Dad took a deep breath. “I haven’t got time for this, Jemima. I’m starting a big job at that new hotel this morning. Just go and wash it off. Now.”
I thought about everyone at school laughing at me and my heart started pounding like it was about to crack my ribcage open. “Fine. Forget about me ever fitting in with normal society, Dad,” I said. “I’ll be a freak show like they had in the 1800s. Take a Look! The Freak of Clifton-on-Sea! The girl not allowed to wear a TINY bit of eyeliner even though she’s practically an adult!”
Jasper laughed and said, “Drama queen.” Like performing your own magic shows isn’t dramatic.
Then Dad laughed as well. “Don’t knock those freak shows, Jemima!” he said. “Some of our ancestors made a lot of money at those shows. The Small family were known far and wide for Auntie Lilian’s talking beard.”
Jasper snorted again.
“This family is so weird,” I said.
“I’m serious!” Dad said. “It could tell your fortune! In fact, I bet there’s a photo in that old tin I found in the garage. Now, where did I put it?” Dad opened the cabinet drawer.
“Great. So thanks to your genetics, Dad, I’ll probably grow a beard.”
Dad looked at Jasper and they exchanged this smile, like they had a special conspiracy about how ugly I was or something. That’s why I said it. Because I felt like the odd one out. And because tears were starting to sting my eyes.
“I wish Mum was here. She’d let me wear eyeliner. She wouldn’t make me live in this oppressive regime.”
Dad screwed up his lips.
I braced myself for SMALL FAMILY ARMAGEDDON: DAD’S STRESS LEVELS GO NUCLEAR!
But he said, “Actually, your mum never really wore make-up.”
I should have stopped talking then. But my heart was beating really fast and my cheeks were hot, and I felt like any minute my tears might escape. My mouth just kept going. Like that fortune-telling robot on the pier called Zenor, whose mouth keeps moving after your money’s run out. “Maybe Mum didn’t wear make-up when she was married to you, but she probably does now. You wouldn’t know because you don’t even know where she is! No wonder she decided to…escape this family.” I regretted it as soon as I said it. I wished I could pick the words up and put them back in my mouth. But it was too late.
“Right, that’s enough, Jemima!” Dad shouted, slamming the cabinet door closed so the glasses in the cupboard clinked together. “You’ve gone too far now. Go upstairs and come back down when you’ve learned some manners and respect!”
Jasper muttered, “She’ll be up there a long time.” Dad glared at him and he added, “Sorry.”
“Fine!” I said, sniffing my tears back. “I get to miss school then.” I swished round extra dramatically, only one of the straps from my rucksack got caught on the bottom of the banister and it took about ten seconds to get it free.
“For goodness’ sake, Jemima!” Dad said, and I ran upstairs. When I reached the top he shouted, “You’ve got three minutes!”
I shouted down, “No one can learn manners and respect in three minutes!” I quickly went into the bathroom and locked the door as hot tears spilled onto my cheeks. I splashed my face with cold water and rubbed my eyes, leaving gold-brown glittery streaks on a cream-coloured towel that Dad would probably tell me off about later.
I wanted to go downstairs and say sorry, but that feeling I’d had when I sat the Brainiacs test yesterday, when I had that fireball in my stomach, had been extinguished. I couldn’t feel even the tiniest ember.
Out of the window, the clouds looked distorted through the patterned glass. I knew the stars were beyond them. But no matter how many times I wished for my first Fat Club to be okay, I also knew that they were just burning spheres of gas, completely indifferent to my wishes. Sometimes, knowing stuff about space could be intensely annoying.
“Jemima!” Lottie whispered for the millionth time in our French lesson. “Are you free at lunchtime? Oh no, sorry, I forgot, you’ve got Fat Club!” Which she accompanied with a fake sad face. “Don’t feel bad. I’m sure when the teacher sees you she’ll…make you captain!”
I sighed. Sitting within two metres of Lottie Freeman should be considered a breach of your human rights.
“Leave her alone, Lottie,” Miki said. “You should go to Zero Personality Club.”
