Jemima Small Versus the Universe

by Tamsin Winter

  Afterwards, we squashed into Luna’s car and drove up past the seafront to Bonuccio’s Pizzeria. The restaurant was warm, and lit with millions of candles. A waiter smiled and led us to a table by the window. He moved a chair so I could push Nana’s wheelchair in.

  “Oh, isn’t this lovely!” Nana said. “Your grandad used to take me dancing down there.” She pointed to the palladium and told us stories about all the stuff she did before she got so geriatric.

  “I’m starving,” Miki said, looking at the menu.

  “Eat as much as you want, Miki. It’s on my brother.” Luna smiled at my dad.

  The waiter took our order, and Jasper tried to show off by speaking some Italian. Which made him look like an idiot because the waiter said he was from Lyme Regis. While we were waiting for our food, Dad told jokes like: What do you call someone who doesn’t like pizza? A weirdough. And I think the entire restaurant could hear Jasper’s laughter.

  Jasper had been referring to his magic show in the garden as “Le Grand Illusion” all the way here, and I knew I’d probably be hearing about it for the rest of my life.

  “It was wonderful, Jasper!” Nana said. “Reminded me of your grandfather! He’d be so proud. He wouldn’t have touched that tarantula, mind.”

  “It was awesome,” Miki said. “You should ask Miss Nisha if you can do some tricks during the interval of Mary Poppins!”

  But Jasper said, “My magic warrants an entire show of its own.” He turned to me and said, “You know, Jemima, it’s fine remembering facts and doing little Brainiacs quizzes and stuff. But magic is a form of art.”

  “You’re right, Jasper,” I said. “Your show was so incredible, even the English language doesn’t have the right words to do it justice.” I caught Miki’s eye. “Miki taught me how to say this phrase in Japanese and it just seems like the perfect way to congratulate you.” Then I told Jasper his show was a weasel’s last fart in Japanese. Miki and I couldn’t even look at each other without laughing until the pizzas arrived.

  Dad was talking about the sign for the new hotel he was painting, and I was about halfway through eating my pizza when I heard it. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to. But I did.

  “Well, they shouldn’t bring her here, should they?” It was a woman sitting a couple of tables away, talking to her husband. “No wonder she’s that size if they let her eat pizza all the time!” And then the biggest tut I’d heard in my life.

  Luna must have heard it too. Because her hand clasped mine. I tried to act like I didn’t care. But you can’t hide your pain from a psychic unfortunately. Even if it is totally invisible from the outside.

  “Don’t listen. I’m going to send her some seriously negative energy,” Luna whispered. “You’re amazing.”

  “She’s lucky I’m in this wheelchair, I tell you,” Nana said.

  Miki asked what we were talking about, but I told him it didn’t matter. The murmur of the restaurant came back, and Jasper started complimenting his own magic show again. Nana nudged my arm and told me to finish my pizza.

  And I sat there, wondering how I could be made of two hundred and six bones, over six hundred muscles, a hundred thousand miles of blood vessels, billions of nerves, and trillions of cells, and have orbited the sun thirteen times, but still feel like nothing.

  I spent the rest of half-term lying on my bedroom floor half-revising for the Brainiacs Selection Day. But after the woman had said that thing at the restaurant, my enthusiasm for being in a room with two hundred and fifty people I didn’t know had kind of waned. Miki was staying at his dad’s, so almost the whole week had passed and all I’d done was listen to rain pouring down my window and stare at pages of revision notes. But I had come to a decision. I wanted to get a high enough score to beat Lottie, but low enough not to make it onto the show. The only problem was, I had no idea how high Lottie would score. Miki had messaged me saying Lottie’s parents had hired a private tutor for the week. The only thing my dad hired was a bowling lane.

  I objected to it on moral grounds, based on the fact that I hated bowling and Jasper always made a stupid comment each time my ball went into the gutter and there were only three days until the competition. But Dad said I’d been studying all week and needed to get some fresh air. Which was his way of telling me we were walking.

