by Candy Harper
Then I saw a poster for Year Seven Hockey Club, which said ‘everyone welcome’. When they write that, it means that you can come even if you’re rubbish because they don’t have enough people to be fussy about it. They’d even underlined the ‘everyone’, that’s how not fussy they were.
‘That sounds good,’ Kayleigh said.
‘Ash will be good at that,’ I said. ‘She’s a fast runner.’
‘You’re going to ask Ashandra too?’
‘I think she’ll like hockey, don’t you?’
Kayleigh’s face looked like she didn’t care at all whether Ashandra would be good at hockey, which was disappointing, but she managed to say, ‘I suppose.’
But, when we got to registration and I asked her, Ashandra didn’t seem sure either.
‘I already go to karate and choir; even someone as brilliant as me needs to sleep now and again.’
She was joking, but Kayleigh pulled a face.
‘And I need to make sure I’ve got enough time to do homework.’
‘It’s at lunchtime; it won’t interfere with your homework,’ I promised.
‘What about when there are matches?’
Kayleigh pursed her lips. ‘What makes you think you’d get on the team?’
‘I normally get into teams.’
Ash was only telling the truth, but I supposed that if you don’t know someone well enough to know that they’ve been on lots of teams then you might think they’re being a big-headed boaster. And that might make you mouth ‘show off’.
‘Please join,’ I said quickly before Kayleigh could say anything out loud. ‘Just try it for a few weeks.’
Ashandra let out her breath. ‘Oh, all right.’
‘Brilliant, I’ll put our names down at breaktime.’
They didn’t look very brilliantish about it, but once we started playing together I knew it would help them get on.
When Miss Espinoza arrived, I went to my own desk. The tight plait girl, who I now knew was called Alenka, looked up when I sat next to her and then down again.
‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Did you have a nice weekend?’
She thought about it. ‘Some of it was nice. My sister, she took me out for a milkshake.’
‘Wow. My big sister would never do that. I mean, if she took me, she would have to take my other sisters and Chloe can drink a lot of milkshake. It would cost loads.’
‘My sister is in Year Nine. She’s really nice. When I have a bad day, she always takes me for a milkshake.’
She didn’t say why she’d needed cheering up.
‘Me and Ash and Kayleigh are going to do hockey on Thursday lunchtimes. Do you want to come too?’
I thought she was going to say no. I think she thought she was going to say no too because when she said, ‘OK,’ she seemed as surprised as I was.
We had chips from the chip shop for tea. I love chips, but the smell of them always makes me a bit worried. When it’s beans on toast for tea, that means Mum has had a bad day and is very tired, but chips mean a terrible day. So terrible that Mum doesn’t even have the energy to open a tin of beans.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked her. I was clearing up the chip papers, Lucy was pretending to help and Mum was surrounded by her class’s writing journals.
‘I’m fine, Ella. I’ve just got a lot of marking to do.’
‘Again?’ Lucy asked. ‘You did marking last week.’
Actually, Mum didn’t do very much marking last week because she spent so much time on Lucy’s Harvest Festival costume and making sure she knew her lines.
Mum looked down at the journals. ‘I’m afraid there’s marking every week. It just keeps coming! Every day the little horrors produce more writing. Even the really fidgety ones squeeze out a few lines that I’m supposed to read and comment on. The head expects me to have written something on every single piece of writing.’
‘So why haven’t you?’ Lucy asked.
‘Because there are thirty children in my class and they do a piece of writing every single day. Even if I only spend five minutes marking each piece that’s still two and a half hours of marking.’
Lucy put her head on one side. ‘You could do that. You could do it when I’m in bed and I don’t need you.’
When Lucy is in bed, Mum does the washing and makes packed lunches and helps me and Chloe with our homework and listens to Amelia talking about how unreasonable her science teacher is.
Mum sighed. ‘There just don’t seem to be enough hours in the day.’
‘Maybe you should sleep less,’ Lucy said. I don’t think she’s noticed the dark circles under Mum’s eyes.
