Emily's Tiara Trouble

by Samantha Turnbull

  She sets three cups in front of Yiayia and me. We taste the different mixtures and carefully consider each one.

  ‘Definitely number two,’ I say.

  Yiayia gives a thumbs-up in agreement. ‘The second batch is the best,’ she says. ‘Nice and sweet.’

  Chloe makes some notes and tips out the first and third mixtures. Then she joins us in the lounge room and scans Yiayia’s collection of dusty books. ‘Yiayia, can you quiz us on the planets?’ she asks. ‘There’s a science fair coming up at school and I’m thinking of making a diorama of the solar system.’

  As she hands Yiayia an encyclopedia we hear the thunder of footsteps running upstairs.

  Alex bolts in and kisses Yiayia excitedly. ‘I have great news,’ he says. ‘I got the St Edmund’s scholarship!’

  Alex has been studying for a bunch of tests to get into boarding school. Not only do you have to be smart, you usually need a lot of money. A scholarship means he gets to go for free. This is big.

  Yiayia rises to her feet and I grab her arm to keep her steady.

  ‘Congratulations, paidi mou,’ she says, pinching Alex’s cheeks. ‘I am so proud of you.’

  Paidi mou means ‘my child’ – Yiayia says it to Chloe and me sometimes too.

  Chloe mumbles, ‘Congratulations,’ and stares at the floor. Alex looks at her, waiting for a better response to his news.

  ‘That’s exciting, Alex,’ I say to break the silence.

  Alex nods in my direction. ‘Thank you, Emily.’

  He looks at Chloe once more. ‘I thought you’d be excited, Chloe. Mum and Dad always said that if I got this scholarship you could take my place in the restaurant kitchen. You’ll be earning some good pocket money.’

  Chloe had been afraid of this moment ever since Alex started studying.

  Someone would have to replace him in the restaurant on weekends, and it wouldn’t be Yiayia.

  Every recess and lunch break, Bella, Grace, Chloe and I sit at the same picnic table in the playground.

  Bella even carved our initials on the tabletop to mark our territory. I’m pretty sure our teacher, Ms Bayliss, has seen the graffiti, but she turned a blind eye.

  Bella is one of Ms Bayliss’s pets. It’s not because Bella’s a suck-up. It’s because she loves class projects and always thinks of the most creative ways to present them.

  Today Ms Bayliss brought in hundreds of icypole sticks and some glue. She told us to make a cube, but Bella thought that was a little easy, so she made a skyscraper of cubes. It has nineteen floors and a rooftop deck. It would make a great hotel for ladybirds.

  ‘Bella, what are you daydreaming about now?’ I laugh as I open my backpack.

  Bella’s imagination gets carried away when she’s dreaming of all the things she can sketch and build. She’s staring straight through Grace, Chloe and me across the table. ‘Oh, you know, I was just thinking of building a life-size hotel.’

  Bella can be honest with us. Friends don’t make fun of each other’s big ideas.

  Grace stands up, puts her heel on top of the table and bends over into a stretch.

  ‘You know what else you could build?’ she says. ‘A stadium! Maybe I could make my Olympic debut inside!’

  I wonder how many seats an Olympic stadium would need. Before I can start to calculate, Chloe peels the lid from a container and a sweet, buttery smell wafts out.

  ‘Anyone want to try some baklava?’ she asks. ‘It’s my new secret recipe.’

  We reach for the pastries. The sticky goodness makes us all groan.

  ‘Mmmmmmm, Chloe, this is amazing,’ I say. ‘You really are a great cook.’

  Chloe slumps onto the bench. ‘Maybe that’s my problem,’ she sighs. ‘Maybe if I wasn’t such a good cook my parents wouldn’t want me working in the restaurant and then I could keep my weekends for myself.’

  ‘I thought your brother worked in the restaurant on weekends, Chloe,’ Bella says.

  ‘He’s going to boarding school,’ Chloe says. ‘So I’m sure Mum and Dad will want me to take his place. I don’t want to be a chef. I want to be a biologist or geologist or one of the other jobs ending in “ologist”. It’s SO unfair.’

