8

Invitations

On Saturdays I’m usually the first downstairs. Mainly so that I can grab the computer before The Brothers, but partly so I can get first pick of whatever Mum’s got in for weekend breakfasts before it all disappears into one brother or another. This morning it was waffles! Fyi, I like them hot, toasted and plastered with chocolate spread. But who doesn’t?! So I sat there in my PJs, happily licking chocolate spread off my fingers and trying to solve a problem on my website.

It’s easy enough to set up a website. Any dorkbrain can do it. But I was trying to figure out how to set one up where other people could upload stuff and not just me – like on eBay or Gumtree. I didn’t want everything going through me. I’d spend all my time posting ads for people.

Just at that moment two things happened:

a) I heard the letter box flap in the front door and

b) I remembered the homework letter.

For a nano-second I seriously thought about rushing along the hall and grabbing it before anyone saw it. (By which I mean Mum.) But then I heard her padding down the stairs. She paused by the front door. Not a good sign. She usually scoops up the post and brings it into the kitchen – unless there’s something interesting … or unusual … in which case she opens it there and then by the front door.

I held my breath.

‘JAZ!’ she bellowed, striding furiously into the kitchen.

‘I can explain!’ I cried.

She stopped to flick the kettle on and then she turned and waved the letter at me angrily. ‘You forgot your English homework again.’

‘I didn’t mean to. I was going to do it at lunchtime – with Lily. But she was busy.’

‘Too busy to help you? That doesn’t sound like Lily. Did you even ask her?’ she challenged.

‘Yes, I did!’ I protested.

And yes, I know I was sort of fudging the truth. But I didn’t want to admit that I’d forgotten to do it lunchtime. And besides, the reason I forgot was because Lily was with Kara, and Kara had been horrible to me – so it wasn’t actually my fault, was it?

Mum sighed. Then she made two mugs of tea and handed me one.

‘Save what you’re doing, and leave the computer for a minute,’ she said, sitting down opposite me at the table. My heart sank.

‘None of the boys has ever had a letter home about not doing homework, Jaz,’ she said. ‘And it’s your English. Again.’ Then she said, ‘Sweetheart, is this because of your dyslexia?’

‘No! It’s not! It’s because Mr Y doesn’t like me! He’s always picking on me. You can ask Lily. Ask anyone!’

Mum took a slurp of tea and thought for a moment. ‘My maths teacher hated me,’ she said, ‘and I hated him back!’ She took another swig of tea before adding, ‘So I made sure I did my maths homework so he couldn’t have a go at me.’

‘I meant to do it – I honestly just forgot,’ I said. Which was true.

‘Do you want me to talk to him?’

I shook my head. ‘It’ll only make it worse.’

‘You’re probably right. So what are you going to do to make sure you don’t forget your homework again?’

Fyi, dyslexics are brilliant at coming up with strategies. Seriously. It’s probably because we have to get round about a zillion problems every day. I don’t get sidetracked, or bogged down in all the little details like other people do. I’m better at solving the big problems. And I look at things differently. I’m nearly always the one who comes up with new and original ideas. Some of the greatest geniuses of all time were dyslexic – Albert Einstein, Leonardo da Vinci, Steve Jobs, even Walt Disney.

So I thought for a moment then said, ‘One, I’ll put my English book on my bed to remind me to do it today. Two, I’ll see which days I have English. And then three, I’ll set up a reminder on my phone, on those days, to check I’ve done my homework.’

‘Sounds like a fine upstanding plan,’ said Mum, getting up from the table. ‘Fancy a cooked breakfast?’ she added, opening the fridge. ‘Eggs? Bacon? Hash browns? Mushrooms?’

‘Bring it on!’ I said, ignoring the fact I’d already demolished two waffles and a bucket of chocolate spread, and we started cooking it together. Pretty soon the smell of bacon drifted upstairs, so The Brothers drifted downstairs.