Natalie comes over to my desk at registration. “I, um,” she says, “I’m sorry. For ignoring you yesterday and for how I spoke to you the other day. I might have overreacted.”
“Really?” I say, surprised. I didn’t think she would ever forgive me. I mean, the evidence is still kind of that I ruined our project by writing to Horace King. But I suppose she was quite harsh to me too.
“I made you some dinosaur cookies to say sorry properly,” says Natalie, producing a small Tupperware box.
“I love dinosaur cookies,” I reply, touched.
“Friends?” asks Nat.
“OK.” We both smile awkwardly.
“Thank goodness.” Nat launches herself on to my desk and starts gabbling. “I am so sorry, Jess. I’ve been acting like a complete monster. I’m really glad we’ve gone together on the project, and I’m sorry I said I wasn’t. I didn’t mean it.”
“No, I’m really sorry,” I say. “You were right, I’ve become a monster about the comic. I got obsessed with it, and I should have put the project first more often. I’ve been reading loads of the books now though. I’ve got lots of ideas for the presentation.” Then I play my trump card. “And I drew a brilliant picture of a badger. Do you want to come round to my house tonight and see it?”
“I would like nothing more,” says Nat, beaming.
“And I’m off the comic anyway, so that won’t get in the way now either,” I add.
“I, er, heard about that,” says Nat. “Are you OK?”
“Oh yeah, I don’t care any more,” I lie and wave a hand dismissively. “Water off a duck’s back now.”
I think Nat is about to probe further on this and discover that I am only pretending to have this blasé attitude, but then Amelia kind of stalks past us and slumps on to her desk, looking upset.
Nat and I exchange looks. I nod at her. “Um?”
Nat addresses Amelia kindly as we go over to her. “Is everything OK?”
“Not really,” says Amelia sulkily.
“Do you want to talk about it?” offers Nat.
“Scarlett got caught shoplifting last night,” says Amelia.
“No way!” cries Nat.
“Blimey,” I comment.
“Yeah.” Amelia sighs. “And stuff has gone missing from our house,” she adds in a low voice. “And Scarlett is kind of the only one who could have taken it.”
“Oh, Amelia, I’m really sorry,” says Natalie. “That’s awful.”
“Yeah,” I agree. Though part of me wants to shout I TOLD YOU SO! at the top of my voice. No, that was the big-headed Jessica of the past; now I am kind and calm. And probably compassionate.
“Scarlett went through a bit of a stealing-phase when her parents first got divorced,” says Amelia wearily, “but everyone thought she’d stopped.”
“That’s kind of sad,” I say. And I realise that I mean it. I didn’t picture Scarlett as unhappy; I just thought she enjoyed being mean and pretentious for the sake of it. All this time it was a cry for help.
And I feel sorry for Amelia. Even after what she did to me with the letter. She loves her cousin loads and is very protective of her. It must be devastating to find out something like this about someone you look up to so much.
I’d hate it if my aunt or my sister got arrested. Though actually, thinking about it, they both have. But you know, not for bad crimes, just for criminal damage and obstructing demolition lorries and stuff. Not for stealing.
No, I shake my head. I mustn’t start feeling too sorry for Amelia or Scarlett. They can both still be horrible. But I don’t feel as angry with either as I did, and we head off to class.
For once I’m not looking forward to double art. This is mainly because (a) I haven’t spoken to Joshua since I stormed out of our meeting, and (b) Terry, Emily, Megan and Fatimah all have copies of issue two of the comic, which I still don’t want to see.
But as I take my seat at our table, I decide if I really want to become a nice, non-big-headed monster, I should probably try and be the bigger person. Maybe try and make amends somehow.
“All right?” says Joshua gruffly, by way of testing the water. He takes his seat next to me.
The others are just pointing and giggling at their favourite bits of the comic, so they don’t notice or comment on any tension between us.
“Hi,” I say. “I want to apologise to you for storming out of the comic and overreacting about Scarlett’s cartoons.” I state this amicably.
