana called,” he said, sitting on the sofa. “Sorry, Jem. I can’t believe that girl’s mum called the paper!”
“Yeah, it’s a shame,” I said, pulling my library book out of my bag and sitting down. “I was looking forward to doing Gina’s class as well.”
Dad looked confused. “Jemima, you’re still doing the class.”
I should have known even the media couldn’t change my dad’s mind. I did an extra-long sigh. “Dad, why can’t you just be appalled about it like Freya’s mum?”
Dad rolled his
eyes. “I think Freya’s mum is appalled enough for all of us. She’s started a Facebook group apparently. Hey, where’s Jasper?”
“Mechanics Club,” I said. “So, have you joined the Facebook group?”
“Don’t be silly. A load of outraged mums? No thanks.”
I sighed extra loudly again.
Dad stood up and wandered into the kitchen. “You should do a club like Jasper this year, Jemima. Challenge that brain of yours!”
“I’m already going to Fat Club!” I called back. “Isn’t that enough for you?”
Dad poked his head through the bead curtain. “Don’t call it that.”
“Why not? That’s what everyone calls it,” I mumbled.
“I mean, like Science Club or something! They do loads at your school. I’m amazed you don’t take more of an interest.”
“I tried Science Club last year, remember. No one had even heard of an endothermic reaction!”
Dad sighed. “Anyway, I suppose you might have something else to occupy you soon. I got a phone call from Mr Nelson earlier.”
I heard the printer going, then Dad poked his head back through the beads. “He asked if there was any reason you hadn’t signed up for the Brainiacs test tomorrow.”
My heart stopped. I still hadn’t told Dad about the test. And I’d made Jasper swear on his life not to tell him. Because I knew Dad would force me to enter, the same as Mr Nelson. For a tiny moment I’d thought I could, but the newspaper article had proved I was right the first time. I was already officially too fat for school; I didn’t need Brainiacs pointing it out to the entire nation. There was no way I could do it.
Dad came into the living room holding whatever it was he’d just printed. It was probably the Clifton Echo article. Maybe he was going to stick it on the fridge next to the camping trip letter and all the other things ruining my life.
Jemima Small Versus the Universe Page 6