“Dad!” I put my hands over my face.
Jasper shouted, “GROSS!” from across the landing.
Dad laughed. “You’ll have so much fun, you’ll come back wondering why you made such a fuss about it.”
“If I come back,” I said. “We’re foraging for our own food. I might accidentally eat poisonous mushrooms.”
“Jemima, don’t eat poisonous mushrooms just to get out of swimming. You don’t want to be in a tent with severe vomiting and diarrhoea, do you? How embarrassing would that be?”
Dad was right.
“I could fall down a ravine.”
“Don’t fall down a ravine. At least not without a rope attached.”
“You wouldn’t fit down a ravine!” Jasper shouted.
Dad paced across the landing and put his head into Jasper’s bedroom. “Stop it, Jasper. Maybe I should tell her about how you were so scared of the dark you had to sleep in the teachers’ lodge! Now, see if Luna needs some help with dinner, will you? She said something about nettle soup earlier. Check she wasn’t serious.”
“Dad, there are many health benefits to eating nettles,” I said. “Including lowering stress levels.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah, so you should probably have seconds.”
Dad tutted. “Ask Miki if he wants a lift in the morning,” he said and went downstairs.
I put the gaiters over my leggings and looked in the mirror. They looked absurd. I took a photo and sent it to Miki.
He replied:
WHAT ARE THEY
I replied:
I literally don’t know
my dad’s
like massive waterproof socks!
want a lift to school tomo?
Miki replied:
ok. what time?
I picked up the camping letter then typed:
omg coach leaves at 6am!!!!!
Miki replied:
noooooooo
I tipped out the contents of the rucksack to see what else Dad had packed. There was a torch with spare batteries, knitted jumpers, and one of those silver blankets in case you get hypothermia, which sounded pretty likely. A small packet that said EMERGENCY PONCHO. The rain would have to be at monsoon level for me to consider wearing that in front of people. Dad had thought of everything. A first-aid kit, bobble hat, baby wipes. A flare! We were camping in the middle of nowhere, I suppose. And it might be needed to scare away wild animals. I stuffed it back in the rucksack. There was Travel Scrabble, a pack of cards, energy bars. I pulled out a pink box. It looked brand new. Maybe Dad had bought me a special present for the trip!
I opened it. SHECANWEE: the perfect device for urinating outdoors.
I had one thought: Just kill me now.
“Straight lines!” Mr Nelson yelled across the car park.
I moved forward, trying to suppress a yawn. Being at school before 6 a.m. should be illegal.
“I want a perfect metre between each form class!” Mr Nelson was in full Roman dictator mode. If Roman dictators wore high-visibility cagoules.
“Nice rucksack, Jemima!” Lottie said, cutting in front of us. “I hope you’re not going to camp naked. I think I’d be sick.”
I looked at Miki, but he had his headphones on and was singing “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” to himself and our entire line.
“It’s a joke, Lottie,” I said. “Anyway, it’s not mine. It’s my dad’s.”
“Your dad camps naked? Ewww!” she squealed, and shouted down the line, “Jemima’s dad’s a NUDIST!”
Miki pulled his headphones off just as Mr Nelson walked past.
“Really, Lottie? That is fascinating! Jemima’s dad’s a nudist!” Mr Nelson smiled at me, then turned back to Lottie. “I must say, I never noticed at parents’ evening last year!”
“He’s not a nudist, Mr Nelson,” I said. “He’s a painter. It’s just this joke on his rucksack.”
“Lottie thinks she’s funny,” Miki said.
“I see!” Mr Nelson said, tucking his clipboard under his arm. “A comedian! Do you know – I love hearing jokes! Especially on long journeys. Congratulations, Lottie, you’ve just been upgraded to first class.”
“W-what?” Lottie said.
Mr Nelson smiled. “Also known as the seat next to me on the coach. Hop in!”
I smiled and Miki gave me a high five.
“That will keep Rat Face quiet for a few hours,” he said. “Hey, isn’t that Gina?”
I turned round and saw Gina coming straight towards me.
“Maybe she wants to tell you the nutritional content of cowpat.”
