The next day, Mum went to see Mrs Bell after school. She came out looking serious.
“She says she’ll keep an eye on those girls and make sure they leave you alone. But Emily…”
“What?”
“She says your own attitude isn’t helping. She says you’re a troublemaker.”
“See! I told you she’s on their side! She hates me!”
“No, she doesn’t hate you, but she says you don’t pay much attention in class. She says if she tells you off, you’re sometimes cheeky. Is that true?”
I didn’t answer.
Mum sighed. “Look, love, I know you don’t want to be here, but it’s not Mrs Bell’s fault, is it? Don’t take it out on her. You’ve got to help her if you want her to help you.”
So I did try – I really did try. Mrs Bell didn’t like me any better, though. I could hear it in her voice whenever she spoke to me.
It was strange. At my old school I was one of the clever ones in the class, but not any more. Nothing I did seemed to be right. The teacher thought I was a thicko; the rest of the class thought so too. Emily’s gang started calling me “Dense” instead of Denise.
But they only did that when there were no grown-ups around. Mum’s talk with Mrs Bell actually did some good, because two days later we had a whole assembly all about bullying, how evil it was and how all the staff were watching for any signs of it.
After that the gang left me alone for a bit – at least in public. They lay in wait for me in the toilets, of course, and at the bus stop going home. I began to avoid the toilets at break; I went during lesson time instead. Mrs Bell looked at me suspiciously. What did she think I would do? Have a quick fag? Steal the loo paper?
The girl called Jenny, who had talked to me on my first day, gradually got more friendly. She was quite shy and hard to talk to, not the kind of friend I would once have chosen, but better than nothing.
She was scared to death of Emily. If any of the gang so much as looked at her she would shrink away like a dog that expects to be beaten.
“Because it was me they used to pick on all the time,” she told me.
I said, “How did you get them to stop? What’s the secret?”
“Don’t know. When you came, they started on you and forgot about me. They’ve always got to have somebody to have a go at. Before it was me, they used to pick on this girl called Louise, but she left.”
“Oh, great! So I’ve got to wait until some other poor idiot comes along and takes over from me. It’s not fair! There must be something I can do…”
Jenny surprised me by saying, “Well, you did do one thing right.”
“What?”
“Told your dad. I was always too scared to tell anybody – I thought that lot would find out and beat me up. I used to make out I was ill so I could bunk off school.”
That last idea had crossed my mind, but I didn’t say so.
“Doesn’t your mum think it’s funny you’ve got better suddenly?” I asked.
“Yeah, she has noticed. She thinks it’s the vitamin pills she got me. Disgusting, they are… they taste like sweets gone mouldy.”
“You tell her it wasn’t the pills that cured you. It was me, Emily Smith, the world-famous doctor! After I arrived, you were never ill again.”
She giggled. “I did tell Mum about you, and she said…” Her voice trailed off into silence, and I looked round for enemies approaching. But no, it wasn’t that. “She said would you like to come over after school one day?” Jenny said, not looking at me. You could tell she expected the answer to be no.
So of course I said yes. I quite enjoyed it, and later I asked Mum if Jenny could come around one Saturday. Mum looked pleased. “I’m glad you’ve made a friend,” she said.
“She’s not a friend. She’s just someone I hang around with at school.”
All the same I was glad to see her. Saturdays had got even more boring lately, because Tom was never there. He always went off to Preston’s Farm to see his friend Matthew.
“What’s so wonderful about a farm?” I asked him.
“It’s interesting – seeing lambs being born, driving a tractor…”
“You drive a tractor?”
“Sure. Matt’s been driving them since he was ten. Don’t tell Mum though.”
And off he went. But it didn’t matter because Jenny had come.
We went out for a walk. “I’ll show you the sights of Brilby,” I said grandly. “Look, a house… another house… a river… a church… a house… a tree! Wow!”
Suddenly Jenny clutched my arm. “Oh yes,” I said in a loud voice. “That’s another of the sights of Brilby. Deadly Emily!”
I knew Emily heard me, because she sort of flinched. For a second I thought she was going to turn and go back the way she’d come. She was scared!
“Strange, isn’t it? She doesn’t act all big and tough when she hasn’t got her gang with her.”
“What’s she doing here?” Jenny muttered.
“She lives here, unfortunately.” I said it loudly on purpose. I wanted to see if Emily would say anything back.
She didn’t. She looked right through us, pretending we weren’t there, even though she had to step off the pavement to avoid us.
As she went past, I did something I’d never have dared to do at school. I grabbed the hood of her jacket. It was only fixed on with poppers, and it came off when I tugged it.
Emily spun round, “Give that back!”
I backed away, still holding it.
“Give it back, I said!”
“Say please, then.”
She tried to grab it, but I threw it over her head. Jenny, looking terrified, managed to catch it. We threw the hood back and forth several times, with Emily as “pig in the middle”. She looked ready to explode with fury.
Into my mind crept a feeling that I shouldn’t be doing this, but I pushed the thought away. I was enjoying myself.
“Give it! Or else!” Emily yelled.
I said, “Ha! She can dish it out but she can’t take it! I’m only doing the same as what you did to me last week, Emily. Remember? When my bag ended up in a puddle?”
There were several puddles to choose from. (There are always puddles in Brilby.) I found a nice muddy one, held the hood over it, and dropped it gently in.
“Oh dear, how careless of me.”
“I’ll get you,” she hissed. “I’ll get you for this.”
“Oooh! I’m so frightened!”
We watched as she fished the hood out of the mud. It looked as if the fur lining would never be the same again, and I felt a tiny bit sorry.
“My dad’s going to kill me,” she said under her breath.
“Good. I hope he does,” said Jenny recklessly. “Good riddance!”
“Now you know what it feels like – being bullied,” I said to Emily. “Not nice, is it?”
She didn’t answer, just walked away. I felt – I can’t explain how I felt – sort of burning hot, powerful, triumphant! I also felt rather sick.
Now I knew what it felt like to be a bully.