Very Popular Me

by James O'Loghlin

  But right now I didn’t have time. I had to fix my own problems . . .

  19

  LITTLE MR PERFECT

  The next morning I rode to school thinking about Mitzy’s advice, which wasn’t very smart because I nearly crashed into the gutter.

  How could I show everyone that me being the teacher’s pet could be good for them? As I parked my bike, I saw Johnny Wilson and I had an idea. (SAM APPROACHES JOHNNY WILSON)

  SAM: (LOOKS AROUND THEN WHISPERS) We’ve got assembly today, so I’ll be marking. I’ll do it.

  JOHNNY WILSON: Huh? What?

  SAM: (WHISPERS) You know. The . . . you know.

  JOHNNY WILSON: The . . . wha . . .?

  SAM: (LOOKS AROUND, WHISPERS) The cheating. For you.

  JOHNNY WILSON: (LOUDLY) Oh! The cheating for me. On the maths test. Cool.

  SAM: Shhh!

  The bell rang and, as everyone trudged to assembly, I headed for our classroom, scared but eager, trying to tell myself that this was a win-win. If Miss Lee caught me cheating for Johnny Wilson, then surely it would change her opinion of me, and she’d stop thinking I was perfect. So getting caught would be good.

  And if I got away with it, it’d show Johnny that me being the teacher’s pet could be good for him, and he might stop hassling me. And if he stopped hassling me, everyone else would follow.

  Johnny Wilson had given me a way out. At that moment I almost liked him.

  Miss Lee was already inside our classroom. ‘Morning, Sam. How’s your new sister? Everything good at home? How’s your mother? Getting enough sleep?’

  ‘Good. Yep. Good. Yep,’ I replied.

  Mum sometimes asked me two questions at once, but four in a row was a new record. I grabbed some papers for marking, making sure Johnny Wilson’s was among them, and then we sat on opposite sides of her desk. I found Johnny Wilson’s paper and tried to make it obvious I was hiding something by turning away and wrapping my arm around it. I started marking and whenever I came to a wrong answer (which was almost all of them) I ticked it correct.

  Miss Lee was concentrating so hard on her own marking that she didn’t notice. I coughed to try and get her attention. She looked up and I quickly covered Johnny Wilson’s paper, made my eyes go all wide and tried to look guilty. If she couldn’t catch on from that, she shouldn’t be a teacher.

  MISS LEE: Sam? What are you doing? Move your hand. Are you marking wrong answers as correct? For Johnny Wilson? You’re trying to improve his mark! Oh, Sam.

  SAM: Yes. I did it. I cheated for Johnny Wilson. I’m such a bad person. I know I’ve let you down. I guess your whole opinion of me has changed.

  MISS LEE: It has, Sam. I didn’t realise you were so caring.

  SAM: What the . . .?

  MISS LEE: Look at you, trying to help Johnny. He does struggle in class and it must be hard for him. I know your intentions were good, but that’s not the right way. It’s so sweet that you care, though. I’m going to organise some after-school sessions for Johnny, where he can stay back and I’ll help him work through some extra maths problems.

  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Johnny Wilson would be furious with me. Not only had I failed to improve his mark, he was now going to have to stay back after school. I’d made things worse.

  But I was positive I was on the right track. If I did something else naughty, surely Miss Lee would stop thinking I was Little Mr Perfect.

  I had another idea. Miss Lee kept a bag of lollies in her desk and gave them out as rewards. (Mainly to me. It was the only good thing about being the teacher’s pet.) If I could steal the bag and share the lollies with everyone, it would definitely win me some cool points. And if I got caught, surely that would be enough to convince Miss Lee I was a bad boy.

  I avoided Johnny Wilson at recess, then at lunchtime snuck into our classroom, (against the rules) opened Miss Lee’s desk drawer (against the rules) and took the lolly bag (HUGELY against the rules). As I headed for the door, Miss Lee came in. Yes!

  MISS LEE: Sam? What are you doing?

  SAM: (raises hands above his head) Oh, no. You’ve caught me red-handed, stealing your bag of lollies. I admit my guilt.

  MISS LEE: You can put your hands down, Sam. I’m not the police.

  SAM: But it’s pretty terrible, you’ve got to admit that. You must be so disappointed in me.

  MISS LEE: Not in you. In myself.

  SAM: What?!

  MISS LEE: Of course I shouldn’t be using lollies as rewards for the children. All that sugar. I’m teaching you all terrible eating habits. I’m so ashamed.

  SAM: (ALARMED) No! No, let’s focus on me. I stole your lollies.