  The bowling alley was in the arcade opposite the pier. It smelled of chips and popcorn mixed together, and there were no windows. The whole place was lit with this strange green light which made me feel like we were in a submarine. A games machine called DELTA II flashed and played sound effects of bombs exploding and machine gun fire, which was literally ridiculous. Delta II was an American rocket launching system. It did not carry any weapons.

  Once we’d changed our shoes and chosen a lane, Jasper entered our names into the computer. He always wrote annoying ones for himself, like MAGIC MASTER or THE ENIGMA. This time it was THE CONQUEROR. I went first and my ball immediately veered off into the gutter lane. A giant zero came up on the screen and Jasper said, “Pathetic.” I changed his name to THE COCKROACH while he chose his ball.

  Dad usually took us to the fast food place in the arcade after bowling, but he said there was a new health food deli up the road that he really wanted to try. I believed him for about three seconds. Then Jasper gave me this look and I realized it was because of me. And what that lady in the pizzeria had said about me. And I felt like that giant zero was flashing over my name again.

  At the deli, I was taking a bite of spinach muffin when I spotted Gina walking through the door. I wasn’t totally surprised. It was a health food deli after all. It was probably her spiritual home. She waved and made an immediate beeline for us.

  “Hi, Jemima! Great to see you! And, oh my goodness! It’s Brainiacs in what…?”

  I was still chewing the muffin, so I couldn’t say anything. It was kind of hard to swallow. Mainly because it was so disgusting.

  Dad stood up so fast he almost knocked our plates. “It’s on Monday. You must be Gina! Hi!”

  I finally swallowed. “This is my dad,” I said, “Orion.”

  Dad looked at me like he really wanted to tell me off for saying his full name, but didn’t want Gina to think he was a tyrant dictator. I smiled my best smile at him.

  “Orion?” Gina said, raising her eyebrows. Her smile was up to at least ninety per cent.

  “Yeah,” Jasper said. “After the Orion cinema in that retail park outside town.”

  “Don’t be stupid, Jasper,” I said. “Orion was a hunter in Greek mythology who was placed among the stars. It’s the most prominent constellation on the celestial equator. There are a few legends about Orion’s life, actually, that I’ve been reading about—”

  “Yes, well, don’t feel you have to tell us about them right now, Jemima.” Dad smiled at Gina. “It’s Rion. It’s great to finally meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Gina said, giving Dad a full one hundred per cent smile. “I’m glad you decided to check this place out!”

  I should have known this deli idea came from Gina.

  “I’ll grab something to eat and join you, shall I?” Gina said.

  It was kind of rude of her, considering we were having a family meal. But Dad didn’t seem to mind. In fact, I’d never seen him agree to something so enthusiastically. He was probably bored of Jasper talking non-stop about his bowling achievements. I know I was. Dad was so keen to escape he went up to the counter with Gina while she ordered her food.

  “So, are you all ready for the camping trip?” Gina said as they sat down. “It sounds like fun!”

  “I’m still hoping Dad will see sense and not make me go,” I said.

  Gina laughed as Dad rolled his eyes.

  “Jemima’s got this aversion to camping,” he explained. “It started in early childhood.”

  Gina laughed so hard she almost choked on her falafel. Maybe it was an age thing. Like, you can’t get my dad’s jokes unless you’re almost geriatric.

  “Remember what I said
about the Brainiacs competition, Jemima,” Gina said outside as we were leaving. “Keep that head of yours held high.”

  And then she chatted to my dad for ages even though it had started raining again.

  I spent that weekend reading and revising, then on Sunday morning, I woke up to hear Dad singing loudly in the shower. It was weird. I pulled on my dressing gown, picked up my revision cards and went downstairs.

  Jasper had his head in the fridge.

  “Hey, test me on these,” I said to him, sitting at the table.

  He emerged with half a block of cheese in his mouth.

  “You’re eating cheese for breakfast?”

  “Protein!” he said, spraying bits of cheese everywhere. He turned a chair round the wrong way, sat down and put on a pair of sunglasses.