  Grace puts her arm around Chloe’s shoulders. ‘Well, I’d rather work in a restaurant than keep going to ballet,’ she says. ‘All I want to do is athletics but Mum and Dad say it’s a waste of time. They don’t think girls should take sport seriously. It’s SO unfair.’

  I frown. I’m getting angry. Bella, Grace and Chloe brace themselves. They’re used to my outbursts.

  ‘That’s it!’ I yell. ‘Why do girls get one set of rules and boys another?’

  I clench my fists and start stomping around the picnic table. If I were a cartoon character I would have steam shooting out of my ears right now. ‘My mum says girls need to pull out their eyebrows and paint their faces to look pretty! No one cares what boys look like. It’s SO unfair!’

  The girls look perplexed.

  Chloe speaks up. ‘Did you say your mum thinks girls need to pull out their eyebrows?’

  ‘Yes!’ I screech.

  My three friends burst into a fit of giggles. They have a tendency to do that. I join them when I realise they’ve never heard anything as absurd as removing a part of your face.

  ‘We might only be ten, but sometimes I think we’re a whole lot smarter than adults,’ I say.

  Bella’s smile fades and I realise she has been a little quiet while listening to the rest of us whine about our parents.

  ‘Bella, you’re lucky you’ve got such a fantastic mum and dad,’ I say. ‘Grace’s won’t let her play sport, Chloe’s want her to work in a restaurant and my mum is telling me to pull out my hair.’

  We all giggle again. But Bella doesn’t look so sure.

  ‘I’m really sick of Mum and Dad treating me like a princess,’ she says.

  I know what Bella means, but some people think being treated like a princess is a good thing. Princesses live in amazing castles – Bella lives in an amazing mansion. Princesses are showered in gifts from their subjects – Bella is showered in gifts from her parents. And princesses are really rich – Bella’s family is the richest I know.

  ‘The princesses in those fairytales Mum buys have the most boring lives,’ Bella says. ‘They’re pampered and spoilt and sheltered and no one knows anything about who they really are. Mum and Dad try hard to pamper and spoil me with toys and books and computer games, but they don’t really know me either. I spend most of my time with the babysitter.’

  I gulp. Bella’s story could actually be the saddest of all. Grace, Chloe and I might complain about our parents, but we still love them, and the thought of not seeing them every day is very depressing.

  I take Bella’s hand. ‘It’s hard having my dad away in the Army, but at least I’ve got my crazy mum.’

  Bella smiles. She’s right that her parents don’t seem to know her. As one of her best friends, I can vouch for the fact she is not a fairytale sort of girl. None of us are. Bella loves to paint and draw and sculpt and build things.

  ‘I don’t want to be a brat and complain about the things they give me,’ Bella says. ‘But if they had more time with me, they’d get to know I don’t want to be a boring old fairytale princess. What do any of them even do, other than look pretty and get rescued by princes?’

  Bella has a funny way of putting it, but being treated like a princess isn’t a good thing if you really think about it. Princesses aren’t designers like Bella, athletes like Grace, scientists like Chloe or mathematicians like me.

  The bell rings and we grab our bags.

  ‘I just don’t like princesses,’ says Bella. ‘I’m an anti-princess.’

  We all link arms and head back to class.

  I think we’re all anti-princesses.

  Chloe’s biting her fingernails. She doesn’t want school to end today. Every tick towards three o’clock brings her closer to the big question from her mum and dad.

  ‘The
y still haven’t officially asked me to take Alex’s place on the weekends,’ she says. ‘They were too busy celebrating his scholarship last night to bring it up.’

  We look at the clock. Tick, tick. Tick. Tick.

  ‘Is it okay if I come over to your place?’ I ask. ‘Mum doesn’t mind.’

  Chloe nods. Yiayia loves it when Chloe’s friends come over. She says the energy in the room is infectious.

  The bell rings and everyone sweeps their books and pencil cases into their bags.

  I start the short walk with Chloe back to her place.

  ‘Why do you want to come over?’ she asks.

  ‘Mum’s got lots of clients this afternoon so I don’t want to go home for a while,’ I say. ‘Lots of crazy old ladies with layers of goop on their faces. They always want to pinch me and tell me how pretty I am.’