“Really?” asks Joshua, clearly surprised.
“Yes,” I say. “It’s come to my attention that I might have turned into a bit of a fame-hungry-monster, and so I’m sorry about that.”
“Wow,” says Joshua. “You never seem to stop surprising me.” (I resist the urge to make a joke about how great I am because I’m full of surprises as this might undermine my earlier statement.) “So you’re not annoyed about Scarlett being in the comic?” asks Joshua.
“Well––” I begin, but he interrupts.
“Because I’m meeting Scarlett at the weekend, and we’re going to go to the comic shop and––”
“I don’t think you are.” It’s my turn to interrupt him.
“Excuse me?” says Joshua.
“Um, the thing is, I don’t Scarlett will make it. She’s mega-grounded, apparently. She got caught shoplifting last night.”
“You’re not serious?” exclaims Joshua in a low voice.
“I heard it from Amelia. It’s true,” I state.
Joshua considers this for a moment. “Then I guess I owe you an apology too. For not believing what you said about her.”
Well, yes, damn straight you owe me an apology, I think. “Apology accepted,” I say. We shake hands.
“So I take it you’re back in the comic then?” asks Joshua.
“Hey, Jess, I love the quiz this week!” exclaims Emily. “Which Reality TV Star Are You? I’m the one that keeps attacking taxi drivers! Ha ha.”
And as she waves the comic at me, I look up and see that Scarlett’s “School Sucks” mouse cartoon has made the front cover.
Ouch. I blink. It still hurts. Even though I knew this had probably happened. And even though I said I would be the bigger person and stop letting my ego get carried away.
“Oh, you put her on the front cover?” I manage to say quietly to Joshua.
“Yes,” says Joshua. “So you’re back in?”
“I need to think about it.”
Emily, Megan and Fatimah talk lots about how much they love my bee cartoon (which has made the back cover, sharing the space with the fake gossip about teachers) and it does cheer me up a bit. But still. And anyway, I can’t put all my self-esteem eggs in one cartoon basket. Any more.
Having said that, Natalie loves my badger picture! I knew she would. We sit in my kitchen eating what’s left of her dinosaur biscuits and admiring it. “It’s definitely the best thing you’ve ever done,” she repeats. “This definitely makes up for the fact that you wrote to some mad, old bird guy,” she teases, crunching into another dinosaur.
“Oi!” I pretend to hit her.
“Oh sorry, were you not ready to laugh at that yet? It’s kind of funny,” giggles Nat, finishing her cookie.
“Don’t fill up on those,” says my mum, entering the kitchen. “I’m starting dinner now. I assume you’re staying, Natalie poppet? It’s not very exciting, I’m afraid.” Before Nat can answer, my mum carries on, “And, Jess, have you picked up your post yet? It’ll get lost in this house if you don’t.”
“I didn’t know I even had post,” I say, going to retrieve it from the hallway and coming back. It’s a bulky brown envelope. I rip it open and pour the contents on to the kitchen table.
It looks like an information pack of some kind, with photographs and booklets. There’s a covering letter on top, with a familiar logo in the corner.
I pick up the letter. Suddenly I recognise that one of the photographs is an owl being held by … none other than Horace King! “Oh my
God!” I exclaim. No WAY! He wrote back? I start reading the letter.
“What?” Natalie jumps up and starts trying to read over my shoulder.
“It’s a letter from … Horace,” I manage.
“No way! He wrote back? What does it say?”
I start reading the letter. “It says, ‘Dear Jessica and Natalie’—” I break off. “That’s us!”
“I know!” squeals Natalie. “Carry on.”
“‘I was utterly delighted to receive your letter about your wildlife project.’ Wow! He was delighted!”
I read on. Horace’s letter says that wildlife conservation is an issue really close to his heart, and so he is thrilled that young people are taking an interest in it. (I mean, in all fairness we were forced to by our school, but let’s not focus on that for now.) He says normally the people that write to him are middle-aged (like my dad, I guess!).
