THE BUG HUNTERS
Sofia’s sigh misted up the car window as they drove down Brackenberry Road. She’d been hoping it would be a leafy dell or a forest glade, beside a river, with willow trees. She’d imagined number seven to be a thatched cottage, with foxgloves and hollyhocks, but Brackenberry Road was an ordinary street lined with ordinary houses, red-brick boxes topped with charcoal slate. The removal lorry farted grey smoke as it came to a halt outside an unremarkable house with the number seven on the door.
Sofia’s mum parked the car behind the lorry and looked across at her from the driving seat.
“Wait till you see your new bedroom, Sofia,” she said, her voice dancing with excitement. “You’re going to love it here.”
Sofia nodded, but she was doubtful. Saying goodbye to Jess, her best friend, knowing she wouldn’t see her every day, had hurt. She’d cried for the first part of the car journey, until she’d run out of tears. She didn’t want to move house, but Mum had got a new job and now everything had to change.
“I have to make sure the removal people put the boxes in the right rooms.” Her mum pulled the keys from the ignition, dropping them into her handbag. “Why don’t you explore the garden?”
“OK.” Unclipping her seat belt, Sofia clambered out of the car. She was dressed for the outdoors, having got up early to take a last walk down the wildlife trail beside her old house and say goodbye to the forest den she and Jess had built from fallen branches and ferns. She was wearing her purple wellies with rainbow socks pulled up past her knees, a pink T-shirt covered in stars, and a pair of shorts that had once been jeans but had the legs cut off when Sofia had ripped them at the knees sliding down a muddy bank. She grabbed her blue hoodie and bug bag, pulling them both over her head as she walked towards the house.
Maybe the garden is overgrown and wild, with a pond full of frogspawn and newts, she thought. There might be dragonflies.
A woman in overalls was lowering a ramp at the back of the removal lorry. Two men inside the lorry were pushing boxes towards it. The door of number seven was already open. Sofia walked into the house, peering into the empty rooms. A staircase invited her upwards to see her new bedroom, but she ignored it, marching through the kitchen and out into a utility room where she found the back door. A silver key poked out of the lock.
This house may be horrid, she thought, but the garden could be good.
Sofia had dreamed of having a hidden, overgrown bit of earth to bring to life, ever since reading The Secret Garden. She turned the key and yanked the back door open.
A patio of concrete slabs led out to a long rectangle of perfectly mown grass. At the end of the garden, in the left-hand corner, was a neat-looking shed. Her curiosity dwindled as she approached it. The window in the door revealed that the shed was empty. There were three conifer trees at the bottom of the garden, their branches too dense with foliage for climbing. Sofia felt flat as she looked at the uninspiring garden, and a fire of anger tore through her chest.
“Urgh! I hate it here,” she said to herself, kicking the trunk of the nearest conifer. “There aren’t even any fruit trees!”
She watched as sticky sap oozed from the torn bark where her boot had struck the tree. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.”
She leaned her head against the bark, breathing in the grassy-pine perfume of the wounded conifer. Her sore heart was throbbing like a thumb hit by a hammer. She wanted to go home. A tear ran down her cheek, but she wiped it away. She’d promised her mum she wouldn’t cry any more.
A trail of determined ants, marching up the trunk of the injured tree, stopped to examine the freshly bled sap.
“Hello.” Sophie brought her face close. “You’re busy, aren’t you?” Rummaging around in her bug bag, she pulled out a portable magnifying glass and slipped it out of its worn leather case. She crouched down and examined the army of ants.
Maybe now we’ve moved, she thought, Mum will let me build an ant farm.
With her head against the tree trunk she could see the fence at the back of the garden and there, tucked behind the empty shed, was a tall, thin gate.
“Oh!” She ducked under a low branch and wriggled through to the gap behind the shed. The gate was hidden from the rest of the garden. She drew back the bolt, but the door was swollen stuck. A couple of good shoves popped it open, and Sofia stepped out on to a footpath that ran along the back of the houses. It was wide enough to ride a bike down. On the opposite side of the footpath was a hedgerow, thick with nettles and brambles, and beyond it, a field of wheat.