  I guess I am pretty. I have long red hair, big green eyes and freckles across my nose. We are all pretty in different ways. Grace has short blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes and long arms and legs. Bella has brown skin, curly dark hair and braces on her teeth. Chloe has wavy black hair, olive skin and funky glasses.

  But we’re not obsessed with trying to look good. I can think of better ways to spend my time than sitting in front of a hairdresser’s mirror or traipsing around shopping centres searching for new outfits that will be out of fashion in the blink of an eye.

  Chloe and I arrive at the restaurant and walk upstairs to her apartment. Yiayia is in the kitchen brewing tea.

  ‘Welcome home, paidi mou,’ Yiayia says to Chloe. ‘Your mama and baba are out buying supplies.’

  I can see the relief on Chloe’s face. She’s escaped the kitchen proposition for now.

  ‘Emily!’ Yiayia opens her arms for a hug. ‘How lovely it is to see you.’

  I squeeze her tight.

  We take a seat and Yiayia brings us chamomile tea. ‘Tell me what is happening in your worlds, my girls,’ she says.

  We look sideways at each other. Where do we start?

  ‘We’re having problems with our parents,’ I say. ‘All of us – Bella, Grace, me and Chloe.’

  Yiayia raises an eyebrow at Chloe. ‘What are your problems? I won’t tell your mama and baba if it’s a secret.’

  Chloe takes a sip of tea and sighs. ‘Alex says Mum and Dad want me to replace him in the restaurant kitchen. And you know I don’t want to do that. I’d rather spend my weekends behind a microscope than a sink.’

  Yiayia shakes her head dismissively.

  ‘Nothing is set in stone, paidi mou,’ she says. ‘Wait and see what they say. And anyway, you might be able to use the money you make washing dishes to buy that new microscope – it is expensive, no?’

  Chloe shrugs. Even the thought of earning cash to buy science stuff doesn’t make her want to work in the restaurant.

  Yiayia stares into the distance. She has the faraway look in her eyes that she often gets when she’s thinking about the olden days. ‘My dear girls, how lucky you are to have such good friends,’ she says. ‘I remember when I was your age I had a group of friends just like all of you. We shared all sorts of secrets. We probably had a lot more problems, mind you, because our parents were a lot more old-fashioned.’

  I find it hard to believe that Yiayia’s parents could be more old-fashioned than ours.

  Yiayia takes a black-and-white photograph off the mantelpiece. It’s of a girl with wavy black hair like Chloe’s. She’s wearing a long white dress, frilly socks and sandals. And she has a huge frown on her face.

  ‘This is me,’ Yiayia says. ‘Do you know, girls weren’t even encouraged to finish school in those days? The only things we were taught properly were sewing, cooking and cleaning. Our shoes always had to be polished and we only wore dresses. And there were so many rules … we weren’t allowed to giggle, or raise our voices, or run in public.’

  Chloe and I drop our jaws in shock.

  ‘You weren’t allowed to giggle?’ asks Chloe incredulously.

  Yiayia shakes her head. ‘Oh, it was very unfair,’ she says. ‘Tromeros!’

  Tromeros means ‘terrible’ in Greek – I’ve heard Yiayia say it before.

  Yiayia’s expression becomes mischievous. Her voice drops to a whisper. ‘That’s why my friends and I started our own secret girls’ club,’ she says. ‘We met every week in my parents’ shed. It was a place we could be ourselves and solve problems together. No adults were allowed and the boys weren’t interested.’

  This is the first time Chloe or I have heard Yiayia mention any club. She must have been saving the story for a special moment like this. It sounds like an incredible idea.

  I turn at once to face Chloe, and I can tell we’re thinking exactly the same thing.

  I run home from Chloe’s as quick as my feet will carry me. I’m not as fast as Grace, of course, but it takes me about two minutes to run four hundred metres. That’s roughly three-point-three metres per second. My brain just won’t stop doing sums.

  I fling the front door open and head for my room. Before I get halfway down the hall a thin, orange-skinned woman with stiff super-blonde hair steps out of the torture chamber.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I say as I try to pass.

  The woman grabs my shoulders and leans down into my face. She’s so close that I can smell her perfume. It reminds me of toilet cleaner.

  ‘My oh my, Emily, I could just eat you up,’ she says.