And because he’s so over the moon that some young people wrote to him, he says he would like to invite us to the bird sanctuary he is a patron of, to meet some of the rescued birds and animals! Including Poppy, a barn owl who was recently on Blue Peter. If that would help us with our project? This is amazing.
“Uh, Nat, just tell me again how I ruined our project by writing to that mad, old bird guy?” I say.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Nat is incredulous. “I never thought – I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
“And I was right?” I prompt, enjoying myself.
“Yes,” says Natalie tiredly.
“Say it.”
“You were right.”
“Hang on, say it again, I want to record it––”
“Oh, shut up!” laughs Nat. “You’re totally amazing, I’m totally an idiot etc etc. There. Gloating done. This is amazing, Jess!”
“Hey, the gloating will be done when I say it’s done,” I say. “But yes, this is amazing!” Nat and I hug and jump up and down with excitement.
“What’s all this then?” asks my dad, entering the kitchen.
I hand him the letter and he goes quiet for a moment as he reads it. I thought he might show more of a reaction than this, to be honest. I mean, it’s his childhood hero for crying out loud.
Finally my dad clears his throat. “Now, Jessica, I’m afraid you’re just a bit too young to go off and do things like this on your own.” I look at him, starting to feel crushed. “So I think I’m just going to have to come with you.” Then his face cracks into a massive grin and he nearly starts jumping up and down as well. “Horace King! I can’t believe it.”
My brilliant secret plan has actually worked out perfectly. Like, to the letter. See? I don’t need a comic to make me feel good. I am a nice friend, sister and daughter. I can be brilliant in non-big-headed ways. I don’t need any further approval. (Admittedly, saying it like that sounds slightly big-headed, but still.)
The bird sanctuary is a lot of fun. Nat and I both feel a bit nervous when we first arrive, as we’re not sure what to expect.
“We’ve got to be brave,” whispers Nat. “And besides, I bet none of our classmates have come here.”
“Well, you know, they didn’t have genius little me in their teams, to think of writing to the right people.”
Nat rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. And I bet they haven’t got anything like this close to any celebrities.”
“Can we call him a celebrity?” I ask.
“He is to your dad.”
We wait in the foyer until we hear the receptionist say, “Your guests are here, Horace.”
Then Horace steps out, “Hello, hello!” he says jovially.
My dad bounds up to him, way too eager. “It is an honour to meet you, sir,” he says. I feel slightly embarrassed by how keen my dad is. And why did he have to call him sir?
“Nonsense!” Horace shakes my dad’s hand warmly.
I think my dad must be nervous too, because then he says, “I’ve liked you since I was seven.” Then he adds, quite unnecessarily, “I’m forty-eight now.”
Luckily Horace looks amused. Natalie and I try and stifle our giggles.
Horace smiles at us. “And you must be Natalie and Jessica?” We nod shyly. “I loved your letter.” We smile. “So. Are you ready for a crazy old man to show you some birds?”
Natalie and I can’t help but giggle. “Yes,” I manage.
“Please,” says Natalie.
Horace waves his hand jauntily and motions that we should follow him.
After five minutes of talking to Horace, Natalie and I decide he’s not crazy at all, just very enthusiastic about birds. He’s also very funny and completely self-aware. He seems to actively delight in playing up to a slightly eccentric image.
Horace shows us around the sanctuary, chatting knowledgeably about all the different birds. He tells us how he was about our age when he first got interested in birds and learned to identify all the different types in his garden by their different songs and plumages.
He says what sounds like simple birdsong to us is actually amazingly complicated and contains all sorts of different systems and meanings, and he talks about the zebra finch and how if it doesn’t hear its species’ mating call within the first eighteen days of its life, it can never learn it, and can then never mate. (Which seems like quite a heavy price to pay for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.) Horace laughs delightedly when I say this.
Then he shows us how to make a bird feeder for our gardens. My dad gets ridiculously excited by this because it’s a lot like the one he made as a child, when he tried to copy the way Horace did it on TV. So Horace lets my dad make one to take home as well, and he is all smiles. Honestly.