“Hi, Jemima!” Gina beamed at me. “Isn’t this exciting? I’ve just spoken to Heidi and Harry and I’ve asked Mr Nelson to put you three in my group so I can give you some extra support. But really it’s so we can have some extra fun!” She lifted off the ground a little bit when she said that. “Apparently there’s a mud challenge tomorrow!”
I was too tired to ask what a mud challenge was. The name suggested it wouldn’t be the highlight of my camping experience.
“I thought we could do some extra swimming after the water polo, if you like? Instead of kayaking? As we’ll already be in our wetsuits. I just love swimming outdoors! And there’s a hike to an old fort we could do instead of the abseiling, if you’d prefer? Heidi said she doesn’t like heights, and I thought you’d probably enjoy the history! Mr Nelson said it’s fine.”
I had to blink a few times to check I was definitely awake. Did Gina just get me out of abseiling and kayaking?
She held up her hands for a high ten and said, “AWESOME!”
I clapped my hands against hers. Gina was way better than an Empress on a tarot card. She was a real-life sporty guardian angel.
I fell asleep against the coach window and woke up to Miki jabbing my arm saying, “We’re here!”
I rubbed my eyes. A sign saying CAMP GO WILD! stared out at me from a hedge.
“I lost my phone signal about half an hour ago,” Miki said. “Check yours.”
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. “No bars,” I said. “But I packed Travel Scrabble!”
Miki chucked his travel pillow at me.
Our coach parked in a clearing next to a huge forest where Mr Nelson dropped the bombshell that we’d be walking to camp. Two miles.
“Don’t disturb any of the wildlife!” he called after we’d all collected our bags. “Observe don’t disturb! That’s the countryside motto!”
“Two miles?” I said to Miki.
“Wildlife?” he replied. We stared at each other. “They’d better have Wi-Fi at this camp.” He put his rucksack on both shoulders. “And waffles.”
We’d been walking for about half an hour when we climbed over a stile straight into a field of cows.
“Forward!” Mr Nelson said.
A few people followed him, but the rest of us stayed in the corner by the fence.
“Come on! Observe don’t disturb! Cows are completely harmless!”
“Cows kill five people a year,” I said, leaning against the fence to get my breath back. “And probably injure hundreds more. They look slow-moving,” I explained to a small crowd gathering, “but they are actually lethal predators. They can run at forty miles per hour.”
Mr Nelson stopped. He surveyed the growing group of people assembling near me by the fence. “Are you going to believe me, a Duke of Edinburgh Award Leader and Head of History, or Year Eight student, Jemima Small?”
“But,” Afzal said, “she is going on Brainiacs, sir.”
A cow mooed loudly and a few people jumped.
Mr Nelson put his hands on his hips. “Right, well, if Jemima’s correct about these cows being killing machines, you don’t want to wait here like sitting ducks, do you? Onward!”
Slowly everyone started walking. I stayed towards the back, and Miki stuck close next to me. This walk was definitely against our human rights.
“Come on, you two!” Mr Nelson said. “Pick up the pace a b
it!”
I looked at the empty signal bars on my phone. “Mr Nelson,” I called, “if there’s an emergency, how do we make a call when there’s no signal?”
Mr Nelson laughed. “You shout ‘HELP!’ like we did in the olden days!”
I was so glad Dad had packed me that flare.
After a while, a blue triangular flag appeared in the distance.
“Nearly there!” Mr Nelson shouted. “Head for the flag!”
I could make out a line of people waving flags of different colours like they were trying to tell us something. Or maybe warn us. It’s this thing from the olden days called semaphore, a bit like Morse code. The way you hold each flag signifies a letter of the alphabet. It was probably the way people had to communicate around here because of getting no phone signal.
Once we arrived in camp, we didn’t even get a proper rest before we had to put up our tents. I dumped my rucksack in the grass, then Heidi, Jaz, Erin and I put up our tent. Other people were struggling with theirs, but it was simple logic really. Plus, we all got a set of instructions. Ms Fraser said ours was looking the best, so we were “rewarded” by being made to help everyone else.
“Great job, Jemima!” Gina said, holding a cup of something that smelled like hot chocolate, but probably had broccoli or something in it.
