Strawberry Sisters (2 page)

I hesitated. Last week, my dad came to watch me sing at the International Day at school and we ended up having a big chat about the divorce. It started me thinking about my behaviour since my
parents split up. I’ve decided that I don’t want to be such a negative person. I’ve also realised that maybe sometimes, just sometimes, I can be a tiny bit, well, selfish, and I
want to change that too. So I said to Ella, ‘It’s fine. I might not bother with town. Go on making your cards.’

She tried to hide it, but she was obviously relieved I wasn’t dragging her away. Then her face clouded. ‘Do you think revision cards are silly?’ she asked.

I certainly never put that much effort into a little test.

‘I don’t think they’re silly,’ I said. ‘Super boring, but not silly.’

I have also been thinking about giving up saying mean things.

I’m not quite there yet.

Ella didn’t seem to mind though. She’s used to me. She went back to writing numbers in different colours and I sloped downstairs to where Lucy’s rabbits were being massacred by
the spoon-wielding hedgehogs. I’ve always thought of hedgehogs as being quiet animals, but these ones were managing some blood-curdling battle cries.

I sat down on the sofa and put my head in my hands. Now what was I supposed to do? It was the second to last day of half-term and the only people I had to hang out with were loopy Lucy and her
vicious animal friends.

I don’t like the second half of the autumn term. It’s always raining and cold and my mum constantly tells us to put hats on. Hats are the enemy of smooth hair. And
if you’ve got a long face, like I have, once you put a hat on top it’s hard to avoid looking like a mushroom.

Our second day back at school after half-term started with freezing sleet and Mum went on about not getting chilly heads, plus Lauren was still ill so I had to sit by myself in half my lessons
for the second day running. All in all, I wasn’t in a very good mood by the time Chloe, Ella and I got home from school and peeled off our sopping coats and evil mushroom hats. Ella, on the
other hand, practically skipped upstairs to change her wet tights and Chloe was so cheerful that she was actually dancing round the kitchen while she made a sandwich.

‘What have you got to be so happy about?’ I asked.

She beamed at me. ‘Something amazing has happened.’

When Chloe says something amazing has happened, it’s normally about the number of burps she has managed to do after drinking a family-sized bottle of Coke really fast.

I frowned. I mean, I was already frowning, but I tightened my forehead even more. ‘Is it about burping?’

‘Nope,’ Chloe said.

‘Farting?’

‘Well, I did do one in the bath last night that sounded like someone revving an underwater motorbike, but actually it’s about rugby.’

I sighed. ‘I think it’s just possible that rugby is the one thing I find less interesting than your bodily functions.’

‘But this is brilliant. Thunder’s uncle’s friend’s cousin plays for the Chiefs and, guess what?’ Chloe didn’t wait for me to ask what or even give me an
opportunity to block my ears to avoid hearing whatever dull rambling was coming next. ‘They’re starting a youth squad! They’re going to do trials and someone is coming into our
school to talk about it.’

‘Oh, that’s just super,’ I said.

‘I know.’

The thing about being sarcastic is that it doesn’t really work if the other person is too busy licking peanut butter straight from the jar to notice.

I looked at Chloe. Her eyes were shining. She really does love rugby. Since I was trying to be a bit kinder to my family instead of always pointing out how ridiculous they are, I swallowed all
my hilarious jokes about rugby and said, ‘I hope you get on the squad.’

She grinned back at me. ‘I will.’

Chloe and Ella were in such good moods that we had a pretty peaceful time eating snacks and chatting until Mum came home with Lucy. Even though Lucy finishes school before us, she has to stay at
After School Club until Mum picks her up. As soon as Lucy got in the door, the quiet, chilled atmosphere disappeared.

‘Urgh!’ Lucy stomped into the sitting room where Ella and I were watching TV, shaking herself like a dog so that raindrops flew off her red-gold curls and landed on the carpet. She
threw herself down on the sofa, narrowly avoiding knocking my cup of tea out of my hands.

‘Hey!’ I said. ‘If you spill my tea, you’ll have to make me a new cup.’

