Jemima Small Versus the Universe

by Tamsin Winter

  She shouted, “RUN, JEMIMA! RUN, GIRL! RUUUUN!” so loudly I could barely remember whose team I was on. If she didn’t think someone was moving fast enough, she’d come right onto the pitch shouting, “GO GO GOOOOO!” It was definitely illegal.

  After the game, I used the last few kilojoules of energy left in my legs to run back to the changing rooms so I could get a cubicle.

  “Sweating much, Jemima?” Lottie said, then snort-laughed as I went past.

  “It’s all that extra weight,” said Pippa Williams, the team captain.

  They were each carrying an armful of hockey sticks and their mud-spattered legs still looked slim even with shin pads in their socks.

  “Well, she is officially obese,” Lottie replied.

  “You’re officially annoying,” I called behind me and quickly opened the door.

  I was about to walk into the changing room when I heard Alina say, “Leave her alone. It’s not funny. And by the way, Lottie, you’re sweating too.”

  I stopped and looked back down the corridor.

  Lottie stared at Alina for a moment then said, “Fine. Get your best friend Big to help you with these.” She dropped the hockey sticks she was carrying at Alina’s feet. Pippa looked at Lottie, then she did the same and they both ran towards the changing rooms, their high-pitched laughter echoing down the corridor. Pippa told me to get out of the way as they barged past. Alina watched them, then looked down at the pile of hockey sticks in front of her. I let the changing room door swing shut behind me.

  “Thanks,” Alina said as I helped put the sticks away in the sports cupboard. “I’m sorry for what Lottie’s been saying. She doesn’t mean it.”

  I shrugged. I didn’t believe that was true, but it was the first time I’d spoken to Alina in ages, so I didn’t say anything.

  “She thinks it’s funny.”

  “Then she must be missing part of her right frontal lobe,” I said.

  Alina smiled. “Where the sense of humour is in your brain, right? I remember.” She put the last hockey stick in the rack and closed the cupboard door. “Listen, Lottie said she’s going to get back at you. For beating her yesterday. She said you’ve knocked her out of the competition. I told her it’s stupid, but she doesn’t listen to what I think. She said something about the camping trip next week, so…”

  A wave of nausea went through my stomach.

  “I just wanted to warn you. I better go and get changed,” she said and jogged down the corridor.

  “Thanks,” I said, but it was too late for her to hear me.

  A couple of days later, when Jasper and I got back from school, Dad was in the living room holding a bright yellow box. He’d trimmed down his beard and it looked like he’d had a haircut for the first time in years.

  “Who’s that for?” Jasper asked, switching on the TV and plonking himself on the sofa.

  “I got a very exciting call today!” Dad said. “Jasper, turn the TV off for a minute, would you?”

  Jasper pressed the remote. “Is it Luna’s birthday?”

  “It’s no one’s birthday,” Dad said. “I was just about to tell your sister about a phone call I got today.”

  “Who from?” Jasper asked.

  Dad turned to me with the biggest smile in the history of humanity on his face and said, “It was from a certain producer of a certain TV show about a certain very clever young lady who has made the final fifteen!”

  Oh my actual God.

  My skin went ice cold. My chest felt tight. I felt like I might faint, right there on the living room carpet, while Dad smiled at me like he’d won the EuroMillions jackpot.

  “Isn’t it fantastic?” Dad hugged me, squashing me into the parcel he was holding. “Jemima! You did it! You’re going to be on Brainiacs! Can you believe it, Jasper?”

  “No,” Jasper said. “I can’t believe it.”

  I couldn’t believe it either. I was probably going to die from shock before I even got there. Everything Dad and Jasper were saying went silent as three thoughts raced through my mind:

  I’m going to be on Brainiacs.

  I’m going to be on Brainiacs.

  I’m going to be on Brainiacs.

  “Here’s a little present from me to say well done!” Dad put the yellow box in my hands. “Jem, are you all right?”

  I nodded, but my hands were shaking as I opened it. A label on top said Revise It Kit! in Dad’s handwriting. There were books, notepads, postcards, coloured stickers, highlighters, motivational quotes, a pencil case and sticky notes shaped like slices of watermelon.