“Blackberries!” Sofia stepped forward and picked one, popping it into her mouth, savouring the sour sweetness as it burst on her tongue. She walked along the hedgerow, picking and eating berries, until she noticed three caterpillars on nettle leaves close to the ground. She squatted down and peered at them through her magnifying glass. The caterpillars were nearly three centimetres long, dark with pale-tipped spines and a lemon pattern of marks along their bodies.
“Vanessa atalanta,” she whispered to herself, opening her bag and pulling out a clear plastic pot with tiny air holes in the lid. Grasping the nettle leaf firmly with thumb and forefinger, to avoid being stung, she plucked the leaf hosting one of the caterpillars and carefully slid it into her pot.
Hearing a rustle, Sofia looked to her right. There was a girl, way up the path. She was standing feet apart, staring at Sofia, her eyes enlarged by thick glasses. She was wearing fluffy monster-feet slippers and a faded yellow adult-sized T-shirt as a dress with a belt pulling it in at the waist. In one hand she clutched a pad of paper, and in the other, a pencil case. Her long blonde hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in months.
Sofia lifted her hand and waved, but the girl turned and ran away.
“What are you doing?”
Sofia jumped, not expecting to hear a voice so close behind her. She spun round. Peering over the fence, a shrub of red curly hair sat atop two bright-blue eyes and a freckle-smattered nose.
“I’m bug hunting,” Sofia replied, holding up her plastic pot. “This is the red admiral caterpillar. It’s in its fifth instar, which means it’s going to pupate soon and turn into a butterfly.”
“Bug hunting?” With a scuffle and a thump, the red-haired girl was over the fence and crouching down beside her. “What are you hunting them for? Do you kill them?”
“No!” Sofia said. “That would be cruel.”
“When people hunt animals they normally do kill them,” the red-haired girl replied, staring down at the caterpillar in the pot. “They shoot them and chop off their heads, stuff them and hang them on the wall.” She giggled. “Imagine hanging a dead caterpillar head on the wall.”
Sofia frowned. She didn’t like that idea.
“I live at number thirteen.” The girl pointed at the house beyond the fence. “You’re the new girl at number seven, aren’t you?” She looked proud, as if she’d solved a mystery. “I saw you arrive.”
“My name’s Sofia.”
“Hi, Sofia. I’m Cassidy.” She pointed at the spiny caterpillar in the pot. “If you don’t kill the bugs, what do you do with them?”
“Well, this one I was going to take back to my terrarium and watch it weave leaves together with silk, to make a cocoon. Then hopefully it will become a pupa and I’ll see it transform into a butterfly.” Sofia smiled, but Cassidy’s expression was confused. “Other bugs I pick up and let them walk on me while I look at them with my magnifying glass.” She slid the lens out for Cassidy to see. “You can see every detail, their compound eyes and hairy bodies.”
“And then what?”
“I let them go.” Sofia carefully put a lid on the pot containing the caterpillar and lowered it into her bug bag.
“Do you do it with all bugs?” Cassidy’s face twisted. “Even spiders?”
“Oh yes,” Sofia replied. “I love spiders. They’re so beautiful.”
“You let spiders crawl on you?” Cassidy stared at Sofia, aghast. “That’s weird.”
“No it isn’t. It’s natural.”
“Well, if it’s natural, then how come I’ve never met anyone else who does it?”
Sofia shrugged.
A male voice called, “Cassidy, dinner time. CASSIDY? WHERE ARE YOU?”
“That’s my dad.” Cassidy got up. “I’ve got to go. Will you be going to Bracken Heath School on Monday?”
Sofia nodded.
“Me too. See you there,” Cassidy said, as she clambered over the fence and vanished.
“Good morning, children,” Miss Magister said in a high wavering voice.
“Good morning, Miss Magister,” the children chanted back from behind their desks.
“We have a new person joining our class today. Her name is Sofia Elvidge.” Miss Magister put her hand on Sofia’s shoulder and gave her a watery smile. “Welcome, Sofia.” She looked out into the class. “Now, who’s going to volunteer to look after Sofia this week and show her around our school?”