‘I am not allowed to use the kettle,’ she snapped back. ‘And when I’m big enough to use it I’ll make you a cup of tea and I’ll spit in it.’

‘That’s enough of that, young lady,’ Mum said, coming in and putting her laptop on the table.

‘What’s the matter, Lucy?’ Ella asked.

Lucy stuck out her bottom lip. ‘Everyone is horrible.’

‘Have you only just worked that out now?’ I asked.

‘Just because you’ve had a tiff at school doesn’t mean everyone is horrible,’ Mum said, shooting me a look. ‘You’ve got a lovely family.’

Lucy opened her mouth to disagree so Mum quickly went on, ‘And you’ve got lots of nice friends.’

‘Hmpf!’ Lucy smashed her fist into a cushion.

‘Have you fallen out with someone?’ Ella asked.

‘I didn’t
fall
out,’ Lucy sniffed. ‘I
jumped
out and away from her because that’s what you should do when someone is horrible to you.’

‘I don’t think she meant to be horrible,’ Mum said.

‘Who are you talking about?’ Ella asked.

‘Emily.’

I turned back to the TV. Lucy’s battles with her friends are long and complicated and I get confused because sometimes they’re intermixed with the battles that go on in her fantasy
land of rainbow ponies and robo-giants. Although it’s pretty obvious to me that Lucy’s friends are more scared of her than they are of the robo-giants.

‘Which Emily?’ Ella asked. ‘There are two in your class.’

‘Evil Emily.’

I snorted. ‘I thought they were called Tall Emily and Little Emily. Which one is it?’

Lucy folded her arms. ‘Little Emily, but she’s more evil than she is little.’

‘Why is she evil?’ Ella asked.

‘Today we had to put up our hands to vote for who should be library monitor and she didn’t put up her hand for me.’ Lucy glared with hard eyes, waiting for us to be
horrified.

Nobody was horrified.

‘Shocking,’ I said.

‘Yes it is,’ Lucy pouted.

I’m going to have to make my family watch a video about sarcasm so they can understand when I’m doing it.

‘People put their hands up for Ella yesterday,’ Lucy explained.

Ella looked up from laying out her school books on the table. She likes to get her homework done as soon as possible. Sometimes I worry she might try to do it on the way home from school and
bump into a bus.

‘What’s Lucy talking about, Ella?’ Mum asked. ‘Were you in a vote yesterday?’

Ella wriggled in her chair. ‘Yes.’

I rolled my eyes. Ella could be nominated for president of the world and she would keep it quiet. ‘Come on then,’ I said. ‘Tell us what it was for.’

‘Tutor group captain.’

‘Did you get many votes?’

Ella was as pink as her heart-shaped rubber by now. ‘Quite a lot. Actually, I won.’

Crazy. When I win something, I like to tell everyone. That way I get to feel winnerish for even longer. Sometimes I don’t understand Ella at all.

‘That’s great!’ Mum said. ‘Well done, Ella. I’m really proud of you.’

‘Yeah, good one,’ I said, but I couldn’t help adding, ‘even though you’re a traitor for becoming a cog in the hate machine of school that will crush us all in the
end.’

Ella beamed. She doesn’t think school is a hate machine. No wonder I don’t understand her.

‘Stop talking about Ella!’ Lucy snapped. ‘I started this talking; it’s supposed to be about me.’

‘But you haven’t even been voted for,’ I said.

‘Exactly! That’s what I’m talking about. It’s stupid that they didn’t vote for me. I’m really good at things. Ella isn’t. You can hardly even hear
Ella.’

Mum gave Lucy a sharp look. ‘That’s not a bad thing. We never stop hearing you.’

Lucy looked genuinely shocked. ‘That’s because I’ve got a lot of important things to say!’

Mum took hold of her hand. ‘
I’ve
got something important to say so listen hard: you can’t make people vote for you. You have to let them choose whoever they think is the
right person and if that isn’t you then it’s no good getting cross with them because that will make them even less likely to vote for you in future. Try being kind to your friends and
I’m sure you’ll get picked for something one day.’