  I didn’t tell him about the bits of cheese stuck in his fringe.

  He cracked his knuckles, took my revision cards and started shuffling them. “Jemima, I know you think this Brainiacs thing is a big deal, but let me tell you, it isn’t. Nothing you do at thirteen’s a big deal. You’ll realize that one day.”

  “Jasper, you’re only fourteen.”

  He slid his sunglasses down to the end of his nose. “And seven months.”

  I sighed and grabbed some cereal. “Just test me, Jasper. The emissions from your ego are damaging my brain cells.”

  Jasper pulled out his phone. “Okay. Quick fire. Thirty questions. And if you lose, you’re on washing-up duty for two weeks.”

  “How can I lose when I’m the only person playing?”

  Jasper raised his eyebrows. “Your greatest enemy is yourself.”

  “Just ask me some questions, Jasper! It’s the competition tomorrow!”

  “Fine,” he said, picking up the first card. “But I want a share in the prize money.”

  That afternoon, Dad told me I needed to rest my brain before the competition. He put my revision cards on top of the fridge, then headed upstairs. I sat down to watch World’s Deadliest Sharks while I made some more revision cards for the journey tomorrow. A few minutes later, Dad came downstairs smelling like aftershave, even though he doesn’t shave, and it looked like he’d ironed his shirt.

  “So, I’m heading out for a bit.”

  Jasper and I looked at him.

  “You’re going out?” I said.

  “Yeah, just for a couple of hours,” he replied.

  I exchanged looks with Jasper. “You’re leaving us alone?” I said.

  Dad laughed and messed up my hair. “Not alone! Luna’s in the garden.”

  “Cool. I don’t need a babysitter,” Jasper said and went back to watching TV.

  “But,” I said, “where are you going? Can I come with you?”

  “No. Just into town, Jemima! I won’t be long. And, hey, I thought I said no revising tonight.”

  I put my cards on the coffee table. “But…you never go out.”

  “Exactly!” He went to open the front door.

  “But,” I said, “you can’t just leave me here alone, Dad. It’s illegal!” I had this weird feeling in my stomach. Sort of like absolute terror. I wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe my psychic powers were awakening and I was having a premonition.

  Dad took a deep breath. “It’s not illegal, Jemima. You’ve got Jasper to look after you.”

  “Have you forgotten his ball of flames trick that almost burned the house down a couple of weeks ago?”

  Jasper hit me with a cushion.

  Dad sighed. “Fine. I’ll ask Luna to sit with you, okay? Honestly, Jemima! It’s just a couple of hours. I’ll be back to help you do some last-minute cramming if you want, but honestly, I think it’s better to relax tonight. Now, if you’ve finished your interrogation, I’ll get Luna.”

  I knew in my head that Dad going out for a couple of hours was no big deal. That he wasn’t leaving for ever. But the message hadn’t quite made it to my heart. My heart was kind of stupid like that.

  “Fine!” I said and turned back to the TV as a tiger shark devoured an albatross. When Dad had gone outside I said to Jasper, “Why is Dad acting so suspiciously?”

  “I don’t know,” Jasper said. “Maybe he wants to get you a present for the Brainiacs thing tomorrow or something.”

  I felt an immediate relief, like at Miki’s house once when the food was too spicy and his mum gave me a glass of milk. It has this protein in it called casein which takes the burn off your tongue.

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “That could be it. Dad is such a bad liar.” I watched the screen as a great white shark tried to pound its way into a cage containing two divers. “Doesn’t explain the overpowering aftershave though.”

  “Woah!” Jasper yelled, ignoring me. “I’m never swimming in the sea again!”

  “Don’t be stupid. They’ve probably baited it with something. It can detect blood in the water; that’s why it’s attacking them. The chances of being killed by a shark are about one in 250 million. It’s actually far more likely for you to get hit by an asteroid while you’re sitting right here on this sofa.”

  “Thanks,” Jasper said, looking suspiciously at the ceiling.

