Diary of a Lottery Winner's Daughter Page 11

  Fatally, I looked up and caught Spencer’s eye and then we were giggling uncontrollably. Mum didn’t tell us off because I think everyone was relieved that the awkward moment had passed. Now I was laughing like a demented person. It was like all the anxiety and embarrassment and uncertainty of the last couple of weeks was bubbling out of me and I couldn’t control it. I think Mum was about to say something and even Spencer looked a bit alarmed, but luckily at that moment Chelsea turned up. I knew she’d timed it so she arrived back when Mum’s friends were here. That way there was less chance she’d get a rollicking off Mum.

  When Spencer and I were clearing the table and taking everything back to the kitchen, I thought how much better I felt now that it was out in the open. It’s official: Lauren and I are no longer best friends.

  I decided it was time I stopped pretending it wasn’t true, and got on with my life. That thought started me giggling again because I sounded like some sort of agony aunt.

  ‘What is wrong with you?’ said Spencer.

  ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ I said, and I meant it. I did feel fine. ‘By the way,’ I continued,’ I’ve found a new friend, so how about you let up on the studying a bit?’

  ‘Okay,’ said Spencer,’ maybe a bit. I might meet Alec down the Games Workshop next Saturday.’

  We gave each other a high five, which started me giggling again because it was such a cheesy thing to do but it seemed right somehow.

  ‘The trouble with living in such a big house is that there’s about five miles between the dining room and the kitchen,’ said Spencer, holding the door open for me. ‘In the old house all we had to do was lean over a bit and we could put the dirty plates in the sink without even getting up from the table!’

  This was a bit of an exaggeration but I knew what he meant. No wonder people used to have servants. Chelsea was supposed to be helping us but had inevitably disappeared again. Dad and Gary were trying to decide the best place to put the Wi-Fi and Mum and Pam had lit a fire in the sitting room and put their feet up.

  I’ve stayed out of Mum’s way this evening because I don’t want her questioning me about Lauren. I might be feeling better, but that doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.

  Wednesday 17th November

  I couldn’t face the canteen today. I wish I’d thought to take a packed lunch - I figured I’d just go hungry instead.

  I’ve been sitting with a group of girls from my form at lunchtimes. They’re friendly and nice, but it’s not the same. And, of course, all they want to talk about is the lottery win and what new things have I got and where am I going on holiday.

  It made me realise that the only person who’s never mentioned money or the lottery to me is Annabel. I never see her in the canteen, though, and I wondered where she went at lunch.

  I was planning to go and hide in the loos for the rest of the lunchbreak when I caught sight of a poster advertising a lunch club. Come and get help with your homework, every day 12. 45 -1. 45, Room 122. Well, it had to be better than

  the loos and I supposed I could always get help with my maths homework. Especially after the last lesson when Stacy was fooling around and I hardly heard anything the teacher said.

  When I opened the door to Room 122 I would have backed out instantly, only someone came up behind me and I was forced to step into the room. I could feel myself going red. I’d only gone and stepped into Geeksville! It was like someone had rounded up every single misfit in the school and herded them into Room 122.

  I was about to turn round and escape when one of the bigger, gangly boys approached me. Before he could say anything, a girl shot in front of him. It was Annabel.

  ‘It’s okay, Peter,’ she said,’ she’s with me.’

  The boy backed off.’Make sure she knows the rules, then,’ he said, going back to join his friends.

  Annabel seemed pleased to see me and found me a chair.

  ‘Couldn’t face the canteen, then?’ she asked. I wondered if she could read minds.

  ‘What did he mean about rules?’ I looked around but there were no teachers in here.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Annabel. ‘That’s just Peter making sure that the wrong sort don’t get in here and start bothering us.’

  I looked at her.’The wrong sort?’ I echoed.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said matter of factly. ‘The rules are that when you’re in here you must never say anything horrid about anyone, even the people who have been picking on you. The other rule is that you must not talk about the room to anyone who doesn’t use it.’