  “Thanks, Dad, this is—”

  “EPIC!” Jasper said, peering in. “I need one for doing my GCSEs!”

  “The show’s being filmed on the twelfth of November, so…”

  “Oh my God,” I said. “That’s in less than three weeks!”

  “Listen.” Dad put his hands on my shoulders. “You won’t be studying for this on your own. Me and Jasper are here to help. And Luna will…erm, ask the universe for brainy energy or something. You’ve got us all behind you.” He took a step back, flexed his arm muscles and said, “TEAM SMALL!”

  I told Dad under no circumstances was he to do that on TV.

  I heard the back door fly open and Luna rushed in holding several calendars. She threw her arms around me then cupped my face tightly in her hands. My cheeks squashed together making my lips protrude about twenty centimetres.

  “I’m so proud of you, my angel!”

  I did not look like an angel. An angel fish, maybe.

  “What am I always telling you? The universe is always listening!”

  “Thanks, Luna,” I said, rubbing my cheeks. “But I hardly have any time to revise!”

  Luna’s face turned serious. “What date is the show?”

  Dad told her and she quickly sat down and spread out her calendars on the coffee table. One said Seasonal Energies and another was called The Flow of the Universe. One just had pictures of cats on it.

  Luna looked at them for a moment then sat up. “The First Quarter Moon,” she said. “The Goddess Anunit.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Is that…good?”

  Luna’s silvery eyes flashed. “The moon goddess of battle!”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  Dad started tidying up the calendars and said, “It means your auntie’s going to help you with your studying, isn’t that right, Luna?”

  Luna stood up and gripped my shoulders. “Forget studying, Jemima! You need a crystal.”

  The next morning was Friday and my arm was practically dead from the amount of times Miki had squeezed it on the way to form while shouting, “YOU’RE GOING TO BE ON TV!” Lottie didn’t look up as I walked in, but Mr Nelson greeted us wearing a cagoule and wellies over his suit.

  “Good morning, 8N! Here is your last visual reminder about some of the essentials you need to bring on the camping trip on Monday. There’s always someone who forgets to bring their underpants!”

  Everyone laughed.

  “And I think we all know who that’s likely to be…”

  Everyone looked at Caleb, who looked confused.

  I was officially dreading going camping. The only good thing about being in the middle of nowhere was the sky. I’d be able to see planets, distant galaxies, nebula clouds. Probably even some meteors burning up that looked like shooting stars. Maybe it was worth stepping in a few cowpats for that. I looked over at Lottie. As long as I watched out for the biggest cowpat of all.

  Mr Nelson handed out a camping-themed word search, and I was just highlighting excitement and telling Miki why that shouldn’t be on a word search about camping, when Mrs Savage walked in.

  “Good morning, Mr Nelson! Good morning, 8N! What a joy to see such a busy class!”

  Mr Nelson made us all say good morning to her like we were in primary school. I noticed her eyes resting on me.

  “I’ve popped in to say an enormous congratulations to Jemima – stand up! Come on! Don’t be shy!�
��

  I slowly pushed out my chair and pulled my blazer round my stomach. My cheeks felt hot as I stood in front of Mr Nelson’s desk and Mrs Savage cleared her throat.

  “8N, I am extremely delighted to tell you that Jemima has won a place representing Clifton Academy on Brainiacs!”

  She started clapping and everyone in my class joined in. Mr Nelson gave me a double handshake and Miki whooped and Afzal cheered and Erin gave me a one-person standing ovation and Alina beamed at me.

  Lottie clapped loudly and said, “Well done, Jemima! She only beat me by three points!” She had a smile the width of the equator plastered on her face.

  I tried to smile back, but it was like my face was allergic to her. I looked behind me at the collage of camping pictures Mr Nelson had put on the screen and thought about what Alina had said after PE. Could Lottie really come up with something worse than Camp Go Wild! itself?

  At lunchtime, grey cumulonimbus clouds were gathered in the sky pelting everyone with fat blobs of rain. I walked quickly to the sports hall, sheltering under my physics textbook. Inside, Gina was pumping up a giant beach ball.

  “Jemima!” she said. “Oh my goodness! Congratulations on Brainiacs! I was thrilled when your dad told me the news!”

