by Liz Kessler
Daisy was pulling furiously at the blanket now. I felt as if I had a big air pump inside me, blowing me up till I was big and tight inside. “Thank you,” I managed to say eventually.
Daisy shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“Thank me? What for?”
She shrugged. “Everything. But mostly for last night.”
“Last night? You’re thanking me for yelling at you?”
Daisy laughed. “Yeah, I guess I am. You helped me see things differently.”
“Well, I’ll never do that again,” I said. “I don’t want to be like that.”
“Hey, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You weren’t that bad, you know. You stood up for yourself. There’s nothing wrong with doing that sometimes.”
I took her words in. I’d stood up for myself. I’d always been so afraid of doing that, of doing anything that made me the center of attention. So worried that the world would collapse around me if I did — that people would hate me, I’d lose them, and everything would go wrong. Well, things had been going wrong enough lately, without me standing up for myself, and it hadn’t made things any worse. Maybe the world didn’t end when you stood up for yourself.
Still, I didn’t want to do it again. There was really no need to be like that.
“You haven’t missed much at school today,” I said, sensing it was time to change the subject.
Daisy looked relieved. “Didn’t think so,” she said, pulling her sweater off and settling down on the blanket. I couldn’t help staring at her back, how her shoulders stuck out strangely without her sweater on. I knew it was just her wings, but it looked really weird.
Daisy saw me looking.
“I’m sorry about the girls the other day,” I said clumsily. “They’ll laugh at anyone. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Daisy waved her hand. “Hey, I’m over it,” she said. The catch in her voice told me that she wasn’t over it at all. The sudden forced smile told me not to push it.
As she took her books out of her bag, a piece of paper fell out. She opened it.
“Oh, that’s the letter we got the other day,” I said. “Just ignore it; it’s only about a silly talent show next week.”
Daisy read the letter. “Hey, you should enter this,” she said.
“Yeah, right.” I laughed. “Doing what?”
Daisy pointed to my hands. “That thing you were doing when I came in.”
“The tricks?”
“It looked fantastic!” she said. “Do you know any others?”
“Yeah, loads, but —”
“You could do them!”
“What, like a magic show?” For a second, I imagined myself onstage, doing my magic, completely lost in the world that it takes me into, hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at me, amazed by my tricks. Hundreds of mouths open in silent awe. Then I thought again. Hundreds of people sitting out there, watching the stage. Me on it. Completely on my own. Standing there in front of the entire school.
My mouth felt as though it had a desert inside it. “No way,” I said. “I’d never do that.”
“Why not?”
“I just couldn’t stand up in front of the whole school like that. I’d die.”
Daisy laughed. “You wouldn’t die! Come on, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”
I knew very well what the worst thing was that could happen. It had already happened, and I was never, ever going to let it happen again.
“What is it, Philippa?” Daisy asked more softly.
I shook my head. I didn’t trust myself to speak.
“Hey, there is something, isn’t there?” Daisy said.
“I’ve never told anyone,” I said eventually.
“Never told anyone what?”
“Why I can’t do it.”
“Tell me. I’ll help you.”
I looked up at her. Her eyes were so gentle and sincere. Looking into them, I knew right then that I could trust her. I’d never even told Charlotte. A pang of guilt flashed through me as I realized that I’d hardly thought about Charlotte all day. I shook it off. “Do you promise you won’t laugh at me?” I asked.
“Of course I won’t laugh.”
“And you won’t tell anyone?”
“Never.”
I took a deep breath. “OK, then,” I said. And then I told her what had happened.
“It was years ago,” I started. “I used to go along to the parties with Mom and Dad. They always encouraged me to sing for the kids. It was this boy’s ninth birthday party. I was six. Mom and Dad always wanted to show me off. They’d tell me I was brilliant at everything; they said I could sing, said I had the voice of an angel. And I was stupid enough to believe them.”
I looked up to see Daisy’s eyes intent on mine. “Go on,” she encouraged me.
“So they got me to sing. Up in the front in my white frilly dress with a pink satin sash. I got about half a verse into the song, and then I heard them all giggling. Just the boys in the back row at first, and I tried to ignore them. I sang a bit louder. Then it spread to the next row, and then the one in front of that, too. Then the whole room was breaking up into hysterical laughter. I glanced over at Mom and Dad, petrified, but they just smiled back at me, waving for me to carry on.”
“So what happened?” Daisy asked.
“Somehow I made it to the end of the second verse. Then I felt something running down my leg. Hot liquid. I couldn’t believe it! Right there, right in front of a room full of people laughing at me because I sang like an injured cat, just when things couldn’t have been much worse — I’d wet myself!”
I glanced at Daisy to check that she wasn’t laughing at me. She wasn’t. Cheeks burning, I carried on.
“I pretended I couldn’t remember the last verse and quickly whizzed through the chorus again, then I took a quick bow and scampered off the stage. I didn’t look back. My leg was wet, and I ran straight to the bathroom. I never found out if it had reached the floor or if anyone knew what had happened. I was never, ever going to ask.”
“Did you have to do it again?”