“Oh, don’t say that Miki!” Lottie said. “Not when we’re starring in the production together!” She smirked at him.
“What?” Miki said.
“Didn’t you go to the drama studio at break? Miss Nisha’s put the list up. You got Bert!”
“I GOT BERT?” Miki shouted. “Oh my God!”
“Quieten down, Miki!” Mr Picard said. “And if you have to speak, at least try to do it in French.”
“Brilliant!” I whispered.
Mr Picard stared at me so I put on a French accent and said, “I mean, Brilliant!”
He rolled his eyes. Like it was my fault the word “brilliant” is the same in French. He turned around and went back to helping Caleb, who was deliberately just speaking English words with a French accent.
“By the way, I got Mary Poppins!” Lottie whispered sweetly over the desk, deliberately making eye contact with me. “So, Bert, I guess we’re best friends!”
Miki looked at me, then back at Lottie. “Only in the production, Lottie.” He whispered in my ear, “Lucky I’m good at acting.”
Lottie narrowed her eyes. “Shame you can’t be in the production as well, Jemima. But, I guess you’ve got other priorities.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say back to her, so I turned the page of my textbook and started copying out some verb phrases. What could I say? Lottie was technically speaking the truth. Anyway, Dad had already banned me from swearing in foreign languages.
Miki drew a rat in the corner of my page. “Hey,” he whispered. “Don’t listen to Lottie. Everyone knows she’s ninety-nine per cent rodent.”
When I got to the sports hall at lunchtime, nerves flooded my body as though they were attached to my blood cells. There were some boys kicking a football against the outside wall, and a group of Year Tens were standing around a bench opposite, looking at their phones. A few people watched as I walked up the path to the entrance. I flinched, expecting someone to shout something, but one of the PE teachers appeared and started doing keep-ups with the boys’ football. I put my hand on the sports hall door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.
The first thing I saw was a flash of super luminous honey blonde hair. It was swept back with a black headband covered in white stars. The Empress card I’d picked from Luna’s tarot pack last night came into my mind. I closed the door behind me and she turned around. It was Gina Grantley-Bond. Her black sports leggings were covered in little lightning bolts, exactly like the ones on the Tower card. I started to feel a bit weird. Luna’s premonitions were usually wildly inaccurate.
“Welcome!” Gina said with an extraordinarily wide smile. “Jemima?”
I nodded and her smile went even wider, until it covered approximately seventy per cent of her face. If she smiled any harder she’d probably get a facial injury. I didn’t understand why she was so pleased about running Fat Club. Maybe she liked humiliating people.
“I’m Gina! Come in!”
Heidi, Harry and Brandon were putting out chairs in a circle. I recognized two others from the meeting we’d had about the newspaper article. They looked like they were in Year Ten or Eleven.
“You’re the last one,” Gina said. “Sit down!”
“The last one?” I said. “But there’s only six of us.”
Gina’s smile dropped by about thirty per cent. “I’m afraid this is it.” She looked around awkwardly as Brandon stacked some of the chairs back up. “Some of the parents read the article in the newspaper, you see, and they started a group. They made it seem like my class was…well, most people didn’t agree to their children taking part.” Gina suddenly clapped her hands like she was b
reaking a spell. “Anyway! The main thing is that you’re all here! And I am so excited to start my healthy lifestyle programme with you!” She clapped again and smiled the biggest smile I’d ever seen. It radiated from her, as though her skin was made of pure smile, nothing else. Like a real live goddess was beaming right at me.
It was annoying. Because it made it really hard not to like her.
Gina explained how we weren’t there as a punishment. Which was sort of a lie, because it was lunchtime so it was technically a detention. But I made a mature decision not to say anything. Mainly because that morning before I’d left the house, Dad had confiscated the eyeliner and given me strict instructions not to mention any of the following during Gina’s class, or I’d be cleaning his van tomorrow:
1. Punishments (including medieval torture techniques).
2. My human rights.
3. Exaggerations or lies.
4. Anything Luna had ever told me.
It didn’t exactly leave much to talk about. Apart from my dad being a tyrant dictator.
