by Ann Bryant
“Let’s go and sit down in the secret garden,” was all she said.
We walked in silence and I wondered if there was any way I could still get away without mentioning dyslexia, and yet explain why I’d deceived all my friends by never mentioning my visits to Miss Cardwell. But then, there really wasn’t any point in hiding anything any more. Even the dyslexia. I may as well just come straight out with the truth. It was definitely going to come out sooner or later. It would be awful and shameful, but I had no choice.
As soon as we sat down on the bench in the secret garden, I started talking in a flat voice.
“I have to go to Miss Cardwell because I can’t spell…”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She didn’t get it.
“I mean I can’t even spell as well as a little kid in Year Four or something. I’ve just been pretending. I’m useless at reading and writing and it’ll probably take ages before I get any better.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She really wasn’t listening properly.
“I mean I’ve been going to Miss Cardwell for ages and I didn’t tell you because it’s embarrassing. But it’s worse than just not telling you, I actually lied to you ages ago when Isis and Sophie asked about what Miss Cardwell said. It wasn’t because I was ill that I did badly on the test. I lied about that too.”
“I know.”
How could she have known?
“I don’t think you do, Grace.” I looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m saying I’m dyslexic – at least, Miss Cardwell’s pretty certain I am. It’s just got to be confirmed by the educational psychologist at half-term. And that’s why I couldn’t go to your tennis, because of all the work I had to do. But I didn’t blame you for being mad about that – you couldn’t have known I was just trying to get better so it wouldn’t be quite so embarrassing. Oh yes, and I also couldn’t come because I knew it would take me ages on the internet trying to find out if it was true that Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci were dyslexic too, because that’s what Miss Cardwell said, but I thought she was probably just being kind, and it did take ages because I couldn’t even spell their stupid names…”
Suddenly I was exhausted and I just burst into more tears and buried my head in my hands.
“Oh, Jess, please don’t cry!” said Grace. “I wasn’t cross because you weren’t coming to support me at the tournament, I was cross because I knew you were going to Learning Support. I mean, at first I knew there was something wrong because you weren’t the same you. You were always in daydreams, but it wasn’t like your usual daydreams, when you’re picturing things. These were different daydreams, and at times I just felt as though I’d lost you. There was something about the way you always looked down when you said you were going to work on your art, and I could tell you weren’t telling the truth, so I followed you one day and I saw where you went…”
I gasped when Grace said that, and it was as though my face didn’t know whether to turn white or red. “I didn’t know you knew…”
“But I wanted you to tell me yourself. I was so upset because you weren’t confiding in me, and I thought I must be a rubbish best friend if you couldn’t even tell me you had to have learning support and then you wouldn’t let me help you in prep.”
“But it’s worse than learning support, it’s dyslexia!” I said, through sobs.
Now it was Grace’s turn to look straight at me. She even raised her voice. “But I’ve told you, it doesn’t matter! It doesn’t change what you’ve always been, it’s just got a title now. It’s nothing to do with how intelligent you are or anything like that. Surely Miss Cardwell explained that? I know all about it, Jess, because, the thing is, my big sister, Sunisa, is dyslexic too.”
I gasped again. A bigger gasp than before. “Oh!” There was a silence. I couldn’t find the words to show how relieved I was.
“It’s not made you stop liking your sister, has it?” I finally mumbled.
And that’s when Grace burst into tears and I had to put my arm round her. “Oh I’m sorry, Grace. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just so ashamed of myself for being so bad at easy things like reading and writing.”
Grace stopped crying and looked at me through her tears. “Jess, how can I get it through to you that it’s not bad. You mustn’t keep thinking of it as a bad thing. My sister says that some people don’t get it at first, but they always do in the end. Like this girl who used to mock her in class, and was always saying snidey things about her under her breath… Well, one day, the teacher told this girl to remove her glasses, because she wore glasses for reading, and the girl did as she was told, and the teacher asked her to read something from her book, and the girl said, ‘I can’t see the words without my glasses,’ and the teacher said, ‘Well, now you know what it’s like for Sunisa. Your brain can’t read the words without help, and neither can Sunisa’s.’ And from that day on, the girl stopped her taunting. She just hadn’t realized till then that actually she was in the same boat as Sunisa. And now they’re at uni and they’re the best of friends.”
I’d completely stopped crying during Grace’s story and so had she. The two of us looked at each other, with our tear-stained faces and red eyes, and I don’t know which one of us saw the funny side of it first, but the next minute we were laughing our heads off, until we got into that hysterical state you get into when you just can’t stop.
Grace was the first to recover. “Can I see your art piece now, Jess?” she asked.
I only hesitated for a second. Then I went behind the hedge and pulled out my metal figures and stood them up against the trees.
“Oh wow! They look amazing, Jess! Totally amazing!”
“Really?” I was pleased and surprised, because to me they looked incomplete, as where the teardrops should have been there were just rings of wire with nothing inside.
“Don’t you think they look like…there’s something missing, Grace?”
She shook her head slowly with a frown on her face. “No, I think they’re perfect.”
We talked so much, Grace and I, that afternoon, making plans about how much she would help me – in fact how all my friends would help me, and about what we’d actually say to them to explain why I’d run off.