Mum clearly thought that was the end of the matter and she went off to make our tea, but Lucy carried on moaning and groaning until it was time to eat. Then she went suspiciously quiet and I
knew that she was plotting something. Mum can say what she likes about Lucy needing to treat her friends kindly, but I remember the last time Lucy fell out with one of them: there were lots of
tears, a number of hidden lunch boxes and one very traumatised pet goldfish.

Later on, when I was doing the washing-up with Mum, I realised that in all the Lucy dramatics no one had shown any interest in Mum’s day. Out of everyone in my family, my
mum particularly deserves me being a bit more considerate; she’s always thinking of other people.

‘How was your day?’ I asked her.

‘Oh, you know, lots of noisy children. I always enjoy hearing what they’ve been up to over their holidays.’

‘Really?’ I pulled a face. I don’t know how Mum can bear teaching Year Twos all day. ‘Surely they do the same thing at home as they do at school: run around in circles,
shouting.’

Mum laughed. ‘They do all sorts. Georgia told me today that she helped her mum clear up “all the feathers”, then I found out that the feathers had come out of a cushion Georgia
was using to “sledge” down the stairs.’

I crossed my eyes. I’d been feeling sorry for myself because Lauren wasn’t at school, but at least I didn’t have to rely on seven-year-olds for entertainment.

Mum handed me a plate to dry. ‘Then we did Picasso-style painting this afternoon; that’s always nice. Even Shane Bolton can do that and it’s so important to catch Shane doing
something well occasionally.’

She smiled at me, but I thought it looked a bit like one of those smiles that I have to do when I open presents from Granny so I said, ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You seem a bit
. . .’ I’m not always very good at telling how other people are feeling so I tried, ‘stressed?’

‘Not stressed; in fact, for once, I feel like I’m on top of everything work-wise. I just . . .’ She trailed off.

‘Just what?’

Mum rinsed out the dishcloth. ‘I’ve been thinking that maybe it would be nice to have something other than work to occupy me.’

‘What sort of thing?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I should take an evening class.’

I can’t think why anyone would want to do any more lessons than they absolutely have to, but I know that my mum works really hard and I’m always telling her she should do more fun
stuff. ‘That’s a good idea. I could babysit,’ I offered.

Mum laughed.

‘What? I already look after Chloe and Ella when we come home from school until you get back.’

‘That’s different. It’s only for an hour and Lucy’s not there.’

It’s true that the best people to look after Lucy would be two bouncers and a lion tamer, but I was pretty sure that I could manage. I chewed my lip. I was trying hard to be helpful and
Mum didn’t even seem to want my help.

‘You’re always saying that I should be more responsible,’ I said. ‘This would be an excellent way to show you that I can be.’

Mum looked sceptical. ‘I’m not sure you’re quite mature enough yet, sweetheart.’

‘But I want to do it!’ I said. Then I realised that that probably didn’t sound very mature. ‘I mean, I’d really like you to be able to go to an evening
class.’

Mum patted my hand. ‘That’s very thoughtful. But I could always choose a class on a Wednesday night; that way you girls would be at your dad’s and we wouldn’t need a
babysitter. Maybe I’ll pick up a prospectus from the learning centre.’

Ella spent the evening with her coloured pens and a lot of Post-it notes. I guessed she was taking her new role as tutor group captain seriously; they were going to be super
organised from now on. Chloe was busy messaging people about the exciting opportunity to run around getting muddy while chasing a funny-shaped ball. I wanted to speak to Lauren about our chances of
getting another solo in the carol concert this year. Last year, we were the only people chosen from Year Eight and it was amazing. We had to go to all these special rehearsals with the older
soloists and even the singers from Years Twelve and Thirteen started saying hello to us when they saw us around school. The best thing was that our music teacher, Mr Garcia, gave us individual
tuition and I know that my singing improved loads.

But when I rang Lauren to chat about it she didn’t answer. Or call me back. Which was weird because normally, even if she’s busy when I ring, she gets back to me really soon. Or at
least she used to; when I thought about it, I realised that, over the last two weeks, I hadn’t spoken to Lauren as much as I usually do. I wondered about going round to see her, but it was
getting late.