  MISS LEE: Yes, because obviously you didn’t think I’d listen to you if you suggested I use healthy food instead. So you tried to get rid of the lollies by yourself. I’m so sorry to put you in that position, Sam, and thank you for showing me the error of my ways. You’re a real treasure. I’m going to go to the health-food store right now.

  SAM: But . . .

  After lunch things got even worse.

  MISS LEE: (TO CLASS) I will no longer be giving out lollies for good behaviour and good work. (EVERYONE GROANS)

  MISS LEE: Instead, I’m going to give out yummy healthy treats, like dried apricots and raisins.

  (EVERYONE GROANS LOUDER)

  MISS LEE: And it’s all thanks to Sam.

  (SAM LOWERS HIS HEAD)

  MISS LEE: Sam pointed out to me that it was wrong to reward you with unhealthy, sugary food.

  SAM: But . . .

  MISS LEE: It was very mature of him. Let’s give Sam a big round of applause.

  CLASS: BOOOOO!

  MISS LEE: And as a reward, Sam, I’ll give you some dried apricots and raisins, of course!

  (NO ONE LAUGHS. EVERYONE GIVES SAM THE DEATH STARE.)

  20

  OPERATION GET-A-PHONE

  Two plans, two failures. Actually, worse than failures because my plans had made things worse. Now everyone was angry with me because the lolly rewards were gone, and Johnny Wilson was doubly angry with me because he had to do extra maths.

  On the bright side, at least I was still coming up with plans (even if they were terrible ones that didn’t work). That afternoon I’d had another idea to get some popularity points. Some kids were getting phones, and anyone who had one was instantly cool. So I needed a phone.

  Often when I tell Mum I need something, she says, ‘You don’t need it. You want it.’ That may be true about non-essentials like textbooks or shoes or a shower, but if having a phone made you cool, I needed one.

  Back when I lived in Adelaide, we once had a yo-yo craze, and everyone hassled their parents to buy yo-yos. Then a month later the yo-yo craze was over and no one cared about yo-yos anymore. I wondered if the phone craze was going to be like that.

  Unfortunately, when it came to technology, Mum and Dad were a bit old school, although that was slowly changing. For example, a few nights earlier this had happened:

  (AT HOME AFTER DINNER. MUM, DAD AND SAM SITTING IN THE LOUNGE ROOM, ABBY LYING ON THE FLOOR.)

  MUM: I love that actor Johnny Depp. Remember those ‘Pirates of the Carrying Bean’ films?

  SAM: It was ‘Caribbean’.

  MUM: Cary Beean? Who’s Cary Beean? No, it was definitely Johnny Depp who was in them.

  I’ve never heard of Cary Beean.

  SAM: No, it was ‘Pirates of the Caribbeannot ‘Pirates of the Carrying Bean.

  MUM: I’m sure it was ‘Pirates of the Carrying Bean.

  SAM: No way. Google it.

  MUM: (PICKS up PHONE) I will.

  DAD: (SHAKING HEAD) You know, up until 15 years ago, people didn’t just reach for their phones and google things when they disagreed. They used to discuss it and work out the answer.

  SAM: No, they didn’t. They’d reach for that other thing . . . you know, the big, paper version of Wikipedia.

  DAD: An encyclopaedia. And it wasn’t a big, paper version of Wikipedia. In fact, Wikipedia is actually a
digital version of an encyclopaedia.

  SAM: That’s so interesting, Dad.

  DAD: (PLEASED) Thank you. (PAUSE) Oh. You were being sarcastic.

  SAM: I was. Anyway, you said people had been googling stuff for the last 15 years. Google’s been around longer than that.

  DAD: No, it hasn’t.

  SAM: Yes, it has.

  DAD: No, it hasn’t.

  SAM: Has.

  DAD: Hasn’t. (PICKS UP PHONE) I’ll prove it.

  SAM: Ha!

  DAD: What?

  SAM: You’re googling it.

  DAD: (STARES AT PHONE) Oh, no. What have I become?

  If I was going to persuade Mum and Dad to get me a smartphone, I had to be smart. The day after the ‘Operation Cheating-for-Johnny-Wilson’ and ‘Operation Steal-the-Lollies’ both went horribly wrong, I put ‘Operation Get-a-Phone’ into action.

  (NEXT DAY. SAM ARRIVES HOME AFTER SCHOOL.)

  MUM: How was school, darling?

  SAM: (PUTS ON A SAD FACE) Oh-kay, I guess.

  MUM: What’s wrong, Samuel? Are you getting bullied? Did someone steal those nice carrot sticks I gave you for play-lunch?