Miki almost tripped over our guy ropes on his way over. He was wearing luminous orange waterproof trousers.
“Don’t say anything!” he said. “Mum was worried about me getting lost on the orienteering.”
“She’ll probably be able to see you orienteering all the way from Clifton in those!” Gina said, laughing.
I smiled. “They’re probably visible from space.” I turned to Gina. “Which one’s your tent, just in case there’s an emergency?”
“Oh, I’m staying in the teachers’ lodge over there.” She pointed to a cosy-looking cottage at the edge of the field. It was so typical of our teachers to make us get hypothermia while they stayed in luxury accommodation. “The team leaders are camping out here with you.”
I picked up my rucksack. “Oh no!”
It had been sitting in a giant cowpat.
“Gross!” I said, pulling out a packet of baby wipes.
“Oh, don’t worry, Jemima!” Gina said. “It’s only a bit of fertilizer! Won’t do you any harm.” She started walking towards the meeting point. “It’s pure NPK!”
“What does that even mean?” Miki asked, taking a baby wipe and helping me clean off my bag.
“Thanks. Oh, nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium, probably. Notice she didn’t mention the dangerous pathogens or high levels of ammonia! This whole camp is a deathtrap.”
Miki smiled. “You literally know the nutritional value of a cowpat,” he said, wiping his hands.
I went to the toilet block while the other girls got changed. I deliberately took ages, so they’d gone to the meeting point before I got back. I got undressed, put my swimsuit on, my clothes back on over the top, then pulled Dad’s gaiters over my jogging bottoms. I was sweating by the time I’d finished. I couldn’t believe I’d been worried about hypothermia. Our tent was like a sauna.
I unzipped the doors just as Mr Nelson’s voice came booming through a loudhailer.
“Hurry up getting changed, all of you! It’s not a fashion parade!”
Like I needed him to tell me that. I was wearing my dad’s gaiters.
“Assemble at the meeting point! Last group here will be on lunchtime washing-up duty!”
It was exactly like camping with my dad.
In a few minutes, I had to put on a wetsuit in front of all the girls in my year. If they even had one that would fit me. I’d never wanted to stay inside a tent so badly in my entire life. Even one that stank of cowpat. I zipped the tent back up and slowly headed over to the meeting point, watching the Camp Go Wild! team leaders’ flags whipping in the wind. And I wondered what the semaphore was for “help”.
I was sitting at the side of the lake at Camp Go Wild! with my towel wrapped around me, half-freezing. I’d told Frankie, our team leader, that I couldn’t swim. She didn’t believe me. She already had a list of non-confident swimmers, apparently. She’d told me I’d regret it later. That I wouldn’t be cold in the water because the wetsuit’s insulation would keep me warm. But I already knew that. Anyway, I’d been told when I was putting it on in the changing rooms that I didn’t need one because my blubber would keep me warm.
I looked over at the lake. Everyone was playing water polo with a giant ball and hoola-hoops for goals. Whoops and cheers and screams and laughter carried over on the wind.
“You sure you don’t want to join in?” Frankie shouted from the water. Her hand was over her eyes, shielding them from the sun. You could make out almost every muscle in her arm.
I shook my head. Nothing could convince me to let the whole of Year Eight see me in skintight neoprene.
I spotted Heidi’s head in the water. I wished I hadn’t been so slow getting my wetsuit on, then I could have gone in with her. I took my phone out of my bag. Still no signal. This whole campsite was from the Stone Age. I checked the grass for cowpats, then lay down and looked up at the thick clouds. I doubted I’d even be able to see any stars later. Borrowing Jasper’s binoculars had been a waste of time. I wondered if he’d realized I’d taken them by now.
“Jemima!”
Gina. The last person I wanted to see. She probably looked like a goddess even in a wetsuit. She could never understand how I felt. I stayed lying down, looking up at the clouds.
“Why aren’t you playing?”
I decided to keep it vague. “I don’t feel very well.”
“Oh,” she said, and I heard her walk onto the wooden deck next to the lake. I didn’t move, just watched the clouds forming different shapes in the sky.
“Not well, huh? I used to say that any time someone invited me to swim,” she said.
