For all the girls who have ever felt
discouraged from chasing their dreams.
1
“Now, have you got everything?” Nan asked for what felt like the twentieth time that day, passing me my overnight bag on the doorstep. “Have you got your swimming costume? Toothbrush?”
“Nan!” I said, going bright red. I could see the girls looking out of Chloe’s mum’s car window. “It’s only a party. Please stop worrying.”
“I do worry,” Nan said. “You don’t know who’s around. Can’t trust anyone these days.”
“She’ll be fine,” Grandad yelled from inside the house. “They’re sensible girls. Aren’t you, Molly?”
I wish Nan wouldn’t worry so much. She always calls me her “baby”, but I wish she’d treat me more like a grown-up sometimes.
Chloe’s mum waved to us out of the car window, phone to her ear and laughing. She looks more like a babysitter than a mum. She’s the type of woman I see modelling in my nan’s weekly magazines – beautiful and glamorous, with expensive clothes and a posh car. She looked too young to be married to Chloe’s dad, who seemed more like my Grandad’s age. Even though Chloe spoke about him all the time, no one saw him much.
Nan looked disapprovingly at Chloe’s mum, but I rushed to the car as quickly as I could and put my bag in the boot.
I couldn’t wait for today. We’d been chatting about it in school all week. I love our girly sleepovers and this one was going to be epic, especially as it also happened to be Chloe’s birthday.
A lot of people wonder why Chloe and I are friends at all. Nan says we’re like chalk and cheese. Chloe is very loud and outgoing and I’m very shy. She’s incredibly pretty, with bright golden hair and I’m … well … I’m just plain old me. Nan says I’m beautiful, but it’s hard feeling beautiful when you’re compared to someone like Chloe all the time.
Chloe and I have known each other since we were babies and we’re inseparable. Neither of us have any brothers or sisters, so we basically became the siblings we never had. We’d spend every summer holiday together, having picnics in the park and playing Knock Down Ginger. We’d play princesses and dragons and try on her mum’s clothes when she wasn’t looking. We even wore friendship bracelets for years, until Chloe took hers off recently because it looked too “babyish”.
Chloe’s parties are always the best because there are never any rules. Last Halloween her parents organised a spooky murder mystery, where Barbie’s killer – who’d left her decapitated on the grass outside with tomato ketchup around her neck – had left clues around the house and garden for us to find. It led to a massive midnight feast – full of pizza, sweets, crisps and cake – that we ate and ate and ate until we felt sick. At a few of her sleepovers, we’d been allowed to watch some 15-rated films, until Neada’s parents found out and got mad at Chloe’s mum for letting us watch them. It caused a huge row and Chloe kept calling Neada a baby for weeks afterwards.
Neada is my second-best friend after Chloe. She’s a bit ditzy, but she’s always happy and smiling so it’s hard not to like her. Her parents are from India and are very protective of her, but not as much as my nan is towards me. They have huge parties, full of dancing, and I can’t help but wish I had a big family like that.
Jess came to our school last year. We’re becoming better friends over time but, like me, she’s a bit quiet so it’s been hard for us to get to know each other properly. She’s a tomboy and very sporty. She’s obsessed with football and her bedroom is covered top to bottom in Manchester United posters.
Chloe told us this birthday would be the best she’d ever had. We were going swimming first – my absolute favourite – and then off to her house in the evening for a sleepover and takeaway. We were allowed to go in the pool without any parents watching us and Chloe said there was a good chance some boys would be there.
I’ve never quite understood the appeal with boys, but Chloe’s been interested in them a lot lately. She acts differently when they’re around, like over-the-top giggling and being silly. Neada, Jess and I can’t help but laugh when she acts like that.
I have one best boy friend (NOT the romantic kind – gross) called Ed, who’s in swimming club with me, but he’s different to all the others. Ed’s funny – not annoying like most of them in my class are – and we’ve known each other since we were five. He always looks scruffy and never brushes his hair properly. Chloe says he’s annoying but I can’t help but find everything he does hilarious.
Nan was waving from the doorway as we drove off but I was too embarrassed to wave back, especially in front of Chloe. I don’t think the other girls noticed. At least, I hope they didn’t.
“Hi, Molly!” Chloe’s mum said, looking at me in the mirror. “You look well! Are you excited about going swimming? We all know what a water baby you are.”
“Shut up, Mum,” Chloe said.
Chloe’s mum didn’t blink. If I spoke to my nan like that I’d be in so much trouble, but Chloe talks to her mum however she wants and somehow manages to get away with it.
“What are you wearing?” Chloe said, turning round and eyeing me up and down. I went scarlet. Nan had dressed me in dungarees with stars across the front, which looked incredibly babyish compared to Jess’s jeans and sweatshirt and Neada and Chloe’s pretty dresses. I couldn’t help but feel annoyed at Nan for making me feel so stupid.
“Look at you girls, growing up so fast!” Chloe’s mum said, quickly changing the subject. “I can’t believe you’re off to secondary school soon!”
Oh. Secondary school. I’d almost forgotten. Or, at least, tried putting the thought of it to the back of my mind. Chloe says you need to have a boyfriend by the time you start Year 7, or have at least kissed a boy by then, or you’ll probably get bullied by the older girls for being frigid.
That, and the idea of new people, new teachers and older boys, scared me silly. I didn’t want to kiss a boy, let alone call one my boyfriend.
The only thing I was happy about was the fact I had my friends with me. And as much as Chloe could be mean to me sometimes, I felt safe knowing she’d be there by my side.
2
I love swimming. I go to the local pool every Wednesday night with Mr Davidson, my PE teacher, and some other people from our swimming club at school. There’s only ten people in our group and we have so much fun.
Mr Davidson says I’m a fantastic swimmer with “great potential”, and deep down I know it too. He’d been a professional swimmer when he was younger but decided to become a teacher because he wanted to earn more money. He always says I should come to more swimming classes like the others, but Nan can’t drive me there in the mornings because of her rota at work.
I could stay in the pool for hours. I put my goggles on, hold my breath and imagine I’m a beautiful mermaid, swimming at the bottom of the ocean among the sand and coral reefs. I pretend I’m from a regal underwater kingdom, with a beautiful king and queen for a mum and dad, and all the friends and presents I could ever wish for.
Grandad took me to the leisure centre all the time when I was little. He’d taught me to swim without armbands by the age of three. We’d drive there every Saturday and swim all morning, then treat ourselves to sandwiches and crisps in the café after. We’d watch the grown-up swimmers from the café window, diving head first into the water.
“You’ll be as good as that someday,” he’d say confidently.
Nowadays we can’t go swimming together because Grandad isn’t feeling too well. He’d been a gymnast when he was younger and had always kept himself fit, but now his hip hurts too much to even drive to the leisure centre. Nan says swimming would probably help soothe his joints but he won’t listen.
Last year I came bronze in our school’s swimming competition. I don�
��t like to brag, but I’d hardly even practised. It’s part of an end-of-year event held before the summer holidays, where our school rents a local outdoor swimming pool and holds a fete on the grassy bit nearby. There’s a burger and ice-cream van, lots of stalls selling homemade things, and colourful signs and banners everywhere. We had to swim up and down the length of the pool four times as quickly as possible, and people lined up to cheer us on.
When Mr Davidson handed me my bronze medal, everyone in the crowd began clapping and cheering. As I walked around the fete with the medal round my neck and a damp towel on my shoulders, people were patting me on the back and telling me how well I’d done. It actually felt quite nice being the centre of attention for once, especially when I’m so used to Chloe being it all the time.
“With a bit more practice I reckon you could think about entering the regional swimming contest next year,” said Mr Davidson. “Who knows – you might even win another medal.”
Grandad said he’d never been so proud.
“I love this song!” squealed Neada as we drove through the town. Chloe was in charge of the radio, switching through stations before we even had a chance to hear what was being played.
“Me too,” said Jess. “My brothers went to see them in concert.”
I didn’t know who the boy band were, but pretended I loved them as well and nodded.
“They’re so lame,” Chloe said. “I’ve told you both that before.”
Neada and Jess looked at one another. Recently Chloe had become a lot bossier than usual. Even though she was being mean, they couldn’t say anything back to her when Chloe’s mum was in the car. I certainly wouldn’t want to argue with her.
Chloe’s mum quickly changed the subject. “It’s that school swimming competition in a few weeks’ time,” she said as we pulled into the leisure centre. “I remember you doing so well last year, Molly. You got a bronze medal, didn’t you? Amazing.”
I nodded. I always get shy talking to Chloe’s mum. She’s just so pretty. Words seem to jumble out of my mouth and I sound silly in front of her. I wondered if this is how some people felt when they spoke to Chloe.
“It was only bronze,” Chloe muttered.
“Bronze is a brilliant achievement,” Chloe’s mum replied, raising her eyebrow. “Why don’t you think about joining the swimming club, Chloe? You always enjoyed it when you went with Molly and her grandad. It’s just a shame Jack’s too ill to take you both any more.”
Chloe scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right, Mum. I did that when I was seven.”
“What’s wrong with swimming?” her mum asked. “Swimming’s great for toning. I have a friend who swears by it after having twins. Isn’t that right, Molly?”
I didn’t say anything. I wouldn’t know. I only swim for fun.
“The only people in the swimming club are geeks,” Chloe replied, and began to fiddle with the beading on her dress.
Chloe often has a habit of not thinking before she speaks. Sometimes it feels like she says things just to be mean. She knows how much I like the swimming club and the fact Mr Davidson thinks I’m good enough to start practising for regionals. I couldn’t tell if Chloe’s mum wanted to tell her off or not, but, either way, she didn’t seem best pleased with her.
“If you want to stay slim as you get older, you need to take up some form of exercise,” her mum said, which I thought was a bit odd, considering Chloe is one of the thinnest girls in our entire school. “You can’t keep eating the junk you do and expect to stay slim forever. I’m warning you now – wait and see.”
“Well, swimming obviously doesn’t make you slim. Just look at how fat Mol—” Chloe started, before stopping herself. Everyone went quiet suddenly, and it took me a couple of moments to realise who she was talking about.
Me.
3
When we got to the changing rooms at the leisure centre, Neada and I went into one cubicle, Chloe and Jess into another.
No one had really said a word since Chloe’s outburst in the car, and she wasn’t looking me in the eye either. Usually we’d get a changing room together, but this time she seemed overly keen to go with Jess.
I took my swimming costume out of my bag and studied it. It was strange – I knew I was a lot taller than the other girls, but I’d never thought I was that much bigger than them. I guess my arms and shoulders were a bit wider than the others’ but that was about it.
Gabby Morris in our class is fat, but she always makes jokes about it. She’s really kind – always happy and eager to help out with the school’s charity events – but she really struggles to keep up in PE. She comes to school with a massive lunch box, full of chocolate and crisps and fizzy drinks, and then eats snacks in the afternoon when she thinks no one’s watching.
Even though Gabby describes herself as fat, Chloe and the boys would sometimes make fun of her weight behind her back. I wondered if this was what Chloe did behind my back too. Sometimes I really don’t like Chloe much at all, even if she is meant to be my best friend.
I watched Neada getting changed into her costume. She’s a lot shorter than me, with caramel skin, beautiful shiny hair and skinny legs that almost look too long for her body. My shoulders came up to where the top of her head was.
When I thought about it properly, I suppose I did look fatter than the other girls. Chloe and Neada had always been thin. Jess played football a lot and had a younger brother to play with, so she was always moving. But I didn’t understand why I was bigger when I exercised just as much as them, if not more.
“I don’t think you’re fat,” Neada said out of the blue suddenly, and I quickly looked away, embarrassed that she must’ve seen I’d been staring at her. “Don’t listen to Chloe.”