Sofia saw the girl from the alleyway with the monster slippers put her hand up. Her blonde hair was scraped up into a tangled pineapple ponytail, her glasses had tape around one of the arms and her cardigan was buttoned up wrong, hanging off one shoulder to show a paint-splattered school blouse. There was an empty desk beside her.
Miss Magister looked at Cassidy, who had her hand up too. “Ah, Cassidy, thank you, that’s very kind. Sofia, go and sit beside Cassidy. Mark, you can come over here and sit beside Beatrice.”
“Do I have to, miss?” Mark complained as he scraped his chair backwards. “She smells of cabbages.”
Miss Magister gave Sofia a gentle shove towards Cassidy.
Cassidy was looking about her, smiling victoriously. Her red hair was tied back neatly with a royal-blue ribbon and her white school shirt had pretty capped sleeves. She looked perfect.
“Hi.” Sofia smiled as she sat down beside her new friend.
“Don’t get too comfy,” Cassidy whispered. “Mark will want his chair back next week. He’s my boyfriend.”
“Oh, OK.”
During the lesson Sofia didn’t talk to Cassidy, who was preoccupied with writing and passing notes that seemed to be very funny. They were supposed to be answering questions about a book called The Odyssey that everybody except Sofia had read. The characters’ names were strange, and Sofia was confused by the story. Once or twice she looked at Cassidy, hoping for help, but she was teasing Mark for having to sit next to Beatrice Beckett.
When the lunch bell went, Sofia got up in time to see Mark stick his foot out and trip Beatrice as she rose from her desk.
“Oops, clumsy bumble Bea!” Cassidy laughed.
Mark grinned as he came to stand beside Cassidy and they were joined by a girl called Amanda.
Beatrice scrambled to her feet, picking up her glasses from the floor. She looked up at Sofia, who blushed and looked down. She knew she should say something, but it was her first day at school and Cassidy – who appeared to be the most popular girl in the class – seemed to like her. When she looked up, Beatrice had gone.
“Why does your hair look like that?” Amanda asked Sofia.
“Like what?” Sofia put her hand up to the back of her head. Amanda had shiny brown hair in two long plaits.
“Short, like a boy’s. Did you get punished?”
“No. I like it like this,” Sofia explained. “My mum says I look like a pixie.”
Mark snorted. “A boy pixie.”
“C’mon, let’s go to the canteen.” Cassidy hooked her arm through Sofia’s. “I'm starving.”
“Oh, me too.” Sofia smiled with relief at the change of subject.
When they got to the canteen, Cassidy paraded to the front of the dinner queue. “Excuse me, coming through,” she trilled. “Got the new girl here.” Sofia’s face burned as everyone turned to look, but Cassidy loved the attention. She made a great show of getting Sofia a tray and explaining how to choose what you wanted to eat.
“Aren’t you kind, duckie.” A dinner lady smiled at Cassidy.
Sofia felt self-conscious with everyone staring at her. When they sat down to eat, a steady stream of children came over to talk to Cassidy, but they were looking at her.
Amanda pinched Sofia’s arm. “Cassidy says you like creepy-crawlies. Is that true?”
“Oh yes.” Sofia nodded. “I’m a naturalist.”
Mark sprayed his drink all over the table and choked as he laughed. “You walk around in the nude?”
“NO!” Sofia was horrified. “That’s naturists! I’m a naturalist. I study nature.”
“You go outdoors, naked,” Amanda gasped. “And pick up bugs!”
A ripple of whispers travelled across the dinner hall, heads turned and Sofia’s insides burned. “I do not go around naked!” she cried out.
“Guys, people are staring at us.” Cassidy raised an eyebrow.
“Sorry, Cass,” Amanda said.
Sofia looked around the hall. People were pointing at her and giggling. “Now everyone thinks I’m a weird nudist,” she said mournfully.
“I know how to fix this,” Cassidy said brightly. “You can do the Show and Tell on Thursday.”
“Show and Tell?” Sofia said.