At the end we have our photographs taken with Horace and Poppy the barn owl from Blue Peter. By this point my dad is having such a good time that he doesn’t appear even slightly embarrassed when he asks if he can get his picture taken with Poppy and Horace as well. He’s like a giant, gleeful five-year-old. But Horace happily obliges.
Despite my dad’s antics, this bit is really exciting. I feel scared as they lower the bird on to my arm, which is covered by a special glove. It’s terrifying, but also thrilling. And for ages afterwards the adrenalin is going nuts inside me.
We part company with Horace happily, agreeing with him about the dangers of global warming and promising to buy some energy-saving light bulbs for our house. All in all, it’s an amazing experience.
I was right about my dad loving meeting Horace. He’s been on cloud nine since we got home. I think he sort of might actually want to be Horace. My cunning plan to cheer him up may have worked too well.
“I want to replace all our old light bulbs with energy-saving ones straight away,” he announces, sitting down to that night’s dinner of Super Saver Value spaghetti bolognese.
My mum looks at him suspiciously. “Have you been talking to Tammy? Did she put you up to this?”
“No,” says my dad. “Horace King said––”
“Oh no, not Horace King again,” interrupts my mum. “I’m sick of hearing about him all the time.”
“Mum, to be fair, we’ve only been back two hours,” I say.
“Well, it feels like longer,” snaps my mum.
“What?” objects my dad. “Jessica and I had a wonderful time at his sanctuary. And it will not only help the planet, but it will save us money. I was reading online and it could save us up to three pounds a year per bulb!”
“Oh, it will be way less than that,” my aunt assures him. “You hear all kinds of conflicting amounts with these things.”
“The point is, there’ll be savings,” says my dad.
“I vote for Daddy,” pipes up Ryan.
“What do you mean, you vote for Dad?” I say. “No one’s even voting on anything.”
“I vote for Daddy’s savings, and then with the money we save we can buy Kit Kats again,” explains Ryan.
“Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose,” says my aunt absently.
“What does that mean?” asks
my dad.
“The more things change the more they stay the same,” I reply, suddenly realising I know it. “It’s French.” So that’s how the rest of that saying goes. I have just applied learning to an everyday situation. Amazing. This must be how properly clever people feel every day.
“Vote for the Kit Kats! Vote for the Kit Kats!” Ryan tries to start up a chant.
“So you’re saying Ryan is repetitive?” comments my mum drily.
“Vote for the Kit Kats!”
“You know what, I vote for the Kit Kats as well,” I say. “Just for the sheer determination involved.”
“Well,” says my mum. “If we’re saving money on electricity, we can … possibly afford to start buying Kit Kats again.”
“Yesssss!” shouts Ryan, punching the air with his fist.
“Next saving we make, muggins here is getting a new wing mirror!” Enough with the nickname, Mum!
“You need a new wing mirror?” my aunt says to my mum, sounding surprised.
My mum laughs. “Did you think the gaffer tape was part of some used-car chic we were going for?”
My aunt laughs too and rolls her eyes.
“I’m sorry, love, we can’t stretch to that yet,” says my dad sadly.
“Kit Kats! Kit Kats! Kit Kats!” chants Ryan, completely oblivious to my mum’s woes.
“But the lesson here is managing your budget,” my dad tells Ryan pointlessly.
I don’t think that is the lesson Ryan will be taking away from this experience at all. I think he views the lesson as: never-shut-up-about-Kit-Kats-and-you-will-win.
So what has two thumbs and a load of Kit Kats? Ryan does! (Come on, guys, sometimes you have to subvert the formula; keep up.)
Natalie and I are spurred on by meeting Horace and seeing all those birds up close. His enthusiasm for the subject is infectious and we decide to do a load of work on our project in an inspired flourish, writing the chapter on birds together the next day, while it’s still fresh in our minds.
My Brilliant Life and Other Disasters Page 11