  I finished making my revision cards in my room, watching Tabitha Hendrix “Love Your Body” vlogs on YouTube. Then I practised timed multiplication, recited geographical facts and revised words from the phobias section of my Champion’s Guide to Spelling book which Miss Reed had bought me ages ago when she forced me to do the Spelling Bee. Like pteromerhanophobia, which is the fear of flying. I worked out what that one meant without looking it up because it’s got ptero at the beginning, which means wing in Greek. It was easier to understand than chionophobia, which is the fear of snow. I knew that chion meant snow; I just didn’t understand how anyone could be frightened of something that could get you a day off school.

  The next morning, as everyone else was going back to school, I was travelling at approximately one hundred miles an hour towards London, reading the World’s Deadliest Animals book I’d borrowed from Jasper. It was hard to concentrate on facts about giant hornets though, because it felt like I was hurtling towards something even more dangerous.

  “Stop worrying!” Dad peered at me over his Art + Design magazine. “Everyone there will be nervous.”

  I nodded and looked out of the window. Lottie probably wouldn’t be nervous. I hoped I didn’t have to sit next to her. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate with her sneering at me.

  “Jemima, ever since you started school, all I’ve heard from your teachers is how freakishly smart you are.”

  “Thanks,” I said rolling my eyes.

  “What I mean is, Brainiacs will be looking for someone exactly like you today.”

  I looked at the outline of my reflection in the train window, and tried my hardest, my absolute hardest, to believe him.

  My phone beeped. It was a text from Miki telling me to SLAY IT! next to the Japanese character that means “courage”.

  I typed back:

  Thanks

  But I knew I couldn’t slay over two hundred and fifty people.

  I turned the page of my book and read: Did you know? An adult box jellyfish contains enough venom to kill over sixty humans. Too bad I wasn’t a box jellyfish.

  We arrived at Paddington station, where a huge clock told us that we were running late in Roman numerals. Dad hurried down the steps, dodging tourists wheeling suitcases, just in time to drag me onto a giant escalator heading underground to catch our next train.

  “Phew! Just made it!” Dad announced to the entire carriage as the doors slammed shut. “She’s got an audition!”

  My skin stung with embarrassment.

  An old couple smiled warmly at me as I sat down near some empty seats, but two women sitting opposite looked at me, then smiled at each other. Maybe they couldn’t figure out how “audition” and me went together. I closed my eyes and started silently counting the seventy-eight times tables, trying to drown out the voice in my head telling me I shouldn’t be here. That voic
e needed to shut up. I had maths to do.

  At the hotel, we followed the signs saying BRAINIACS COMPETITION – CHAPLIN SUITES.

  “Look – that’s Big Ben across the river!” Dad said, pointing out of a huge window.

  I told him that technically it was the Elizabeth Tower, because Big Ben is the bell inside. He told me to save the “swot talk” for the competition.

  The Chaplin Suites were three rectangular-shaped rooms joined together. Huge white wooden shutters had been pushed back, on some sort of pulley system, to create one enormous space. By the entrance, there were people milling about next to a table covered with name badges. I couldn’t spot Lottie or Noah Chamberlain, but I noticed a parent giving me a second glance. I stayed in Dad’s shadow as we walked over to the table.

  A woman wearing a yellow Brainiacs long-sleeved T-shirt found my name badge and said, “Good luck, Jemima! May your brain be with you!” She handed me a schedule and a list of rules, then I had to stand in front of a huge yellow screen to get my photo taken.

  A few people nearby watched me while that was happening. Which made it pretty hard to “Smile like a Brainiac!” like the photographer told me to do.

  The flash was still in my eyes as Dad headed to a sofa opposite the registration desk, where he read out the rules for the day. There were millions. Don’t take off your badge. Don’t talk about the games you’ve completed with other competitors. Don’t take your phone into the competition room. The adjudicators’ decision was final. My brain ached and the competition hadn’t even started yet. A klaxon sounded, and people started filing into the room.

  Dad hugged me. “Good luck, sweetheart. Whatever happens, try to enjoy it!”

  I nodded like that was even possible. As I handed him my phone a text flashed up from Luna: