It would be nice to say that the next few weeks pass by in a blur, but unfortunately for Tally the opposite is true. The hours at school drag on and on in a relentless cycle of practice tests and extra maths, and Miss Balogun constantly telling them that they just have to do their best and then making them do yet another reading comprehension. Tally tries her hardest, but the air in the classroom seems to get heavier every day, and sometimes she thinks that it’s impossible to do anything except survive, which is tricky when every time she does do anything, someone gets upset with her.
It’s not like any of it is even her fault. Like last week, when Miss Balogun told them all to work in groups to recreate the solar system using polystyrene balls. Tally’s group got really angry when she insisted on including Pluto, because they all said that it wasn’t a planet any more. And even though she tried to tell them that it isn’t fair to kick Pluto out of the solar system because you can’t take something like that away just because you’ve decided to change the rules, they said that she was spoiling the model. And then Miss Balogun told them all off for a) not working well as a group and b) not listening to the names of the planets in the solar system. So nobody except Layla would talk to her for the rest of the week.
Home isn’t much better. Mum and Dad spend hours huddled together in Mum’s studio, hunched over her laptop and murmuring in whispers that they don’t want Tally to hear. They’re talking about her, she knows it. And the knowing makes her tummy feel like it’s filled with tiny stones and her head feel like it’s been stuffed with the same polystyrene balls that their disastrous solar system was made from.
Their words ooze through the crack in the door and slither their way into Tally’s ears where they slide and squirm and burrow into her brain like the parasitic worms she saw on a nature documentary a few weeks ago.
Meltdowns.
Demand Avoidance.
Autistic Spectrum Disorder.
Different. Different. Different.
So it is something of a relief when Miss Balogun gets the class together in the hall at the end of a sunny Friday afternoon and tells them that she’s ready to share the cast list for the summer production. Tally is certainly ready for some good news for a change.
“I wonder which role I’m going to get,” says Layla as they sit down on the benches that are arranged in a large square. “I hope I’m one of the squirrels! They only have a few lines, but they’ve got a great song!”
Tally doesn’t answer. On the outside she looks calm and relaxed, like none of this really matters to her. On the inside, her heart is pounding as she rehearses what she’s going to say when Miss Balogun announces her for the lead role. It’s important that she gets it right because this is where everything is going to change. The other kids in year six are all finally going to see what she can do, and Mum and Dad will stop having their secret conversations – because if she’s good enough to be the star of the performance, then nobody will think that she needs fixing.
And Tally cannot wait to actually feel good enough, just for once.
“OK, year six! Are you ready?” asks Miss Balogun, stepping inside the square. “I’ve spent a lot of time considering this and I hope you’re all going to be happy! I’ve tried to give you all a role that will use your wonderful strengths, and even if it may challenge you a little, I think you’re going to all excel at the part you’ve been given.”
She smiles and looks right at Tally.
Layla squeals quietly and nudges Tally with her elbow.
“You’re so going to be Little Red!”
Tally grins back. She hasn’t told anyone that she overheard Miss Balogun tell her parents that she was being given a role where she could thrive and gain in confidence because she’s been working hard to forget everything about that evening. But now the time is here and she’s ready.
It’s her moment, and for the first time in a while, she’s feeling like she’s due some luck.
“So, first, the part of the wolf is going to Luke!”
Everyone swivels on the benches to stare at Luke, who isn’t looking entirely thrilled.
Tally frowns. Luke is not a good choice for the part of the misunderstood wolf. He’s unkind and rude and he calls her mean names – what is there to misunderstand about that?
“Next, we’re going to have Ameet as the woodcutter!”
Tally supposes that this was a slightly better casting decision on Miss Balogun’s part. The woodcutter is the comedian of the performance, and Ameet can be quite funny.
Miss Balogun clears her throat. “I’m very happy to tell you all that the role of Little Red is going to be played by …”
Tally arranges her face into the smile she’s been working on at home. It’s meant to show that she is happy and surprised and excited and also a bit amazed, which is quite a lot to ask of a smile, but she’s pretty sure that she’s got it nailed.
“… Carrie!”
The hall erupts in an explosion of applause and whooping. On the opposite bench, Carrie’s cheeks glow bright red and the smile on her face doesn’t look like she’s even bothered to practise it.
“You’re going to be incredible!” screeches Ayesha.
“Well done, Carrie!” yells someone else. “You’ll be a perfect Little Red.”
“Thanks,” stutters Carrie. “I didn’t even put down for a main part.”
Miss Balogun raises her hand for quiet. “We’ve all heard you sing though, Carrie! You’re the perfect choice for the part, and I just know that you’re going to do a marvellous job.”
“You’d have been a much better choice, Tally,” whispers Layla, faithfully. “Carrie gets scared if she’s asked to answer a question in class.”
“But Miss Balogun wants someone who can perform the solo, and Carrie can sing,” adds Lucy, on her other side.
But I can sing.
The words stay deep inside Tally’s head.
I can sing. Why doesn’t anybody know that?
Am I actually invisible?
Miss Balogun continues to allocate the parts and Tally sits motionless, barely listening as she tries to figure out how everything has gone so badly. Little Red was her part. At least she thought it was.
“And finally, and possibly most importantly, we have our technical crew.” Miss Balogun folds up her piece of paper and nods. “Without calm, steady hands to provide us with our lights and sound, there would be no production. And this year, our fabulous tech crew is going to be Miles and Tally!”
She claps her hands, and everyone dutifully joins in, but there’s no whooping and cheering like there was for Carrie.
“Brilliant!” Miles sounds pleased. “I’ve already taken a look at the light board and I think, with a bit of tweaking of the electronics, we can make it really spectacular!”
“There will be no tweaking of any electronics,” Miss Balogun tells him sternly, although her eyes are twinkling. “Do you understand me, Miles?”
“No. I’m not doing that.” Tally’s voice is quiet, but everybody hears her and a few people gasp. “I want to be Little Red. I’ll be better at it than Carrie will. She gets scared if she has to answer a question in class.”
Across the room, Carrie stares at the ground, looking like she wants to disappear.
“Oh, Taaally,” groans Ayesha.
“Don’t make a fuss about it,” hisses Lucy.
Miss Balogun looks at Tally for a long moment and then turns away.
“Let’s put the benches back and then head up to class to get ready for home time,” Miss Balogun announces.
“You shouldn’t have said that about Carrie,” whispers Layla as everyone gets up. “You hurt her feelings.”
Tally stares at her. “You said it first,” she points out.
“But it’s totally different. I said it quietly so that Carrie wouldn’t hear.” Layla sighs. “I was trying to make you feel better.”
Tally does not feel better. If anything, she feels worse.
“I didn’t get the part that I wanted either,” confides Layla as they walk out of the hall. “I’m Villager Number Five, which doesn’t sound that good.”
Tally doesn’t reply. She doesn’t want her best friend to tell her about her boring part. She wants her to rage for her, to fight for her, to storm up to Miss Balogun and tell her that she’s made a massive mistake. It’s what Tally would do for Layla if she’d been treated so unfairly.
Besides, she’s got more important things to think about than rubbish Villager Number Five. Once again, everything has gone wrong for her, but there’s a tiny voice in her head that won’t stop niggling away, and the things it’s suggesting are making it impossible to hear anything else.
What if she is doomed to constantly have bad luck?
What if, no matter what she does, nobody ever gives her a chance?
What if she is actually different?