“I think you’ve just got to tell the truth, Jess. These are your friends we’re talking about. Of course they’ll understand.”
I nodded. Grace had definitely made me feel stronger. She’d helped lift my confidence, and I would tell the truth because she was right, the truth was the only way.
Except for one little truth.
Grace still didn’t know that, as well as being dyslexic, her best friend was also a thief.
Chapter Nine
Later that afternoon, when the others were back from shopping, Grace called a friendship meeting. We all sat round in our dorm on the circular mat and talked and talked. It was a bit embarrassing at first because everyone looked so serious and anxious. Even Georgie was throwing wide-eyed worried looks all over the place. The weird thing was that when I told them all that it was pretty much definite that I’d got dyslexia and I’d been keeping it a secret because I was ashamed of it, there was a pause before anyone spoke and I could see puzzled looks appearing on all their faces. Naomi was the first to say anything.
“But why were you ashamed? Surely you were pleased, because it explains everything. It’s totally the reason why you find it hard to read and write.”
Then the others all started agreeing and saying there was nothing wrong with being dyslexic, it was no different from being left-handed. I began to think I must have been totally crazy to have ever worried about what my friends would say when they found out. They’d made it all sound so simple and obvious. If only I’d told them ages before.
It felt like the end of the meeting and we were all just about to get up when there was a tap on the door and in came Miss Fosbrook. “We’ve just been talking about my dyslexia,” I told her quietly.
“And we thin
k it’s no big deal!” added Georgie firmly, as Grace held my hand for a moment.
Miss Fosbrook squashed herself into our circle and gave me a big hug. She’s only in her early twenties and she’s really popular at Hazeldean because she almost seems like one of us students.
“Listen, Jess,” she said, patting my knee, “I was talking to Miss Cardwell on the shopping trip, and I’m sure you don’t need me to say anything when you’ve got all these brilliant friends, but I just wanted you to know that everyone’s rooting for you, and you’re not the only one in this school with dyslexia. Miss Cardwell’s going to arrange to get you hooked up with a couple of older girls who you can chat to. Then you’ll feel better.” She flashed me a big beam as she stood up and reached into her jeans pocket. “That reminds me, Miss Cardwell asked me to give you this.”
It was a card with a picture of a little ant with a rucksack on its back, looking anxiously up at a hill it was about to climb. Inside, Miss Cardwell had written, “You, of all people, can climb this hill, Jess! It’s not half as bad as it seems. Looking forward to seeing you on Monday.”
I put the card on the pinboard above my bed. I thought it would be good to look at if ever I’m feeling depressed. It’ll remind me of this day and how all my worries fell away.
Well nearly all.
It was two days later in assembly when Ms. Carmichael, the Head of the whole school, said she had an important announcement to make.
“You are all aware that there is a great deal of new building and restoration work going on in the school, girls, which is all very exciting. There is, however, a small hitch which has come to our notice, and this is where I need your help.”
My knees trembled and I dreaded what I was certain was coming.
“We took the chandelier down from the old library building, as it needed cleaning and a considerable amount of restoration, and it’s been stored in an empty room in the basement of Hazeldean boarding house…”
The whole assembly hall was still and silent, hanging on Ms. Carmichael’s every word. It felt like such a big build-up, as though she was telling a story and everyone was dying to know what happens in the end. I could feel the tension all around me, and the more she went on, the more I wondered how I was going to be able to hide my guilt. It was probably written all over my face already.
“Now, the hundreds of little glass pieces that make up the chandelier are very precious and individual, so when it was taken down, the men were careful to check that there weren’t any pieces missing…” Ms. Carmichael paused as her eyes flew round the hall. “And there weren’t…” Another pause while my stomach turned over. “And yet the restorers have phoned to say that there are eight pieces of glass missing. So if anyone has found them, or happens to see them, please come to either myself or your housemistress. Obviously the sooner we get the pieces back, the sooner we can have our precious chandelier hanging up in reception. So let’s all keep our eyes peeled.”
She finished with one of those smiles that isn’t really a smile because there’s too much sadness in it, and then we all filed out and I felt my head bursting with terrible guilty thoughts and questions.
Why hadn’t Ms. Carmichael come straight to me? She must have talked to Tony about the chandelier and the missing pieces because he would have been in charge of moving it to the room at Hazeldean. So why didn’t Tony tell her that one of the girls had been in the room? I know I only said I wanted to take a photo of it, but surely he would have reported that to Ms. Carmichael. After all, I even asked him how many pieces there were.
All through that day I worried about what to do. I knew what I ought to do. I ought to hand the seven pieces in, admit that I’d made a terrible mistake and apologize like mad that I’d lost the last piece. But what would happen to me? Could you get expelled for something like that?
By the time it came to my lunchtime session with Miss Cardwell I was in a terrible state. My friends could tell that there was something wrong, but they all thought I was getting myself worked up about having to face Miss Cardwell after acting so dramatically and bursting into tears and everything the last time I’d seen her.
