“Shall we play our game again at break-time?”
Tally glances at the front of the class as she speaks, checking that Miss Balogun isn’t looking her way, but the teacher is busy trying to coax the whiteboard screen into turning on.
Layla turns and grins at her best friend. “Yeah! I was thinking that Shadow and Peaches could be competing in a dressage competition, and everything is going well until Peaches stumbles and Shadow has to take her place.”
Tally opens her mouth, but before she can say anything Miss Balogun moves to the front of the room and raises her hand into the air. Everyone stops talking and the classroom falls silent. Tally pulls her newest pencil case towards her and checks that everything is in its proper place. She got this one at the weekend after begging Mum to buy it for her. Mum wasn’t that happy about it because she said that Tally already has seven pencil cases, and nobody needs that many. She gave in though, after Tally pointed out that she didn’t have one like this, with little sections for the ruler and rubber and pens, and that a pencil case like this one would make it so much easier for her to get her work done.
“We’re nearly at the end of the lesson,” Miss Balogun informs them. “Anyone who has completed up to question eight may go out to play. Anyone who has chosen to spend their learning time unwisely …” She eyes a few members of year six and tilts her head at them. “… will have to stay in until the work is done. You’ve got five minutes to make up for any wasted time, and I strongly suggest that you use it.”
Twenty-nine heads hastily bend over their books, and for a few minutes the only sound in the room is the scratching of pens on paper. Tally blinks hard and tries to make her eyes focus on the questions, but it’s impossible now that Miss Balogun has given them a deadline. All she can see is the clock on the classroom wall, ticking faster and faster as time runs out. She can’t miss her break, not when Layla has agreed to play their game. Well, she calls it their game, but it’s hers really. She made it up after their riding lesson, and while it’s in no way as good as the real thing, it helps to keep the amazing memory of her time with Peaches fresh in her head. Plus, she always has the best ideas, and she knows the most about horses. Layla is the best friend ever, but she doesn’t always get it right. Like what she just said about Peaches stumbling in the dressage competition. There is no way that Peaches would ever stumble. Tally guides her too well to ever allow her to fall.
“OK. If you’ve finished question eight then you can leave your book open on the desk and go out to play,” announces Miss Balogun. “Don’t forget to take a coat – it’s still only March and it’s cold. That applies to you too, Miles.”
On the other side of the room, Miles gives Miss Balogun the thumbs-up sign and then goes back to flicking his index finger against his thumb, which is what he always does whenever he hasn’t got something in his hands. He’s dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, and Tally doesn’t think she’s ever seen him wearing anything else other than on school photograph day in year four when the teacher insisted that he put on a jumper so that he’d look the same as everyone else. Miles tugged it off the instant that the photo was taken and shoved it in the back of his tray, where it has presumably stayed ever since. Miss Balogun can make him take a coat outside, but she can’t make him put it on, and they both know it. Tally thinks that Miss Balogun reminds him every day just to make herself feel better.
Miles doesn’t seem to care that he dresses differently. In fact, there are quite a few things about Miles that are different to the other kids, but it doesn’t seem to bother him, which Tally finds hard to understand. Not when the most important thing about being in year six is fitting in with everyone else, which is harder than Tally ever thought it could be.
Layla pushes her chair back. “Are you coming?” she asks, pulling her snack out of her desk drawer.
Tally shakes her head. “I haven’t even started question seven,” she mutters. “I’m never going to get it finished before the end of break.”
Layla leans over the desk and points at the page.
“The answer to question seven is right there,” she whispers, pointing at the reading comprehension that they’ve been studying. “The boy decides to take the old rowing boat to explore the island. And question eight is about the weird statue that he finds – just write down that it was to do with his ancestors or something. I’ll wait for you outside, so hurry up, OK?”
Tally gives her a grateful smile and starts to write. The classroom empties and it’s quite peaceful with just her and Miss Balogun in the room. She scrawls her answers on to the page, finding it easier to work without everyone else around her, and then shoves her hand in the air to get the teacher’s attention.
“Are you finished?” Miss Balogun walks across to Tally’s desk and casts her eyes across the book. “Off you go, then.”
Tally springs from her seat and speeds towards the door.
“Oh, and Tally?” Miss Balogun’s voice holds her back. “Next time, try to focus on the work and not on having a chat with Layla.”
Tally feels her cheeks flaming bright red, but she manages to nod before hurtling out of the room and down the stairs. She was focused on the work. Mostly, anyway. As focused as a person can be when they’re surrounded by constant noise and weird year six smells and sitting on the world’s most uncomfortable chair and, on top of all that, trying not to think about the argument they might have had with their mum that morning when their horrible big sister ate the last of the cereal and didn’t even say sorry.
She pushes through the door at the bottom of the stairs and out into the biting March air, dashing past Miles, who is sitting on the ground engrossed in the latest edition of the Guinness Book Of World Records, which is the only book Tally has ever seen him read. In her hurry to get outside she’s forgotten her coat, but it doesn’t matter because Layla is waiting for her, and she’s got the best idea for a story about Peaches rescuing Shadow from a crumbling cliff edge and impending doom.
“Tally! Over here!”
Layla’s voice cuts through the screams and yells of the playground, and Tally starts to walk across to where she’s standing with some of the other year six girls, ducking to dodge an airborne football as she goes.
“You’re here!” calls Layla, pulling away from Lucy and Ayesha and waving madly at Tally. “Come on, you’re on our team!”
Tally stares at her best friend. “You said that we could play our game.”
“Well, yes but…”
“We’ve already started playing Dodge,” interrupts Lucy. “And it’s our turn to run, so come and line up. The boys are already in position.”