  ‘But I thought it was here so you could get help with your homework,’ I said.

  Annabel looked a bit disappointed. ‘Did you come in here because you wanted help with homework?’

  ‘Um . . . No, not really,’ I admitted.

  ‘Exactly. You came in here because there was someone you wanted to get away from. She Who Shall Not Be Named, or You Know Who.’ Annabel smiled at me. ‘Sorry,’ she said,’ it’s just that when I found out about this room last year I felt like Harry Potter must have felt when he discovered the Room of Requirement.’

  I had to smile. That was exactly the kind of thought I liked having but would never have dared to say aloud because people would have laughed at me, or looked at me pityingly.

  ‘It was exactly what I needed,’ Annabel said,’ a place where I could come and feel safe, where I knew that no one was going to pick on me for one hour in the day.’ Annabel didn’t sound bitter or cross, just really happy. ‘It’s okay,’ she said,’ you’ll be safe in here.’

  I felt like I’d entered an alternative universe. One where school wasn’t the place you came to meet your friends and have fun despite the lessons, but one where school was an ordeal, where you tried to get through the day without being noticed and picked on.

  The truth was, I felt embarrassed being in the room. I wasn’t the victim of bullying. I had to get out of there. I didn’t want to be associated with ‘the losers’.

  Suddenly I felt ashamed of myself. Annabel was really nice, but the truth was I was too embarrassed to be friends with her. I knew that once we left this room the most I would do would be to sit with her in maths and walk up the hill with her. But that was exactly the attitude that had made this room necessary. I also knew that Annabel wouldn’t resent me for not associating with her. That made me feel even more ashamed. I wished I was a stronger person and didn’t worry so much about what other people thought of me. And in a way, what Stacy and Lauren were doing - being mean and ignoring me - was a form of bullying because it made me feel small. And I had come in here to get away from them. But that didn’t make me a loser. I looked around and realised that no one in here was a loser either. It was the people out there who were mean who were the losers.

  ‘Haven’t you got any lunch?’ said Annabel, looking concerned. ‘I’ve got too much, as usual. Here, have one of my sandwiches.’

  I hesitated. I was very hungry. I thought staying for a bit might be okay.

  Annabel must have thought I was hesitating out of politeness. ‘Go on,’ she said, passing me her lunchbox. ‘You’ll be doing me a favour.’

  We spent the next half hour talking about the books I’d borrowed from Annabel.

  ‘You should come to the book club,’ she said.

  ‘I think I will,’ I told her. And then the bell went.

  Thursday 18th November

  When I got home today I tried on my new clothes to make sure I had everything right for tomorrow.

  Spencer came into my room carrying some bin bags.

  ‘Mum says to put anything you don’t want into these and take them down to the hall. She’s taking them to the Salvation Army tomorrow.’

  I still had a load of stuff I’d brought from my old room which I didn’t want any more.

  Looking at Spencer standing there in his combat trousers and sweatshirt I thought how much easier it is for boys. No one seems to pay any attention to what they wear. Mostly, they don’t even pay any attent
ion to what they wear. They are so lucky.

  I sorted through all my toys that I’d grown out of. It was hard getting rid of some of the soft toys and I kept some of them. Trevor, my bear, was in my bed as usual. I’d never get rid of him.

  The first thing to go into the bin bag was a horrid head thing. I think it was for girls to practise doing hairstyles and make-up on. I couldn’t remember ever doing those things with it. I think Spencer and I used to use it for target practice. Next, in went all my old Barbie dolls. Lauren and I had spent hours playing with them. I picked up Barbie Princess and straightened out her skirt. I was pretty sure that this one actually belonged to Lauren. I wondered if she’d want it back. Perhaps I could use it as an excuse to round and see her. I don’t want to admit it, but I miss her. I know she’s been really horrible to me and I still feel furious at the thought that she wouldn’t even listen to my side of the story. I blame Stacy more than Lauren though. It’s like Stacy is some evil fairy who’s cast a spell of enchantment over Lauren. All I have to do is work out how to break the spell. I pictured myself turning up at Lauren’s house with the Barbie doll. She’d think I was mental. Or worse, Stacy would be there and I’d never hear the end of it - about how I still liked to play with Barbie dolls! It would be all over the school in no time. I thrust the Princess Barbie into the bottom of the bag then picked it up and took it downstairs to the hall.