I nodded. “The next week, Mom and Dad said I should sing again. I’d rather have died, but I couldn’t tell them why. So I did. Tried to, anyway. It was a girl’s seventh birthday party. I stood up there in front of her and her friends.”
“What did you do?”
“I just turned to stone. I couldn’t sing, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. I literally stood there like a statue for about five minutes. Eventually, Mom ran over and grabbed my hand. ‘She’s a bit shy sometimes,’ she said, and pulled me away while the girls started playing a game. They never tried to make me sing after that. And I’ve never, ever stood up in front of a group of people since then.”
Daisy stared at me in silence. My cheeks were burning up. I shouldn’t have told her. She must think I am the biggest baby ever. Why did I tell her?
“You poor thing,” she said, putting her hand on my arm. “That sounds awful.”
She wasn’t laughing.
“But do you know what?” she said.
“What?”
“We’re going to fix it.” Then she rummaged in her bag again and took out her MagiCell. “Hang on a minute.” She punched a few numbers and studied the screen for a few seconds. “Yes! I thought so!” she said.
“What?”
“Look at that,” she said, smiling as she held the MagiCell out to me. In glowing numbers, the screen showed a list of dates and times. The first one was tonight, followed by a few more. Daisy scrolled through them, pointing to the fourth date in the list.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s next Tuesday. The night before the talent show.”
“What’s the list?”
Daisy put the MagiCell down. “The list shows the times of all the shooting stars — and there’s one on Tuesday night. Don’t you see?”
“See what?” I asked. Clearly I didn’t see, whatever it was I was meant to be seeing.
&n
bsp; “You could make a wish the night before the show.”
“How would that help?”
“It’s your chance to leave it all behind you. You could wish to have all the confidence in the world. You could wish to banish fear. You could wish to forget about what happened to you back then and know that it will never ever happen again.”
I thought about what she said. It was tempting. “I don’t know,” I said. “I mean, what if it doesn’t work?”
“It always works!”
“What if I get all the confidence, but I’m no good anyway? It wouldn’t matter how confident I was if my show was terrible! They’d still laugh at me.”
“OK, that’s it.” Daisy got up and went over to the other side of the tree house.
“Wait, don’t go!”
“I’m not going, you silly sun ray.” She sat down on the floor across the tree house from me and folded her arms.
“What are you doing, then?”
“I’m your audience,” she said with a smile. “Show me what you can do.”
“Really?” I asked shyly.
“Really!”
I wanted to. I told myself I’d only be doing it in front of one person, which I’d done loads of times before. And I really had missed showing Charlotte my tricks and seeing her face when I’d impressed her with a new one.
“OK,” I said. “Just give me a minute.”
I gathered up a few bits and pieces from the floor that I needed, stacking them on the window ledge behind me. The coins, a couple of newspapers, an orange, a pen, and paper.
“Ready?” I asked nervously.
“Absolutely.” Daisy smiled.
I picked up the coins. “OK,” I said, my voice still trembling a little. “I’ll start with these. Which hand is the coin in?”
By the time I’d finished my show, Daisy was clapping so loudly that I thought Mom would hear us and come to see what was going on.
“Philippa, that was amazing!” she said. “That was better magic than I’ve seen some fairy godmothers do!”
“Really?” I asked, my cheeks on fire.
“You bet!” She stood up and brushed herself off. “You’re entering the talent show.”
“Oh, but —”
“No buts. There’s nothing to worry about. The show is incredible. You’ll blow them away. All you have to worry about is the confidence thing. And you can wish for that the night before.”
“You’re definitely sure about the shooting star on Tuesday?” I asked.
“Positive. MagiCell information is the most precise in the whole sky. It’s never been wrong yet.”
I drew in a breath, held it for a moment, and then slowly let it out. “OK,” I said. My hands shook as much as my voice, but I’d decided. “I’ll sign up this afternoon — on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You come back in to school with me.”
Daisy grinned as she reached for her bag. “What are we waiting for?”
Philippa added her name to the talent-show sign-up sheet as we passed the bulletin board.
“Come on, we’ve still got fifteen minutes of lunch left,” she said. “Let’s join the others.”
As we sat down in the cafeteria, I happened to glance over at Trisha. She was nudging her friend and whispering something.
Ignore them, ignore them. They don’t matter.
I don’t know why Trisha suddenly bothered me so much, but she did. Just the way she looked at you made you feel like you weren’t good enough — for what, I don’t know. Just not good enough to be in her gang, I guess. Which was what everyone wanted to be. I mean, I was really glad Philippa and I had made up. Things felt so much better now. But still — I didn’t really want Trisha to know how friendly Philippa and I were now. I wasn’t prepared to be next on her hit list.
So I shifted my chair again and got my books out without saying anything else to Philippa. It wasn’t as though I was doing anything mean. I wasn’t ignoring her or anything. I just didn’t see the need to advertise our newfound friendship to the world.
At lunchtime, we sat with Lauren and Beth. The list had gone up with the talent show entries, and they’d seen Philippa’s name on it.
“What are you going to do?” Lauren asked.
Philippa glanced nervously at me.