  SAM: No, it’s fine.

  MUM: (PATS COUCH BESIDE HER) Come and tell me all about it.

  SAM: (SITS) It sounds kind of babyish . . . I mean, I’m in year 6 now, but I kind of . . . missed you today.

  MUM: Oh, Samuel. (TEARS APPEAR IN HER EYES)

  SAM: It would’ve been fine if I could’ve just talked to you for a moment, but you can’t do that at school.

  MUM: Oh, darling.

  SAM: Yeah.

  MUM: Oh, sweetie.

  I was hoping that Mum would think up the brilliant idea of getting me a phone at this point, but she didn’t, so I had to nudge her along.

  SAM: There are a few kids who communicate with their parents during the day.

  MUM: How do they do that? Do they go to the front office and use the telephone there?

  SAM: No, they have their own phones.

  MUM: (LONG PAUSE) Oh.

  SAM: I wouldn’t want a fancy phone . . . I don’t need games and music and all that rubbish, but it’d be great if I could text or call you. And the other day when I was at Gary’s we kind of got bored and I had homework and wanted to come home early, but I was too shy to ask to use their phone. But if I had my own I could have just sent you a text.

  SAM: And it would mean you could get in touch with me anytime you wanted.

  MUM: Hmmm.

  SAM: And it would mean you could get in touch with me anytime you wanted.

  MUM: Hmmm.

  I wanted to keep pushing it, but I knew I had to be patient. Mum was suspicious of phones and thought they distracted kids from doing ‘interesting’ things like going for long walks and visiting art galleries. I couldn’t look too eager so I didn’t mention it again.

  Then, when I got home the next day . . .

  MUM: Samuel, I got you a present.

  She handed me a package. I ripped off the wrapping and there it was. A phone!

  But . . .

  It was an old-fashioned DUMB phone! No internet, no games, no Facetime, no YouTube, no nothing except calls and text. What’s the use of a phone if all you can do with it is call and text?

  She might as well have got me a letter-writing kit, or a carrier pigeon.

  SAM: (STARING IN HORROR AT PHONE) Where did you get this? A museum?

  MUM: Well, you said you didn’t want a smartphone, but it’s actually very hard to find one that doesn’t connect to the worldwide internet. I had to go to five different stores. Do you like it?

  The last present Mum had got me was that stupid doll before Abby was born, but this was even worse. The last person to own an old- fashioned phone like this was probably Captain Cook. If I showed up with this pre-historic relic, I’d get laughed out of school.

  21

  YES. MASTER

  Meanwhile, I was becoming Mum’s servant. I’ve always been good at avoiding work, but the baby was making it harder. I thought that, with the baby, Mum might be too busy to talk to me, but she talked to me a lot.

  MUM: Samuel, can you get me some wipes from the bathroom, please?

  SAM: Can’t the baby do it?

  But apparently the baby couldn’t do it, because babies can’t do anything except eat, drink, sleep, poo and, most of all, cry. That’s it. That’s their life. Meanwhile, I had to fetch wipes, peel carrots and take out the garbage.

  (TWO MINUTES LATER)

  MUM: Samuel, can you please ring your father and tell him to pick up some potatoes on the way home because we’re having chicken for dinner and we need potatoes?

  (TWO MINUTES LATER)

  MUM: Samuel, can you take the chicken out of the freezer, please, because we’re having chicken for dinner and we need chicken?

  It went on and on, like I was her slave. Even my normal trick of becoming ‘INCOMPETENT MAN’ didn’t work.

  SAM: Sorry, Mum, what does the freezer look like? Is it in the garage?

  MUM: It’s the cold part of the fridge.

  SAM: Aren’t all the parts of the fridge cold?

  MUM: The coldest part! Honestly!

  SAM: Is it at the back of the fridge? How would I turn the fridge around? And what did you say you wanted me to put in there? Chops?

  MUM: SAMUEL! CHICKEN! NOT IN! OUT! NOW! OR ELSE!

  A few minutes later Mum asked me to do the washing up.

  SAM: (LONG SIGH) Fine. But can the baby help for once? I’ll wash, she can dry.

  MUM: She’s a baby, Samuel.

  SAM: So? How come she gets out of doing anything just because she’s a baby?

  MUM: How could she dry the dishes? She can’t even stand up yet.

  SAM: Well, maybe she should learn.

  MUM: (DISAPPROVING) Samuel.

  SAM: How about I give her a tea towel and then put a dish on her chest, and she can dry it lying down.

  MUM: Now you’re being silly.