Tally’s hands start to tingle, which is something that happens when she gets upset or worried. There’s only one way to get rid of this feeling once it starts, and that is to flap her hands until she’s flapped out all of the fizziness, but she can’t do that at school.
So she folds her arms across her chest and pins her hands under her elbows where they can’t do anything embarrassing. “You said that we could play our game,” she says to Layla. “You promised.”
“Don’t have a go at Layla,” says Ayesha. “You weren’t even out here. Honestly, Tally – why do you have to always make everything so difficult?”
Tally feels her blood start thumping in her veins, the way it always does when something completely unfair happens. It wasn’t her fault that she wasn’t outside at the start of break; she’d have totally got the work finished if Miss Balogun hadn’t distracted her with her stupid deadline and countdown. And now it’s all starting to go wrong and she can feel the other girls’ attention drifting away from her.
“OK, OK.” Tally starts to jiggle on the spot. “In that case, how about a performance of The Tally Show? We haven’t had one for ages and I reckon it’s about time for Marjorie to make a surprise appearance.”
She bends forward, one hand on her hip and puts on her best old-lady voice.
“Ooh, love – you might have given me a bit of warning, you know? This dodgy hip means that I can’t just leap into an impromptu performance whenever you feel like it.”
Tally straightens up and spins round to look the other way as if she’s having a conversation with old-lady Marjorie.
“Come off it, Marjorie. It’s not like you had anything better to be doing, is it?”
“Not this again,” mutters Ayesha, shaking her head.
“I’ll have you know that I was very busy,” rasps Marjorie, seemingly unbothered by Ayesha’s disapproval. “I was down at the bingo with the girls, eating my Digestive biscuits. Ooh, I do love a Digestive biscuit! Anyway, I was two numbers away from calling Housey-Housey. I just needed a Sweet Sixteen, Never Been Kissed and a number forty-four, Droopy Drawers.”
“What’s the weirdo doing now?” calls Luke, who’s somehow suddenly right there.
“Marjorie!” gasps Tally, blocking him out. “This is a school! You can’t go around saying things like Droopy Drawers here.”
Marjorie gives her best old-lady cackle. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You young people are just a bunch of snowflakes.”
She turns and grins at the girls. “Who do you want to see next? I can do Angry Des or Irritable Maureen. You can choose!”
“Just stop it,” mutters Lucy, glancing worriedly around. “You’re being really embarrassing.”
“Tally.” Layla steps forward. “I’ve already started playing Dodge. Let’s play this game now, and then we can play the other game at lunchtime, OK?”
The Tally Show disappears into thin air, as quickly as it arrived.
No. It is not OK.
Not even a tiny bit.
Layla agreed that they could play their game, and best friends shouldn’t go back on their word.
Tally shakes her head. “It won’t be the same at lunchtime. We have to play now.”
Layla looks at Lucy and Ayesha. “Could we switch games?” she asks them. “Just for a bit? Tally does have brilliant ideas and it’ll be really fun.”
Lucy tilts her head to the side. “Aren’t we a bit old to be pretending that—”
“Are you playing or not?” shouts Luke. “Or are you girls worried that we’re going to be faster than you? If you’ve got Weirdo Adams on your team, then you’re definitely going to lose!”
Tally’s stomach twists and she clenches her fists. Luke never used to bother her, but ever since they started in year six, he’s been getting worse and worse, calling her nasty names and sniggering behind his hand when she walks into the classroom. Some of the other kids have started doing it too, although never when Miss Balogun might catch them.
“Shut up!” bellows Layla, always loyal. “You’re weird too!”
For some reason this doesn’t make Tally feel any better.
“And you wish that you were faster than us!” yells Lucy before turning back to face Tally. “We have to play Dodge now,” she says. “Otherwise they’ll think we’re chicken and we’ll have to listen to them bragging about how great they are for the rest of the day.”
Ayesha nods. “We definitely have to play.”
“I don’t want to play that stupid game,” snaps Tally. “I want us all to play my game for a change. My game is better.”
Lucy frowns. “You’re not in charge,” she points out. “And you can’t tell us what to do.”
“Yeah, stop being so bossy,” adds Ayesha, linking arms with Lucy. “We don’t want to play that silly horse game. We’re not babies.”
“I’m not bossy and it’s not a silly horse game!” Tally’s voice is loud, louder than she meant it to be. “You’re being horrible and I don’t know what your problem is.”
Lucy rolls her eyes at Ayesha. “We aren’t the ones with the problem,” she tells Tally. Then she turns to Layla. “You can choose. Either come and play Dodge with all of us or stay here and play horsey horsey.”
Ayesha laughs as the two girls head towards the painted line that is used as the starting position for Dodge. Layla puts her hand on Tally’s arm.
“They didn’t mean to be unkind,” she says.
Tally shrugs her off. “Yes they did! They said that my game was for babies, which is the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard.”
Layla sighs quietly. “Not everyone sees things the way that you do, Tally. Other people don’t want to play imaginary games now that we’re in year six, but that’s OK. It’s OK to be different.”
Tally looks at her and then turns and walks away. She’s had enough of listening to other people say ridiculous things. There’s nothing different about her, and she’s pretty sure she sees things exactly the same way that she always has done, even if it does feel like every time she opens her mouth lately, someone gets annoyed or upset with her.
Layla is right about one thing though. The rest of the class seems to have changed since they started in year six, and nothing is the same. Nobody wants to play the same games that they’ve always played or laugh about the same stuff that they’ve always laughed about, and when she tries to join in their conversations, it sometimes feels like they’ve all learnt a new language and nobody remembered to tell her. She feels constantly on the outside and never, ever good enough.
And if things are different then it’s everyone else who has changed, not her.