‘You could stop ironing,’ I said. ‘Chloe just crumples everything anyway.’
Mum smiled that smile that grown-ups do when they think you’re sweet, but you don’t understand enough to do anything really useful.
I really wanted to understand. I really wanted to do something useful. After all, if I was trying to be nice to everyone then my mum deserved it most of all.
‘I could make beans on toast tomorrow,’ I said.
‘Thank you, Ella. I would appreciate that. And I think I’ll need you girls to help a little around the house generally this term.’
Lucy threw a scrunched-up ball of chip paper at the bin and missed. ‘We already do the washing-up and the hoovering. If we do anything else, you’ll have to pay us.’
Mum laughed. ‘All right, you do some cooking and cleaning and I’ll pay you with food and shelter and the endless love of a mother. How does that sound?’
‘Sounds like you can’t buy sweets with it like you do with real money,’ she said and stomped off to the Pit again.
I finished tidying up and, when I looked at Mum, she was still frowning at her books.
‘Don’t worry too much,’ I said. ‘I don’t think everybody reads all the corrections that teachers put. If they did, Lucy would be able to spell “assassinate” properly by now.’
Mum pushed her hair out of her eyes. ‘But I have to set targets. The trouble is, lots of them need to work on the same area so I’m writing the same thing over and over.’
‘Maybe I could write some for you?’
‘I don’t think that’s allowed.’
I had an idea. ‘I could make you some stickers!’
So I got on the computer and typed out Mum’s most used comments. First, I did smiley faces that tell you what you’re doing right (Sparkling vocabulary! Excellent use of capital letters! Nice connectives!). And then I typed out what you need to improve to get to the next level. (Use full stops! Check your spelling! How about some wow words?). I printed them on address labels and Mum just stuck the appropriate ones in the books. Even then, she couldn’t resist adding a personal comment occasionally, but it made things much quicker.
‘Thank you, Ella,’ Mum said. ‘You’ve been extremely helpful.’
I was really glad I could help Mum feel less stressed. I just wished I could sort out Ashandra and Kayleigh as easily.
Wednesday night at Dad’s wasn’t fun. Dad told Lucy to stop sticking her head in Kirsti’s basket. Lucy shouted at Dad and then had a go at Suvi too. For once, even Suvi looked like she was about to lose her temper; she took Kirsti upstairs for her bath, even though it wasn’t time. Somehow, Amelia managed to join in by shouting at Dad and Chloe, and then at me when I asked her if she was all right.
In the morning, after Dad woke us up, Amelia went back to sleep. When I’d finished breakfast, she was only just staggering downstairs, even though we needed to leave really soon.
‘Why didn’t you wake me again?’ she asked Suvi.
‘You knew it was school today, yes?’ Suvi asked.
‘Of course I knew it was school! I’m not an imbecile.’
‘Then you know you have to get up.’
Amelia picked up her bag and walked straight out of the door, slamming it behind her.
‘She didn’t have any cereal! Not even as a Magic Breakfast!’ Chloe said to me.
; That wasn’t really the bit that shocked me most. I dragged Chloe into the upstairs bathroom and locked the door behind us. It’s the only place at Dad’s house that you can have a private conversation.
‘Is this about panda-eyes, pig-face Amelia?’ Chloe asked.
I shook my head. I didn’t see what we could possibly do about Amelia and her stomping.
‘Did you see what Lucy was doing at the table?’ I asked Chloe.
‘No. I was checking how much Weetabix I can store in my cheeks.’
I stared at her.
‘You know, like a hamster? I got a whole one in, but that wouldn’t last you, would it? Mine’s nearly all gone already.’ She opened her mouth to show me some Weetabixy slop that was still between her teeth and her cheek.
‘It looks like your teeth are rotting.’
Chloe looked in the mirror and bared her teeth. There were brown speckles all over them. ‘Cool.’ She grinned at me. ‘What did Lucy do at breakfast?’
‘She glared.’
‘What at?’