Gina said we mustn’t feel like we’d done anything wrong. But that was exactly what the class felt like, so I only half-believed her. “Now, let’s start by playing a little game to get to know each other!”
I’m not psychic, but I’d had a feeling she would do something like this. I sank into my chair.
“Tell us your name and something totally awesome about yourself! I’ll start. I’m Gina and I used to be a Paralympic coach!”
I wondered what had gone wrong in her life that she used to be a Paralympic coach and now she had to teach at Clifton Academy.
She looked down at her clipboard. “Where’s Nathaniel Jackson? As you’re in Year Eleven, let’s start with you.”
The boy sitting opposite Gina lifted his hand. “Hi, it’s Nate.”
“Okay! Tell us something totally awesome about yourself, Nate!”
I looked at the row of pin badges on the lapel of Nate’s blazer. There was an Eco Council badge, a Prefect pin, a photography club pin, a tiny flag of Nigeria, and one at the bottom just saying Legend. He had loads of things to choose from.
“Well,” Nate said, “I met Jesse Lingard over the summer.”
“Wow!” Gina said at exactly the same time as everyone else.
I made a mental note to find out who Jesse Lingard was after the class. By the time Gina got to me, I’d learned that the girl in Year Ten, Maya, had just passed her Grade Four flute, Harry had read ten books over the summer holidays, Heidi had started writing a book called The Souls of the Forest, and was already on chapter nine. And Brandon Taylor was Year Ten’s unofficial arm-wrestling champion.
So when Gina said my name, I couldn’t think of anything.
“Oh, come on, Jemima!” Gina said. “I’m sure there are lots of awesome things about you!”
“I don’t know,” I said. The only thing coming into my mind was the spelling bee I’d won in Year Five, which sounded stupid.
Gina’s face dropped, like she was actually upset I wasn’t joining in.
Don’t feel sorry for Gina, I told myself. She’s the reason this stupid class was invented.
“Didn’t you win the Science Award last year, Jemima?” Heidi said. “And the Maths Prize?”
“Yeah, and the Reading Challenge!” Harry added. “She beat me by two books!”
Gina beamed at them. “Thank you, Heidi and Harry. Wow, Jemima! That sounds pretty awesome to me!”
I felt my cheeks glow pink. “Oh yeah.” It’s weird how people can list your achievements and you still feel like an idiot.
“Fantastic! Thank you, everyone!” Gina said, clapping herself. “What a totally awesome game!” She should probably check the definition of the word “awesome”. And “game”. “I’m so excited to start working with you all!” Everything Gina said ended in an exclamation mark. My English teacher, Mr Jackson, was always telling us you shouldn’t do that. “So, my programme is designed to help you live your healthiest life…”
Gina started going on about all the things she would be teaching us this term. I stopped listening, and looked down at the lines marking out the basketball courts. They reminded me of last year. When I would stare at them while everyone else got picked before me. As if the whole team would lose if it had me on it. That’s what people assume when your PE kit says XL on the label.
They don’t care that you begged your dad for new trainers with a special grip pattern on the soles because you wanted to make an extra effort in PE at secondary school. They don’t care you’ve had a basketball hoop up in your drive since for ever and that you’re actually pretty accurate at shooting. They don’t know it’s the only sport you enjoy. All they see is you stepping backwards, and telling Ms Newton you don’t feel well, so you don’t have to see their disappointed faces when you end up on their team. Then you sit on the bench with your hoodie up and try not to watch the game. Try not to care. Because why try to win for a team that didn’t want you in the first place?
“So!” Gina was saying. “I thought it would be nice for us to have a little picnic and get to know each other in this first class!”
We looked at Gina in silence as she stood up and dragged a cool box into the middle of the circle. She handed out paper plates and forks then started taking out little containers.
“Come on, everyone! Tuck in!”
But no one moved. It was a weird feeling, a bit like whenever Jasper was nice to me. I could never be sure if he was secretly planning something bad.