  “Er, thanks,” I said, wiping my dripping textbook with a tissue. “My dad didn’t have to phone you about it.”

  “Don’t be silly! I’m so excited for you!”

  “No way!” Brandon shouted as he strode in. He patted the giant beach ball as if checking it was real. “We’re zorbing!”

  “Not zorbing, Brandon,” Gina said, pushing in the stopper. She began spinning the ball round expertly with her hands. “But it will be fun!”

  “Lame,” Brandon said, then immediately apologized.

  “Right. Find a space, everyone!” Gina ran over and handed each of us a blindfold. “I don’t want to make it too easy for you!”

  I looked at the giant orange ball rolling around on its axis. “We could be killed!” I said quietly to Heidi, but my voice echoed down the sports hall and Gina smiled at me.

  “It’s not going to kill you, Jemima! It only weighs a few kilos!”

  Maybe Gina hadn’t heard of Newton’s laws of motion, or noticed Brandon warming himself up like he was about to enter a boxing ring. I put on my blindfold and surrendered myself to my fate. At least if I was seriously injured, I’d get out of the camping trip.

  Brandon shouted, “Human bowling!”

  I pulled my blindfold off. “See?”

  “Yeah, tell him, miss,” Maya added.

  Gina laughed. “I’ll keep an eye on Brandon, don’t worry.”

  I sighed and fastened my blindfold back up while Gina explained the rules. It was basically a giant game of blind catch. If I ended up needing facial surgery, then I was definitely suing the school. And Brandon Taylor.

  Gina shouted “Go!” and I heard the ball bouncing towards me, the squeak of my trainers on the floor, the thump of my heart. It totally felt like human bowling. I put my arms out and prayed.

  “YES! You got it, Jemima!” Gina shouted. And I think I actually heard her smile.

  The games Gina made us play that lunchtime were definitely illegal. But after twenty minutes, my stomach muscles were hurting from laughing so much. Afterwards, we sat in a circle and Gina pulled some ice lollies out of a cool box.

  “A little treat for you all! Home-made ice lollies! Thought you might need cooling down!”

  We all looked at each other. It wasn’t telepathy, but I knew we were all thinking the same thing. The sports hall filled with our laughter.

  “What?” Gina said. “What’s so funny?”

  “Don’t tell me,” Nate said. “Avocado flavour.”

  “No.” Maya laughed. “Sweet potato!”

  Gina put her hands on her hips. “Oh, I see. Very funny!”

  “I know!” Brandon shouted. “Ming bean and wet grass!”

  Gina laughed. “It’s mung bean, Brandon, and wheatgrass. And no.”

  “Cashew nuts?” Heidi asked.

  “Cauliflower!” Harry shouted.

  Gina laughed and shook her head. “You are all very funny! But I really don’t think you’ll guess this one! Jemima?”

  I looked at the lollies slowly defrosting in her hands. “Dragon fruit?”

  Gina’s mouth dropped open. “She’s right!” She pulled a dragon fruit out of her handbag. “They’re dragon fruit and lime! I brought one in to show you! Amazing, Jemima! How did you know that?”

  I shrugged. “You always put weird things in stuff.”

  Gina laughed and everyone stared at me like they thought I was a genius. Or a Brainiac. But it wasn’t that. I’d seen the dragon fruit poking out of Gina’s handbag when I walked in.

  We ate the lollies while Gina told us about the nutritional value of dragon fruit and lime. She was a walking Wikipedia for fruit.

  “Now, Harry, Heidi, Jemima, here’s my exciting news! I’ve been asked to go on the Year Eight camping trip!” She smiled hard enough to emit a Wi-Fi signal. “Isn’t that brilliant!”

  “Great!” I said, and I hoped Gina couldn’t tell I was lying. Gina Grantley-Bond at Camp Go Wild! was the last thing in the world I wanted.

  Maybe you think I didn’t like Gina. That I didn’t want to see her gigantic seventy per cent smile while I was negotiating a field of guy ropes and cowpats. Or that I didn’t want to hear about the nutritional value of a roasted marshmallow. But it wasn’t that. At Camp Go Wild! I’d be doing abseiling, rock climbing, running and loads of other outdoor sports.

  I just didn’t want Gina to see me fail at everything.