“It’s a surprise,” I said with a wink. “But it’s fantastic!”
Philippa shot me a grateful smile.
Lauren and Beth tried to guess what it could be. They kept coming up with more and more outrageous suggestions.
“Lion taming!” Beth said.
“Tightrope walking!” Lauren countered. Philippa and I just laughed. I realized that I hadn’t done much laughing since I’d started the assignment. It felt good. Beth started joking about how much water I drank. I couldn’t exactly explain it was because I became like a wilting flower if I didn’t get enough water! Philippa made a joke out of that, too, so I didn’t have to reply. It was as though we totally understood each other, as though we could read each other’s minds and finish each other’s thoughts. I realized I hadn’t felt so relaxed and happy in a really long time. Maybe ever.
And then Trisha came in.
“Hey, it’s the freaks and geeks!” she said loudly, nudging her friend. “Mind if we join you?”
The four of us fell silent as Trisha and Jacqui shoved into us and sat down.
“Hey, Jacqui,” Trisha said loudly. “Do you think we’re talented enough to sit at this table?”
My skin turned cold. Don’t let them get to you. Don’t, don’t, don’t!
“Or is it only skinny little girls and weirdo math geeks and freaks with sticky-out shoulders who can sit here?”
The pair of them burst out laughing. And that was it. Freaks! They’d called me a freak! I couldn’t let them get away with it. Suddenly, I forgot about all the laughing we’d been doing. I forgot about how well Philippa and I had been getting along. I couldn’t see any of it through the red mist of anger that was rolling into a ball inside me.
“Ignore them,” Philippa whispered. “They do this to everyone. Just keep quiet and they’ll get bored and leave us alone soon.”
And then I did something I hate myself for.
I shifted away from Philippa. If she wanted to sit quietly and be on the receiving end of Trisha’s jokes, that was up to her. But I wasn’t going to join her there. And before I knew it, my anger-ball had gathered Philippa up, too. Why couldn’t she stand up to Trisha for once — like she did with me the other day? Why did she have to be so weak? In that moment, I was just as angry with her as I was with Trisha.
“Seems the freaks and geeks have been struck dumb,” Jacqui sneered.
“Bunch of wimps, all of them,” Trisha replied. With that, she started to get up from her seat.
I reached right across Philippa to grab Trisha’s arm, pulling her back down in her seat. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” I growled.
Philippa and the others seemed to shrink in their chairs. Even that annoyed me. They were being exactly what Trisha said — a bunch of wimps.
“You think I’m like them?” I said, my anger snatching away the loyalty I’d been so happy to feel only moments earlier. I couldn’t stop myself. I wasn’t having Trisha Miles think that she was better than me — or associate me with girls she despised.
“You think I’d hang out with them, given a choice?” I said, my brain taking a leave of absence as my fury took charge. “Think I’m not good enough to be in your gang? Well, I’ve got news for you. I’m way better than them — and you know what? I’m way better than you, too!”
Trisha looked at me for a moment. Then she looked at Jacqui and burst out laughing. “Yeah, whatever — freak!” she said. Then the pair of them got up from their seats and walked off, laughing and throwing their heads back.
Philippa looked at me in silence. Her eyes were shining and wet, her cheeks red, as though she’d just been slapped across her face. What had I done? What
had I said? I didn’t even mean it! I’d just been so angry at Trisha for thinking she was better than me. How could I have said such stupid things?
“Philippa, I’m sorry, I —”
“Forget it, Daisy,” she said coldly. Then without another word, she picked up her tray and got up. Lauren and Beth followed her.
I sat at the table on my own, staring into my bottle of water and wishing it could wash me away.
Daisy’s words spun in my head, making me dizzy. I couldn’t eat any more of my lunch. I would have been sick if I’d tried.
I’d gotten it all wrong. She was only being friendly to make her job easier. She didn’t like me at all. Only moments earlier, I’d been thinking how well we were getting along — almost like best friends. What a fool.
I emptied the contents of my plate into the garbage and headed back to class on my own.
As I walked past the talent-show list, my legs nearly gave out. I wanted to scribble my name out or tear the list down. But a tiny voice somewhere, buried under everything else inside me, was telling me that I had to do the talent show, even if I thought it would be the worst experience of my life. It was the only way I was ever going to get over the humiliation from years ago. If I could do this, I could do anything.
I had to trust that even though Daisy didn’t really like me, at least she was serious about her job. She wanted to get it done and get back to Fairyland or wherever it was that she lived, so she’d make sure I got my wish.
I was sticking to my decision. I’d do the show.
Daisy and I didn’t talk for the rest of the day. We didn’t even meet each other’s eyes. I couldn’t bear to. I glanced at her briefly once or twice and thought she looked as miserable as I felt. She was probably thinking about how much more she would have enjoyed her assignment if she’d been Trisha Miles’s fairy godsister instead. They’d have had so much fun. Well, tough! She was stuck with boring old me.
At home, I shut myself in my room for most of the evening. I just couldn’t face talking to anyone. Mom was on the phone all evening anyway, and Dad was up in his study. He said not to disturb him.