I looked down. For the first time ever, I suddenly felt shy to put my costume on. Usually I couldn’t wait to get in the pool, but all of a sudden I felt incredibly self-conscious. The stretchy material clung to my body like cling film. Did other people in my class think I was fat too?
We put our belongings in the locker and went to meet Chloe and Jess by the pool. Neada’s slim legs looked like a model’s as she walked ahead of me. Mine looked muscly and they rubbed together.
I felt better once we got to the pool. The pads of my feet grazed over the ridges in the tiles and I smelled the chlorine in the air. I couldn’t wait to be under the water again to forget about what had been said.
“Where’s Chloe?” Neada asked Jess, looking around the pool. Jess shrugged her shoulders.
And then, as if on cue, Chloe strolled towards us, making her grand appearance. She was wearing a tiny red bikini, her hair bouncing on her shoulders as though she was the star of her very own music video.
I hadn’t noticed until now, but Chloe’s chest was actually growing. We’d stuffed our tops with tissue paper at my house once to see what we’d look like as grown-ups, but now she was on her way to getting proper boobs. It was one more thing Chloe had that I didn’t.
“Wow, Chloe!” Neada said. “A bikini! My mum would never let me wear one of those.”
Chloe brushed her hair off her shoulders. “Seriously, Neada,” she said, hand on hip. “We’re going to secondary school in a few months. Your mum needs to realise we’re not kids any more.”
Neada went bright pink. But perhaps Chloe was right. If anyone knew what it was like to be a grown-up, it was Chloe. Her mum let her wear lip gloss to school, and at weekends even let her wear mascara. She’d had her first kiss in the playground in Year 5 and she owned her first bra at eight, even though back then she only had bee stings for a chest.
“Coming in?” Chloe said, hoisting herself down the ladder and checking to see if any boys were watching her. I saw some girls nearby looking at her enviously.
“Watch out!” Neada yelled, and jumped in from the side of the pool, making water splash everywhere like a tsunami. Chloe got completely drenched, her blonde hair clinging to her face like seaweed.
“My hair!” Chloe yelled, and sp
lashed Neada back, who by this point was laughing hysterically.
We all began splashing each other, jumping under the water and screaming and laughing for what felt like hours. It was just like the old days, when Chloe didn’t care about her appearance and would just be silly and fun and nice.
“Oi!” yelled a familiar voice from the side of the pool. We all stopped splashing and looked up.
Great. It was Tom Beckett and his group of friends, huddled together and laughing like they were some kind of witches’ coven.
I liked to call their group “Tom and the Sheep”. Whatever Tom said or did, the other boys copied or found hilarious, even when it wasn’t. I hadn’t seen Tom in a while and he looked a lot taller than how I remembered. They were in the year above us at school and were now at the secondary school we were going to after the summer holidays. I couldn’t stand them.
Chloe suddenly jumped away from us in the water, combing her sopping hair with her fingers. It was almost as though she was embarrassed to be seen with us.
“Hi, Tom!” she yelled back, blushing. In a second, all the fun we’d been having drained away and Chloe was back to being annoying again.
I went to give Neada and Jess a stare, but they started blushing too. I rolled my eyes in complete disbelief. We used to make fun of Chloe for acting that way, and now here they were, acting the very same! Neada had never mentioned boys before so I don’t know why she was acting all giddy around them. And Jess was always one of the boys, not the type to actually fancy them.
Without saying a word, the three of them swam over quickly to speak to Tom and the Sheep. I couldn’t believe it. We always used to make fun of how immature Tom and his friends were, and now here my friends were, actually talking to them.
I stood in the middle of the pool, feeling stupid at being left on my own, and also feeling stupid for feeling jealous about being left.
“Who’s your mate, Chloe?” I heard Tom ask, and the Sheep looked at me in unison. I glared back at him, trying to look as annoyed as possible. We’d been having a great time until he and his stupid friends ruined it for us.
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