  There was already a collection of bags by the front door. From the look of them, Spencer and Chelsea had been doing the same thing. I thought about going through Spencer’s bag to see if there were any of his old clothes I could have. But then I decided not to because I have a completely new image now.

  And that’s when I had a brilliant idea. If I could get Annabel to look a bit more trendy, maybe people wouldn’t pick on her so much or write her off as a hopeless geek. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? It was so simple. I could hardly take her shopping, though, and buy her a load of new clothes. She’d think I was showing off or trying to buy her friendship or something. Like Lauren thought I’d done with Stacy.

  I could see Chelsea’s old uniform poking out the top of one of the bin bags. It would be about Annabel’s size. School rules say that skirts are meant to be no more than three centimetres above the knee but no one takes any notice and we roll them up at the waistband - in Chelsea’s case to about one centimetre below her bum. But even if Annabel doesn’t roll it up, Chelsea’s old skirt will still be shorter than the one she wears at the moment. I took it out and folded it neatly then put it into a couple of carrier bags. I found Mum in the kitchen.

  ‘I’m just going to see Annabel. I won’t be long,’ I told her.

  I was so excited I practically ran all the way to Annabel’s house. Which is why, when I got there and rang the bell, I could hardly speak when Annabel opened the door. I thrust the bags towards her.

  ‘What’s this?’ she said. She was wearing an apron and was obviously in the middle of cooking tea. I realised that I hadn’t really thought about what I was going to say.

  ‘Um . . . Chelsea was throwing out her old school uniform and I wondered if you wanted it.’

  ‘I see,’ she said. ‘Why would I want your sister’s old school uniform?’

  ‘Well, I just thought . . .’ What could I say? That I could tell her she looked awful in hers? ‘I thought . . . ‘

  ‘You thought that because my mum’s in a wheelchair that we’re some sort of charity case?’ She didn’t look at all happy. She was holding a wooden spoon and she started waving it at me. ‘Well, we don’t want or need your charity. My mum has a very good job as an accountant and we don’t need your cast-offs, thanks very much.’

  That’s right. She thought I was giving her the clothes because I thought she was hard up. I had to explain - I wasn’t going to have someone else misunderstanding my motives.

  ‘No, it’s not about the money. I didn’t think you needed them because of that. It’s just that I thought if you looked . . . you know . . . I thought if you looked less . . . well, less like you do, then people might stop picking on you.’

  Perhaps I hadn’t explained that well enough to not insult her or anything. From the look on her face I didn’t think I had. She looked like she was going to hit me with the spoon.

  ‘Who is it, love?’ Annabel’s mum called from the sitting room.

  Annabel glared at me. ‘No one,’ she called back. Absolutely no one,’ she said again for my benefit.

  I was still holding the bags up. I lowered them slowly.

  ‘I thought you were different,’ she said to me. ‘I thought things like clothes and what people looked like didn’t matter to you.’ She was looking me up and down and I realised I had my new outfit on. ‘Well, I can see that I was wrong. I’m sorry if you’re too ashamed of me to be my friend. You don’t want me to have these clothes because you think it will stop people laughing at me. You want me to wear them so that you’re not too embarrassed to be seen with me! So that people won’t laugh at you for being my friend.’

  ‘No, that’s not it at all . . . ‘ I said desperately.

  ‘If you think I’m going to change just so that you won’t be too embarrassed to be seen with me then you’re sadly mistaken. I like the way I am, okay? Now, if you don’t mind, I’m busy.’And she shut the door in my face.

  I managed to get home, dump the bags back in the hall and make it up to my room before I started crying.