  Part of me is scared that she could actually eat me up. She looks hungry, and I can see her shoulder bones poking up through the skin. I want to suggest she try a hamburger, but I bite my tongue.

  ‘My name is Fiona,’ she says. ‘We’re going to become very good friends over the next few weeks.’

  I have no idea what Fiona is talking about, but I can hear her tummy rumbling. I decide I’ll call her Hungry in my head. I force a pretend smile and try again to make my way past her spindly outstretched arms.

  ‘Emily, is that you?’ Mum calls. ‘Have you met Fiona?’

  This is why I went to Chloe’s place straight after school. Meeting Mum’s clients gets in the way of valuable computer time.

  Mum walks out of the beauty room with a weird metal contraption in her hand. I think it’s for curling eyelashes.

  ‘You were right, Lesley,’ Hungry tells her. ‘Emily’s hair is gorgeous. It will really stand out under the stage lights.’

  Stage lights? What is she talking about? I look at Lesley, AKA Mum, suspiciously.

  ‘Emily, we’ve got a surprise for you,’ Mum says.

  She leads us to the living room and we all sit on the couch – me, Mum and Hungry.

  Hungry gestures towards the coffee table. I see a brochure on it. I don’t pick it up, so Mum grabs it and waves it in my face wildly. It’s too close for my eyes to focus properly.

  ‘You’re going to be a star,’ Hungry says. ‘You’re a knockout, Emily. I’m sure you’ll win. I’ve never had a girl as pretty as you in any of my events.’

  Win? Win what? I snatch the brochure from Mum and begin to feel dizzy as I read.

  I’m lost for words. Mum and Hungry look at me expectantly.

  ‘Fiona is organising the beauty pageant that’s coming to town,’ Mum says. ‘Ava’s going in it too.’

  My head spins. All I can manage to do is throw the brochure on the floor and run from the room.

  ‘Emily, where are you going?’ Mum calls.

  I count the steps as I run upstairs. One, two, three … thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. The numbers help to keep my blood from boiling.

  I burst into my room, slam the door behind me and hit the power button on my computer.

  The email I’m about to type is now more important than ever.

  ‘Earth to Bella!’ Ms Bayliss says. ‘I just asked if you could tell me what colour you get if you mix blue and yellow.’

  Luckily this is an easy question for an artist like Bella. ‘Green,’ she says, as if she’d been listening all along.

  Bella grins at our teach
er. Ms Bayliss knows she likes to daydream. But today Bella’s doing more than just daydreaming. She’s thinking about our new club – we all are. I just want recess to hurry up and come, but the morning seems to be the slowest in history (I know that’s not mathematically possible, by the way).

  Class finally finishes and we dash to the picnic table with Grace and Chloe.

  Everyone sits and stares at me, waiting for me to speak first. I was the one who called us here, so I guess it’s only fair that I start.

  ‘Welcome to the first meeting of the Anti-Princess Club,’ I say. ‘Chloe and I got the idea for a club from Yiayia. Do you like the name?’

  They all squeal at once: ‘YESSSSSSS!’

  I knew they would. I’ve never had an argument with any of my best friends.

  Grace jumps up from her seat. ‘We should have a motto,’ she says. ‘All the best sports clubs have mottos.’

  I think back to our conversation yesterday when Bella complained about how unfair it was that princesses in fairytales always needed to be rescued by princes.

  ‘Well, we’re not a sports club,’ I say. ‘But how about “We Don’t Need Rescuing”?’

  ‘Yes!’ they all squeal again.

  I pull out my pencil and notepad.

  The Anti-Princess Club: We Don’t Need Rescuing Missions

  Chloe peers over my shoulder. ‘What does “Missions” mean?’ she asks.

  ‘You know how Yiayia said the friends in her club helped each other solve their problems?’ I ask. ‘I thought we could do the same. We could set missions to complete together.’

  Bella pumps her fists. ‘Yes!’ she says. ‘What should our first mission be?’

  I pace around the picnic table just like yesterday.

  ‘Anti-princesses,’ I say, ‘my mum is entering Ava and me in a beauty pageant.’

  I watch them all shudder. A contest based on prettiness? Everyone knows my awesome talent is maths. Mum should be entering me in a long division, multiplication or geometry contest. But a beauty pageant? Talk about spew-worthy.