I lifted my head, and propped myself up on my arms.
She was sitting on the edge of the deck with her feet dangling in the water. “Now, I couldn’t care less if people stare. Or give me those second glances, or nudge their friend to point me out. Because I love swimming. If they don’t like what they see, that’s their problem.”
I sat up, so I could see her properly. “Why would people do that to you? Your body’s, like…perfect.”
She turned round and smiled. “Thanks, Jemima! That’s exactly how I feel about it too! But some people do like to stare at my leg.” She swivelled her legs out of the water. She was wearing a thigh-length wetsuit and on her right leg, below her knee, there was a turquoise prosthetic. It was patterned, like the scales of a mermaid. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before. Gina smiled like she was reading my mind. “My usual one is a bit more subtle. This is my aqua-limb! It’s water-resistant.” She stretched out her legs and turned her face to the sky. “It is a pretty cool prosthetic. Maybe that’s why people stare.”
I smiled. “Because of the mermaid scales?”
“Exactly!” Gina laughed. “They could be jealous. It is a lot more interesting to look at than boring old skin.” She walked over and sat next to me on the grass. “You know, Jemima, some people spend their entire lives not doing the things they want because they’re worried about what people think. But, you know what really matters?”
“What people think?”
“No!” Gina tipped her head back and laughed. A laugh that came all the way from her belly. It was sort of infectious. “What matters the most is what you think. About yourself. Am I going to not wear a swimming costume or shorts in the summer because a few people might stare at my prosthetic? Am I going to believe I should hide myself away?”
I shrugged and looked out at the lake. “Maybe.”
“No, Jemima,” she said. “I’m not going to think like that. There are enough barriers in place for someone like me; I’m not going to add even more.” She looked out at the waves splashing against the wooden deck. “I used to hate people
staring, you know, when I was younger. But now, if people stare at me because my body doesn’t look exactly like theirs, then good!”
“Good?” I said. “How can people staring be good?”
Gina fixed her eyes on me. “Because it reminds me that I’m no longer hiding away. I’m not avoiding doing the things I love – like swimming – just because of what my leg looks like. I don’t put limits on what I can do because of what other people think of my body. Not any more. I focus on how my body feels. To me. So those looks I get sometimes? They remind me that I decided not to be invisible.”
She stared at me for a moment. “Our bodies share the same elements as stars, Jemima. We’re literally made of star dust! But you already knew that, right?” As she said that a huge cheer came from the lake. “Looks like they’ve scored!” She stood up and walked onto the deck. “I know you’re smart, Jemima. You’re a Brainiac now! So if you want to spend your life sitting on the sidelines, hiding your body in a Spider-Man towel, that’s up to you. But from here, it looks like our team’s losing.” She tapped her finger on her lip. “If only we had someone on our team who could shoot.”
It took me about ten seconds to make up my mind. I made a much bigger splash jumping into the lake than Gina. But then, my team were seven goals down, so they kind of needed someone to make a big splash. When Frankie blew the whistle for the end of the game, we were two goals up. Six of them scored by me. It’s called deciding not to be invisible.
Later, in the changing rooms, drying myself on literally the most embarrassing towel Dad could have found in the airing cupboard, I thought about what Gina had said. And I thought about the stars. How they’re held together by their own gravity. The biggest kind of star is a hypergiant. They’re the rarest type of star too, and the brightest thing out of everything that exists in the universe. I looked at my body in the mirror. Maybe I just got a little bit of extra star dust.
It was pitch-black. I was lying in my sleeping bag with my head poking out of the tent and the door zipped up just above my face. My legs were aching from hiking about eight thousand miles up a hill to the ruins of an Iron-Age fort and I felt kind of sick after eating a bag of Gina’s “delicious” home-made marshmallows. But the sky looked a thousand times more incredible than I’d imagined. It was such a good idea to bring Jasper’s binoculars. I could see everything – star clusters, meteors, nebula clouds, the Andromeda Galaxy spiralling its way towards ours. It was kind of mind-blowing. All that energy – burning, exploding, colliding and fusing. Down here it was almost completely still and silent. Apart from Heidi’s snoring.
Jemima Small Versus the Universe Page 19