  SAM: Maybe Abby’s the silly one.

  MUM: Oh, Samuel! Don’t say that about your sister. You’ll hurt her feelings.

  SAM: She can’t understand what I’m saying.

  MUM: Yes, she can, because she’s a very clever girl.

  (BENDS OVER ABBY) Aren’t you? Aren’t you a clever girl?

  (ABBY BURPS)

  MUM: (EXCITED) Wasn’t that clever! You are a clever girl.

  SAM: How’s burping clever? Anyone can burp. If she could burp the national anthem, that’d be clever.

  MUM: Oh, Samuel.

  Later I talked to Dad about how unfair it all was.

  SAM: Dad.

  DAD: Shhh! We have to whisper.

  SAM: It’s okay. She’s out.

  DAD: Abby’s out?

  SAM: No, Mum’s out. Abby’s asleep. Talking doesn’t wake her up. Mum just thinks it does. Ever since the baby, she’s been acting all weird.

  DAD: Your mother’s not getting much sleep.

  SAM: Well, she’s acting silly.

  DAD: Your mother’s not silly, Sam.

  SAM: (ROLLS HIS EYES) I know. She came top of her school. She tells me all the time, like I have to do the same.

  DAD: (SILENCE)

  SAM: You know she came top of her year, right?

  DAD: (SCREWS UP FACE, AS IF IN PAIN)

  SAM: Dad?

  DAD: Has Mum ever mentioned how many kids were in her year at school?

  SAM: It’s usually about 100, right?

  DAD: She actually went to a . . . small school.

  SAM: So, fifty?

  DAD: A very small school.

  SAM: Thirty?

  DAD: (SILENCE)

  SAM: Twenty?

  DAD: (SILENCE)

  SAM: Ten?!

  DAD: Six.

  SAM: Six!

  DAD: And one left halfway through the year.

  SAM: Five!

  DAD: And another one missed the final exams with glandular fever.

  SAM: Four. She came top of four k
ids!

  DAD: But she was still top. I mean, she might still have come top if there were 100 kids.

  SAM: Or she might have come 97th.

  DAD: I guess we’ll never know.

  22

  NOT SMART ENOUGH

  Every plan I came up with to un-pet myself just made things worse. I needed help.

  ((RECESS. MITZY SITS ALONE ON A BENCH EATING AN APPLE. SAM WALKS UP AND SITS NEXT TO HER.))

  SAM: Hi, I’ve been trying to make Miss Lee think I’m bad, and to show my class that me being the teacher’s pet can be good for them, but everything I do goes wrong.

  MITZY: (SHRUGS) It’s not so bad being the favourite. You’ll get used to it.

  SAM: No! I can’t keep being the teacher’s pet. I hate it. I don’t want to end up like . . . (SILENCE AS MITZY STARES AT SAM. SAM LOOKS AT THE GROUND.)

  MITZY: (COLDLY) You were going to say, you don’t want to end up like me.

  SAM: I just meant . . . I need friends . . .

  MITZY: Oh, you poor thing. It must be terrible having to go, what, a whole week without friends? I feel so sorry for you.

  SAM: I didn’t mean . . .

  MITZY: Whatever. I’ve got to clean the whiteboards.

  SAM: Wait. I’m sorry.

  MITZY: You know what? One good thing about being a teacher’s pet is that when you help a teacher, they’re nice to you. (STARES AT SAM, THEN SIGHS) I don’t know why I’m telling you this, and you’re probably not smart enough to understand it, but . . . if she thinks everything you do is perfect, then use that. (MITZY WALKS OFF)

  SAM: (FROWNS) Huh? Wha . . .? But . . . (SCREWS UP HIS FACE, THEN SHOUTS AFTER MITZY) You’re right! I’m not smart enough to figure it out.

  23

  PANICKING WIDE EYES

  Gary and I were now officially not friends, which was fine. In fact, it was good because he was stupid and I didn’t even want to be his friend, not at all, definitely not, nope, not me, that’s for sure. And I actually liked eating my lunch alone, because instead of having to talk and joke and have fun, I could focus on really appreciating the delicious sandwiches Mum had made me.

  Even so, I did kind of miss him. Part of me (the ‘I’m-not-really-angry-with-Gary-I-just-miss- him’ part) hoped that we could fix things somehow (ideally, by him telling me that it was all his fault and he’d been wrong not to invite me over for a swim). But another part of me (the ‘Gary-is- stupid-and-terrible-because-he-dumped-me-just- for-being-the-teacher’s-pet’ part) wasn’t going to make any effort.