Like this time ages ago when he said he’d got me a present. He made me close my eyes and hold out my hands. Only when I opened them his pet tarantula, Tornado, was about to crawl up my arm. I froze. It was the first time I’d ever held a tarantula. Jasper told me later that it was a good thing I did freeze, because he’d found out that tarantulas can die from being dropped. Luckily for Tornado, I already knew that. They have a really fragile exoskeleton. So, Jasper’s stupid trick to scare me backfired. I froze because I also knew that tarantulas are a nervous species. And when they’re nervous, they flick their bum hairs at you.
I looked around the circle. No one was eating.
“Okay,” Gina said. “Let me show you what I’ve got, and maybe you can all just try a little bit.” She picked up a box and said proudly, “This is quinoa! I don’t suppose you’ve heard of it, but it’s—”
“Edible seeds from a herbaceous plant,” I said, kind of by accident. “The ancient civilizations of South America used to eat it and…” I stopped because everyone in the circle was staring at me. “My auntie’s a vegan,” I explained. “You have to eat stuff like that when you’re a vegan.” I didn’t tell them about the UN declaring 2013 the International Year of Quinoa, or that quinoa has been into outer space because astronauts take it on long voyages because it keeps for ages. I’d already learned from my “show and tell” presentation last year that people are not interested in the history of quinoa.
“That’s brilliant, Jemima!” Gina beamed. “And quinoa is very low in fat and high in essential minerals like iron, potassium, calcium and magnesium, so it’s—”
“Like eating the periodic table,” Nate said.
“Sort of!” Gina laughed. “But it’s delicious!” She went round the circle scooping some onto our plates.
Harry raised it to his nose and sniffed. Gina brought out more boxes of food and piled more onto our plates until we had lentil salad, vegetables, black beans, super grain spirals, spinach mini muffins and crisps made out of beetroot. It was like having lunch with Willy Wonka. If Willy Wonka had a vegetable patch instead of a chocolate factory.
While Gina told us about the class, and promised we wouldn’t be running laps around the field, I swallowed a forkful of lentils. They actually tasted okay, like the type of stuff Luna cooked. Jasper called it fart food. I made sure I didn’t eat too much. The last thing I needed on the first day of Fat Club was flatulence.
“As it’s such a small group,” Gina said, “maybe you’
d like to share how you felt about being selected for my class.”
“Selected?” Maya said. “Selected makes it sound good. People get selected for sports teams. Being selected for a class because you’re fat isn’t good.”
Gina looked at Maya sympathetically, but she didn’t say anything. Probably because there wasn’t anything she could say. Maya was right. Being selected for Gina’s class was so bad it made front page news.
“My mum’s gone mad about it,” Maya carried on. “She said I have to lose weight in this class or we might not go on holiday next year.” Maya’s mum sounded worse than my dad. I didn’t think that was even possible.
“We wanted to be in the Christmas production,” Harry said. “But our mum said this was more important.”
“Yeah,” Heidi said, putting her empty plate on the floor. “She doesn’t want us to end up like her. She’s got…bad knees.”
Gina’s eyes looked sad and her smile had completely disappeared.
Brandon shrugged. “My mum says there’s more of me to love!”
I hated Brandon, but I couldn’t help smiling. It was probably the type of thing my mum would say if she’d stuck around. Like the exact opposite of anything my dad said.
“Jemima?” Gina said. “What did your mum say?”
And I wanted to bury my head in the tub of quinoa. Brandon looked at me. He was probably the only one who knew about my mum. He was still friends with Jasper when she left.
“Jemima lives with her dad,” Brandon said. He smiled at me, which was extremely weird considering the number of times he’d called me “Cowpat” at primary school.
“I’m sorry, Jemima!” Gina said.
I shook my head like it didn’t matter.
“So, what did your dad say?”
I put my fork down and thought for a minute. But whenever someone mentioned my mum unexpectedly, that empty bit in my heart hurt. And it was hard to think properly. So I said, “My dad is basically a dictator, so he grounded me and confiscated some of my belongings.”
“What?” Gina said, her eyes widening. “Because of this class?”
Jemima Small Versus the Universe Page 8