  Friday 19th November

  I can’t get Annabel’s words out of my head. I wondered all night if Annabel was right and I just wanted her to look different for my sake rather than hers. I think it’s a bit of both, to be honest. Well, from now on, I was going to be me and I didn’t care what I looked like; so this morning I decided I wasn’t going to wear the nice new outfit to school today. I’d show Annabel that clothes didn’t matter to me.

  I looked through my wardrobe and found the clothes I used to wear back in the Ratcliffe estate days. I put on Spencer’s old trainers and the turned-up combat trousers and found an old green and brown camouflage top. I felt like a soldier about to go into battle. Which, in a way, I was.

  The only thing that clothes had done for me so far was to get me into trouble.

  I got Dad to give me a lift to school because I couldn’t face the bus. Or rather, I couldn’t face Annabel. I was so embarrassed by what I’d done. I was almost more upset about Annabel not liking me than I was about Lauren not liking me. I thought about pretending I was ill so I didn’t have to go into school at all but Mum would see right through that one. She’d know I wasn’t really ill and then she’d start questioning me about why I didn’t want to go to school and was I being bullied? I decided it would just be simpler to go in and face up to the fact that I didn’t have any friends. Who needed friends, anyway? I was fine on my own.

  At least that’s what I told myself, and I believed it until I walked through the school gates. There was a bit of a buzz in the playground, like there always is on a Wear Your Own Clothes Day. Everyone was talking about what they were wearing and had they seen so-and-so and where did they get that top.

  I tried to join in with some of the girls that I’d been having lunch with, but they looked sideways at my outfit and didn’t seem too keen to talk to me. I knew it would be different if I’d worn the outfit Belinda had put together for me. God! People were stupid.

  And then Lauren and Stacy turned up.

  They walked through the gates with their arms linked and they looked practically identical. They were wearing leggings with shorts over the top and boots up to their knees. The boots had quite high heels, I noticed, and couldn’t help thinking that they were probably holding onto each other to stop themselves from falling over. They both had white hoodies on and big, gold hoops in their ears. They’d be told to take those off though. They were against school regulations, even on Wear Your Own Clothes Day.

  I’d never seen Lauren wearing anything like that before. They must have gone shopping together.

>   They were walking towards me, both staring at what I was wearing. I held my breath, wondering if they were going to say anything about my outfit. When Stacy saw me she started giggling.

  ‘It’s Wear Your Own Clothes Day not Wear Some Random Tramp’s Clothes Day.’

  ‘More like Wear Your Brother’s Clothes Day,’ laughed Lauren.

  I could feel myself going red and willed myself not to cry. I could see Annabel coming. Had she heard? Annabel was wearing her school uniform. Why hadn’t I thought of that? She walked past us and said really loudly,

  ‘Yeah, it’s definitely Tramps’ Day,’ but she wasn’t looking at me, she was looking straight at Stacy and Lauren.

  I had to laugh. I couldn’t help it. I never thought Annabel had it in her. Stacy opened her mouth to say something, but Lauren grabbed her arm and pulled her through the doors.

  I had to sit with them in the form room because we have designated seats, but they didn’t talk to me. I might as well not have existed. I kept my head up and tried to look normal, as though I wasn’t bothered. Even if it wasn’t true.

  Annabel is avoiding me. She got on the bus after me but she didn’t look my way and, when we got off, she walked straight up the hill and didn’t wait for me. I don’t think she’s ever going to talk to me again.

  Wednesday 24th November

  Dad’s putting on a brave face about the fact he hasn’t got a job. He says it will give him a chance to do all the jobs around the house but I know it bothers him. I think Mum’s having a hard time with Dad and Chelsea home all day. Mum says she tries to get Chelsea to do cleaning jobs around the house, I think in the hope that Chelsea will go back to school just to get out of doing them. But apparently Chelsea just gets abusive and refuses.

  I am an outcast. I am such an outcast that even the outcasts have cast me out. In other words, I can’t go to Room 122 at lunchtimes because Annabel goes in there and she doesn’t want to speak to me.