Sugar and Spice. Jean Ure

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      “What are you talking about?” said Mum.

      “The iron,” I said. “Where’s it gone?”

      “What d’you mean, where’s it gone? It’s broke! Why don’t you make us a cup of tea and bring it in the other room? You’ve done enough scribbling for one night.”

      I made the tea, but I didn’t go into the other room. I stayed in the kitchen, writing my essay. I found that once I’d got going, my pen seemed to carry on all by itself and I just wrote and wrote, making up all these funny spellings. Tellervijun and sentrel heetin and emferseema, which is what my dad has got that makes him run out of breath. (It’s really spelt emphysema. I learnt it, specially.) In the end, I wrote five whole pages! Even longer than my essay about the sheep and the bananas. I felt quite proud of it.

      But then, guess what? I got cold feet! I woke up in the middle of the night and I knew I couldn’t really hand in five pages of silly spelling. I just wasn’t brave enough. But it was too late to write anything else, and even if it wasn’t I couldn’t bear the thought of Mr Kirk singling me out again. Specially not if it was about my family. I’d just die of shame! So I tore up my five pages, even though I thought they were funny, and on the bus next morning, on the way to school, I wrote down my original sentence: “My family is too ordinary for me to say anything about them.”

      I wondered, as I got off the bus, whether Shay would sit next to me again. I did hope she would! It had made me feel a bit special, when Shay sat next to me. But I really couldn’t think of any reason why she’d want to.

      

      This school is a DUMP The kids are RUBBISH. The teachers are PATHETIC. It is all GARBAGE.

      Well it’s OK, I won’t be there for long. Not if I can help it! They’re all a load of drivellers. Some stupid woman wanted me to join the gym team. Purlease! I’m not joining any of their ridiculous little teams, I’m not joining anything at all, NO WAY, full stop, finish. THE END. Sooner I get moved on the better. And I will! They’ll soon get sick of me. BUT NOT HALF AS SICK AS I ALREADY AM OF THEM.

      There’s only one girl out of the whole stupid lot that’s not a total thicko. Her name’s Ruth and she looks like she’s made of matchsticks.

      Anything but a thicko! Ha ha. All the dorks and drivellers gang up against her, so I might kind of cultivate her and see what happens. Just out of interest. I certainly don’t want her as a friend! Don’t want ANYONE as a friend. I can manage on my own, I can! I don’t need anyone. So I might not bother. I’ll think about it.

      Thinks …

      I s’ppose it might give me something to do. Take away some of the boredom. WHILE I’M THERE. She hangs out with this girl that’s a real slimeball. A right maggot mouth. But that’s no problem! I can deal with her. She’s just scum, like all the rest of them. Old Matchsticks has at least got a brain; sort of person I could do something with. P’raps I’ll give it a go. See what happens. If she’s not interesting, I can always drop her.

      The creep that takes English said to write an essay on My Family. What a stupid subject! My mum’s a vampire. She sucks blood…yeah, and my dad’s the invisible man!

      One term. That’s all I give it. After that – who knows? Maybe they’ll just give up on me. Save us all a lot of grief.

      Gonna write my essay now, about the vampire. Har har!

      

      On my way into school next morning, I was ambushed by Brett Thomas. He must have seen me coming and laid in wait, cos he sprang out from behind a tree as I walked into the playground. It was quite scary. I jumped and gave this little pathetic bleat. Brett said, “Where ya goin’, Goofball?”

      I said, “Going into s-school.”

      I mean, where else would I be going?

      “Wotcha got in yer bag?”

      “N-nothing!” I clutched my bag very tightly with both hands. “I haven’t got anything in it!”

      “Wotcha mean, you ain’t got anyfink in it? Wotcha carryin’ it for?”

      “It’s just s-school stuff.” I cast round, desperately, but the playground was empty. I’d done my usual trick of arriving late, after the bell. It was just me and Brett Thomas!

      “Give it us.” He reached out and grabbed the bag from me. There wasn’t anything I could do; I had to let him have it. Brett Thomas was a real hard nut, he’d bash your head in soon as look at you. Even Karina, who didn’t mind giving a load of bad mouth to Julia Bone, wasn’t bold enough to stand up to Brett Thomas. Nor was Julia, come to that. Nobody was.

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