  That weekend, I barely took my head out of a book. I made revision cards and mind maps, wrote lists, and covered all the possible quiz topics given in my official Brainiacs invitation letter. Any time I took a study break, I spent it begging Dad not to make me go camping. But even qualifying for Brainiacs doesn’t get you taken seriously in my family.

  On Sunday night, Dad came into my room holding a brown rucksack. It had badges sewn on the pockets saying: Camping is in-tents! and Life’s short, camp naked!

  “I found this in one of the boxes we cleared out of the garage!” he said. “Perfect, or what?”

  “If your definition of ‘perfect’ is me dying of humiliation, then yeah.”

  Dad actually laughed. Hermione jumped off my bed and started sniffing the rucksack. Even the cat could tell there was something wrong with it.

  I pointed to the camp naked badge. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Oh, lighten up! It’s only a joke! No one will even notice. I’m not buying a brand-new rucksack just for one camping trip.” Dad unzipped it and I’m pretty sure a moth flew out. “They don’t make rucksacks like this any more!”

  “There’s a good reason for that. I’m going to be the laughing stock of Year Eight. Where’s the rucksack Jasper took when he went?”

  “Ah, yes. Good question. In fact, it’s probably still at Camp Go Wild! That Brandon Taylor threw it in the lake, apparently. Anyway, this one’s far sturdier. I can’t believe I almost dumped this at the tip!”

  “That would have been a real tragedy.” I looked through the camping stuff he was bringing in from the landing, wondering if my life could get any worse.

  “Ah-ha! Here they are!” Dad held up two waterproof trouser legs, the colour of desert camouflage. “My old gaiters! These bad boys will keep your legs dry when you’re wading through the river!”

  “I won’t be wading.” I picked up the Camp Go Wild! brochure to double-check. “It doesn’t say anything about wading. Or army-issue gaiters. The only thing we’re doing on the river is kayaking. Which is the main reason I’m hoping to get abducted by aliens tonight.”

  “Jemima!” Dad said. “It won’t be that bad! But, if it’s anything like the camping trips I remember from school, you won’t stay in the kayak very long. That’s when these beauties will come in handy!”

  I pictured trying t
o get in a kayak like the one in the Camp Go Wild! brochure. I imagined it wobbling and tipping over, and splashing into freezing cold water wearing my dad’s gaiters, and probably catching Weil’s disease, while my whole year laughed at me.

  “Do I really have to go? Can’t I stay here and revise for Brainiacs instead? That’s more important than camping. The show’s only two weeks away. I can’t risk serious injury.”

  Dad smiled. “You’ll have a good time once you’re there. You don’t want to be the only one in your whole year not going.”

  “I wouldn’t be! Jennifer Simons in Miki’s maths class isn’t going.”

  Dad thought for a moment. “Isn’t she the one who’s just had her appendix out?”

  I sighed. Why did I always tell Dad stuff like that?

  “So, I’ll leave you to pack. Oh, and don’t forget your swimsuit.”

  “My swimsuit?” My skin went cold as though I’d been submerged in icy water.

  “Yeah, for under your wetsuit. For the games in the lake.”

  “But it says on the website they don’t do swimming in the lake in October.”

  “Only if the temperature’s dropped, which it hasn’t. Mr Nelson’s email said that the first activity is water polo. I thought you knew.”

  “Oh my God.” I could not imagine anything worse than wearing a wetsuit in front of my entire year. Even getting Weil’s disease would be better than that. “Please don’t make me go.”

  “Jemima,” Dad said, kneeling next to me on the floor, “you’ve got to stop worrying about this weight thing. Heidi and Harry will be there, won’t they? And Miki? And Gina?”

  I nodded.

  “I’m telling you – everyone will be so excited to be there, no one will give you a second glance.”

  Maybe I could take a T-shirt to wear over my wetsuit. And maybe Dad’s gaiters to cover my legs. Hippocrates knew what he was talking about when he said desperate times call for desperate measures.

  “It looks like a beautiful lake!” Dad said. “It will be wonderful! They do it in all the Scandinavian countries, and look how healthy they are! If I was going, I don’t think I’d bother with any swimwear at all. There is nothing quite like swimming in the nude!”