‘Kirsti. The whole time. I don’t think she likes her.’
‘Does Lucy like anyone?’
‘Yes!’
People think that, because Lucy is always stamping her feet and telling everyone how big their bottom is, she doesn’t like anyone, but actually she cares about people a lot. She just does it in quite a fierce way.
‘Lucy loves us. Remember that time she fell out of a tree because she was trying to get your ball back? And, even though she says Amelia smells, when Kayleigh said Amelia was moody, Lucy kicked her in the shins.’
‘So how can you tell whether she likes Kirsti or not?’
‘With all of us, she either says rude things or she squishes us in killer hugs, but with Kirsti she just keeps staring at her like she’s thinking.’
When Lucy is thinking, it usually means trouble.
I rubbed my hand over my face. ‘What if she wants to get rid of her?’
Chloe dabbed at her teeth with Dad’s toothbrush. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Remember that time she tried to sell Buttercup to the postman?’
‘Buttercup isn’t a baby.’
‘No, but we never had a baby before. I don’t know what she’ll try and do.’
Chloe looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded. ‘We’d better keep an eye on her.’
Downstairs, Dad was calmly drinking a cup of coffee and Suvi was breastfeeding Kirsti. It was much quieter at Dad’s house than mornings at home. Lucy was drinking a glass of milk and looking at Dad and Suvi’s bookshelf. It’s probably the most colourful thing in the room, even though the book spines have got very boring titles about sustainability and environmental impact and management in education.
‘There’s nothing to read here!’ Lucy announced.
Suvi detached Kirsti from her chest and put her down on her mat. ‘All these books and papers are a bit grown up for you,’ she said to Lucy. ‘Maybe you can bring a picture book from home.’
‘I’m too old for picture books! I know how to read,’ Lucy said and she picked up a newspaper from the table and sat down next to Kirsti. She opened out the newspaper, blocking everyone’s view of the baby.
I looked at Chloe.
‘She can’t do anything to her now,’ Chloe whispered. ‘There are too many people in the room.’
But I remembered the time Lucy managed to eat a whole Easter egg without anyone noticing, even though we were all playing Monopoly together.
It was my Easter egg.
I kept my eye on her.
She was muttering to herself, but I couldn’t tell if she was reading the paper or being mean to the baby. I guessed Kirsti wouldn’t understand anyway.
‘We’d better get going.’ Dad drained his coffee. ‘What’s going on in world affairs?’ he asked Lucy.
Lucy lowered the paper. ‘Somebody shot somebody.’
‘Oh.’
‘They should put more shooting in children’s books. Children would get better at reading more quicker if they could read about the blood.’
Dad reached out and took away the paper. ‘Time for school.’
Lucy scowled. ‘I’ll be back,’ she said in a low growl to Kirsti.
‘See?’ I whispered to Chloe. ‘That didn’t look very friendly, did it?’
‘She always screws up her face like that. She had the exact same face when we brought in her birthday cake last year.’
We got our things and headed off for school. I called for Ashandra and she told me a funny story about her brother’s friend skateboarding down the corridor and straight into Mr O’Brien, but all I could think about was why couldn’t Lucy get on with Kirsti? Why couldn’t Chloe not call Amelia names? Why couldn’t Amelia not hate so many people? And why couldn’t Mum and Dad stand to be in the same room as each other?
I wished everyone would just get on with everyone else.
Art is not my favourite subject. Kayleigh says that if you’re going to be creative then it’s good to have loads of art materials spread all around you, but I don’t like how messy the art room always is. My worst thing is when Miss Gardner says, ‘Free choice today. Go mad, use your imagination!’ because I never know what to do. I prefer it when she says, ‘Sketch a pencil portrait of your partner.’ Even then I like to ask her how big it should be and whether we’re allowed to do rubbing out.
So I was quite happy when Miss Gardner announced that we were going to be in an art competition. Competitions have rules.
