When Sam and I come into school on Monday we find out a new boy is joining our class. Ms Hardy, the teacher who replaced Mr Caulfield after Sam and I proved he’d been stealing money from the school, brings him in after registration.
‘Now, everyone,’ she says, ‘I want you to meet Curtis. He’s new to the area and I’m sure he’ll appreciate some friendly faces. You can all imagine how frightening your first day at a new school can be.’
He should try a first day at a new school pretending to be a girl when you’re not. I bet my first day at this school was a lot more frightening than his.
While Ms Hardy smiles around the room, Curtis stands next to her looking at everyone as if we’re a bowl of cold Brussels sprouts. If he wants people to be friendly, maybe he should start first.
Still, at the next break, Sam and I do our best to be nice. ‘Fancy a game of penalties?’ Sam asks him as we go outside.
‘With a girl? I don’t think so!’ Curtis laughs, with a sneer on his face.
All of a sudden I go off the idea of being a friendly face. As far as I’m concerned, anyone who’s rude to Sam is not going to be my friend. In any case, Curtis is stupid – why does he think that just because we’re girls (well, one of us anyway) that we can’t play?
Someone near us laughs – it’s Noah. ‘You should try and play them, mate! They can beat anyone in the school,’ he says to Curtis. ‘Especially Sam.’
Sam flushes pink. ‘Thanks, Noah.’
Noah shrugs. ‘It’s true.’
And it is. I used to feel a bit jealous about Sam being better at football than me but now I think her being so good is blinding. And it’s not like I never beat her. It just doesn’t happen every break.
Or every day.
Or every week.
I get into goal, shaking off Curtis’s sneer, and concentrate on Sam. If you’re going to have a hope of saving a strike on goal from Sam, you have to focus.
Not that focusing has ever actually helped me.
Sam swings her right foot back and wallops the ball. I fling myself up in the air to try and catch it but it skims the top of my hair and hits the back of the net.
Then she does it again.
And again.
It’s not exactly fun to have Sam beating me at football but it’s satisfying to watch Curtis’s face crunch up with irritation when he sees how good Sam is. When we switch and I manage to get in five goals past Sam, he looks even more annoyed.
But when we pass him to go back into school, all he says is, ‘Lucky.’
He’s lucky Sam pinches my arm before I get the chance to say anything.
In the afternoon we find out that Curtis is good at a few things – like everything. He spends the whole morning sticking up his hand to tell Ms Hardy the answer – even when she hasn’t asked anyone to. Even when the question is something like ‘If Lesley has forty-two Wotsits and Ben has three and Sharia has eleven and a half, how many hours will it take before they buy themselves a family-size pack to share?’
But it’s not him knowing stuff that annoys me, it’s the way he seems to think that everyone else in the class is an idiot – especially the girls. In the last lesson before lunch, we’re doing Ancient Egypt and he walks over to where Sam is working on her pyramid project.
‘That’s not bad,’ he tells her.
‘Oh. Thanks,’ Sam says. She looks a bit startled, which isn’t surprising because it’s the first nice thing he’s said since he started.
‘Yeah,’ Curtis says. ‘I did something like that at my last school – when I was in Reception.’ He smirks and moves back over to his seat before Sam can reply.
‘Who does he think he is?!’ I forget to keep my voice down and notice that Melissa and the rest of her girly girl gang look round.
‘Shhh, boring,’ Sam hisses, our code word for danger.
The bell rings for break and Sam pulls me into the loos – the best place to have a quiet word (provided the rest of the girls in the class aren’t having a mass meet-up, which happens a lot more often than I’d like).
‘You’ve got to be more careful,’ Sam tells me as soon as we’ve closed the door. ‘Getting angry with Curtis could lead to you letting your cover slip.’
‘How?’ I reach up to touch my hair. My sparkly bunny hair clip is still in place. I look down – I’m still wearing tights and a skirt. I’m totally a girl. Sort of.
‘You’re supposed to be quiet and shy, the kind of person who stays in the background,’ Sam reminds me. ‘Getting annoyed with Curtis is going to draw attention to yourself. And you definitely don’t want that.’
‘Yeah, you’re right.’ I catch sight of myself in the mirror over the sinks and flinch. Every time I see my reflection I remember how much I hate dressing as a girl. Particularly as this ‘girly girl’ Dad’s forced me to be. Although it’s hard to imagine being at a different school without Sam to joke around with, I still can’t wait to stop having to dress like this. No more super-itchy tights, no more dyed hair, no more fruit-and-flower-patterned dresses. And no more butterfly hair clips. When I’m finally free, the first thing I’m going to do is put every single sparkly hair clip Dad’s ever made me wear onto the floor and then STAMP on them with the largest pair of boots I can find until every single sparkle is crushed into DUST.
There aren’t many things that can put me off my dinner, but the sight of my reflection with my dyed blonde hair teased into little stupid TUFTS all over my head would make the most delicious chocolate cake in the world look like a pile of mushy peas. And yeah, you guessed it, I hate mushy peas.
Sam’s right – I can’t afford to let Curtis get to me.