Half of me wanted to spill my troubles out to Grace, but now I was stuck worrying about what she’d think of me, all over again. My dyslexia might not be my fault, but taking bits of school property and losing one of them definitely was, and I just couldn’t face having to make any more embarrassing admissions to Grace.
By the end of school I was a wreck and I went to the secret garden to work on my figures in the hope that it might make me feel better. But it didn’t. In fact it made me feel worse.
They were almost complete now. Mr. Cary had watched me stippling acrylic paint onto the bubble wrap for a suit for the figure of the woman, even though I hadn’t told him what it was for.
“I’m intrigued, Jess. It’s such an original material to be using. I can’t wait to see your finished artwork.”
He’d given me a piece of card to write about my installation on and I’d waited for him to say something like, “Don’t worry about spellings”, because I was so used to all the teachers talking to me like that. But all he’d said was, “Name, title of piece and brief explanation, okay?”
I smiled to myself now as I stood back to see the effect of my four figures propped up against a tree. I liked the way they were facing north, south, east and west. It somehow symbolized the different way each of them looked at the world. But then when I’d been standing there perfectly still for a while, just staring, I started to feel as lifeless and pointless as the metal figures in front of me. I sighed a massive sigh and put my head in my hands, then abruptly opened my eyes and felt furious with myself for not even managing to finish them off properly. And the more I looked, the more my temper rose. They were useless without the eyes. Useless. And suddenly I couldn’t bear the sight of them for another second.
I grabbed the woman and the girl and started to walk off towards the rubbish dump, but I’d hardly taken two steps when I practically bumped into Grace.
“Jess! What’s the matter? What are you doing?”
I felt trapped. I gulped and spoke in a whisper, feeling my shoulders hunching up like a little girl’s. “I can’t tell you. I mean, this time I really can’t. I’ve done something unforgivable.”
“Oh, Jess, not this again. If I’m your best friend you’ve got to tell me. If I’m not, then…you needn’t bother.”
“You’ll hate me.”
“If it turns out that I hate you, I’ll give you every single last coin of the money that Mum and Dad have put in savings for me.” She stuck out her hand. “Shake on it.”
So we did, and I told her. Just like that. All in one long garbled sentence.
“It was me who took the pieces of chandelier for my art project, only I lost one of them and I still can’t find it, but I didn’t realize it was precious and going to be repaired, I thought it was going to be chucked out and I didn’t think it mattered, and I couldn’t read what it said on the door because of my useless brain and now everything’s useless and I’m not entering the art exhibition and I’ll probably get expelled and I bet you hate me.”
I’d delivered my whole speech staring at the ground and I still didn’t dare look up at Grace.
“Oh, Jess, you made a mistake, that’s all. You’ve simply got to hand the pieces in and explain that you couldn’t read the notice and that will be that!”
I looked up then. I couldn’t believe that Grace was taking it all so calmly. Anyone’d think I’d just told her I’d borrowed her hairdryer or something and put it back in the wrong place. She didn’t look shocked at all. But she’d forgotten one small detail.
“There are only seven pieces, remember,” I said in scarcely more than a whisper.
“So we find the eighth one.” Then she suddenly frowned at what I was carrying. “Where were you going with your art, Jess?”
“To the rubbish dump. Can you get the other two figures for me? I can’t carry them all.�
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“Oh, Jess, please don’t do this to yourself.”
But I just started striding off again because I was determined to finally get rid of the useless old metal and bubble wrap. I didn’t know why I’d ever thought it was anything special. “I’m doing myself a favour,” I called back over my shoulder.
Grace hurried after me with the other two figures, and it was a relief to chuck them all away. But a few minutes later we were back at the secret garden, because Grace said she wanted to go all over the area where I’d been working with a fine-tooth comb.
“I’m sure that missing piece must be here somewhere.” Those were the only words she’d said for a while. I think she was more upset than I was about me throwing my art away, although I had felt a stab of sadness when I’d looked back and seen the four figures lying there on the dump, staring up at the sky with their sightless eyes.
Grace crouched down and peered at the earth. Then she looked up quickly to tell me to go back and double-check in the dorm. I suddenly felt drained and was really glad that she was taking charge, but there was one thing I had to be sure of.
“Do you think I might get expelled?”
She jumped to her feet like a jack-in-the-box. “Course you won’t! Don’t be silly, Jess! Honestly! Oh and keep your eyes on the ground on the way back to Hazeldean. We’ve got to be thorough.”
There was no one in the dorm, thank goodness, because no way was I going to tell any of the others about my stupidity. This would stay between Grace and me, unless it turned out that I did get expelled – then everyone would find out anyway.
I ran my fingers over every bit of floor under my bed, and under everyone else’s just for good measure. Then I looked in all my drawers, even though I knew there was no way the glass piece could have got in there, and finally I walked very slowly back to the secret garden, head down, scouring the ground all the way.
“Any luck?” asked Grace in a small voice when I reappeared.
I shook my head. There was no point in asking her the same question. It was obvious she hadn’t found anything. But then, very slowly, she held out her tightly closed hand and uncurled her fingers one at a time. When I saw the crystal winking up at me, I screeched “Yesssss!” at the top of my voice, and Grace hugged me tight.