‘As you know, we’ve got International Day coming up next month,’ she said. ‘Each of the Year Seven and Year Eight tutor groups will be given one of these . . .’ She pointed to a large canvas panel on a frame. ‘You’ll be assigned a country and your job is to represent that country on your panel. They’ll be displayed on International Day so your parents will have the opportunity to see them and the best one will win a prize.’
That all seemed clear, but then she said, ‘This is a class project so I want you to do everything yourselves.’
I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to get a panel done if she left us to it. I didn’t know if our class could organise themselves.
‘But who will be in charge?’ I asked.
‘I think perhaps it would best if we choose a couple of people to coordinate, just so that everybody knows what they’re doing. Who thinks they could do a good job of managing things?’
Jasmine put her hand up before Miss Gardner had even finished the question. I’m not sure it’s very smart for teachers to ask questions like that because often the people who think they’re good at managing are the people who just like bossing everyone about. Eight other people put up their hands, including Ashandra and Kayleigh. I didn’t.
Miss Gardner looked the volunteers over. ‘I think we’ll have Ashandra and Kayleigh,’ she said.
Jasmine sucked in her breath and pinched up her face.
Nobody else was surprised. We’d been at school for less than three weeks, but everybody knew that Ashandra is the smart, confident girl that teachers always pick for stuff. And we’d all sighed with envy looking at Kayleigh’s paintings and drawings so it was obvious she was a good choice for an art project.
Jasmine pays more attention to what she wants than what’s obvious so she kept on scowling.
Miss Gardner let Alenka pull a slip of paper out of a bag. We got China. Miss Gardner said that today was for finishing off our jungle scenes, but next lesson Ashandra and Kayleigh would take over and we’d get to work on bringing the spirit of China to our panel.
I was so excited thinking about Ashandra and Kayleigh working together that I almost forgot that it was our first Hockey Club at lunchtime. Luckily, everybody else remembered. I was pleased that I had asked Alenka, mostly because she was really keen, but also because she seemed a tiny bit nervous like me. Ashandra and Kayleigh, on the other hand, were acting completely normal and didn’t seem to be worrying about a hockey stick slipping out of their sweaty hands at all. We got change
d and headed out on to the field.
The thing that I’ve discovered about sport is that it’s not just how good you are that matters; it’s how good people expect you to be. Chloe’s got powerful legs and a sturdy body: people expect her to be good at sport and she is. But Lucy, who’s tiny with copper curls, looks like the kind of china doll that you’re afraid to pick up in case you break it so no one expects her to be an athlete. On sports day, everyone smiles when she lines up for a race. She never actually wins, but she looks so little, and like she’s trying so hard, that she always gets a cheer when she crosses the finishing line.
My issue is my height. If you’re tall, people expect two things from you: being mature and being good at sport. I’m actually not that bad at PE. I can run fast-ish and I can catch and throw reasonably well. You have to be able to catch in our house because people are always throwing things and if you don’t react quickly enough you’ll end up with a face full of stinky socks or Lucy’s toast crusts. The problem I have with sport is not that I’m middle-ish at it: it’s that people expect me to be brilliant. And when you’re expecting something amazing anything else just looks rubbish. So, even though hockey was my idea, I was really nervous about people being disappointed in me.
Luckily, none of the thirty-two girls who turned up for Hockey Club had played any hockey before and we were all rubbish. Which was really nice. The club was run by a different teacher to the one we have for PE lessons and she didn’t say, ‘You ought to be good at this,’ or ‘Use those long legs,’ or any of the stuff I usually get shouted at me.
The only downside was that Jasmine and her friends, Asia and Courtney, were there. Every time Mrs Henderson got us to line up, I stood as far away from them as possible.
First, we learnt how to hold the stick and then we practised getting the ball to stop, which was more difficult than you’d think. When we got to dribbling the ball round cones, it was complete chaos: there were balls everywhere.
‘Watch it! That’s mine!’ Jasmine snapped when I went after what I thought was my ball. ‘Why are you even here?’ she asked. ‘You’ll just get your long legs tied in a knot.’