“Yes, once a week, two people in the class have to bring in something to do with their hobbies and talk about it in form time. It’s meant to be me and Jack Harrington this week. I was going to do it on ballet but, if you wanted, I could let you go instead of me.”
“How’s that going to help?”
“It will give people a chance to get to know more about you, and,” she lowered her head and whispered, “you can explain that you’re a naturist who likes bugs.”
“But I’m not a naturist; that’s a nudist!” Sofia felt panic fizzing in her chest like a hive of swarming bees. “I’m a naturalist.”
“Exactly.” Cassidy put her arm around Sofia’s shoulder. “I know that, but they don’t.” She gestured to the dinner hall. “You don’t want people thinking you walk around in your birthday suit at weekends, do you?”
Sofia shook her head.
“Good, then it’s agreed.” Cassidy clapped. “I’ll tell Miss Magister you’ll do the Show and Tell in my place.”
“Hey, wait for me,” Sofia called out, running to catch up with Cassidy, Amanda and Mark, who were walking out of the school gate. They couldn’t have heard her, because they didn’t slow or turn around, and were nearly at the end of the road by the time she reached them.
“Oh, it’s you,” Cassidy said, as if she was surprised to see Sofia.
“Did you talk to Miss Magister about the Show and Tell?” Sofia asked, a little out of breath.
“Yes.” Cassidy nodded. “You’re doing it this week.”
“Great,” Sofia replied, glancing at Amanda and Mark, who were looking in any direction but hers. “Thanks.”
They walked along in silence, Amanda, Cassidy and Mark spreading out to fill the pavement so that Sofia had to trip along in the gutter.
“Oh, look,” Sofia called out, pointing at a bush hanging over the pavement in front of them. “What a beautiful cross-orb weaver.”
Amanda, Mark and Cassidy didn’t appear to hear her, and walked on as if she hadn’t made a sound.
Sofia stopped. They were ignoring her! Before she could say anything, Amanda screamed and started leaping about.
“Aaaaarghhhhhh! I walked into a web! Is there a spider on me?” She threw her arms up and shook her head as Cassidy and Mark leapt back. “Is it on me?” she shrieked. “Can you see it?”
Sofia spotted the unfortunate spider clinging on to Amanda’s hair as she bucked and flicked her plaits like a wild horse.
“I can see it,” Sofia said calmly.
“Aaaarrrrghhhhhhhh!” Amanda screamed louder.
“If you stand still, I’ll rescue it.” Sofia stepped forward. “It’s in your hair.”
“Where is it?” Amanda whipped her chestnut braids about in a panic. “Get it off!”
“Stand still,” Sofia ordered, reaching up and cupping her palms under the spider, coaxing it into her hands. She stepped away. “I’ve got it. It’s OK. It’s not hurt.”
Amanda stumbled backwards. “Get away from me!”
“Calm down, Amanda, it’s harmless.” Sofia opened her hands a crack. “Look.”
Amanda screamed.
“Stop it! You’re bullying her.” Cassidy scowled at Sofia. “Look how upset she is. You should apologise.”
“What?” Sofia blinked. “But I took the spider off her, didn’t I? You and Mark were going to run away.”
“We were not!” Cassidy huffed. “She’s lying, Amanda. I’d never leave you.”
“It’s OK to be scared of spiders,” Sofia said. “But if you learned a little about them you’d see that they’re wonderful creatures.”
“I’m not scared of spiders.” Mark lunged forward and shoved Sofia hard. She stumbled backwards, her hands opening to break her fall as she hit the pavement, and the spider dropped to the ground. In a flash, Mark lifted up his foot and stomped on the spider, squashing it dead. “See, I killed it.”
“Oh!” Sofia’s eyes filled with tears. “What did you do that for?”
“Because spiders are gross, and you’re gross.” Mark folded his arms across his chest.
“What kind of a girl likes bugs anyway?” Cassidy said, looking at Sofia with disgust.
“A freak,” Amanda replied with a sneer.
Sofia wanted to shout something mean back, but her throat closed and her vision blurred as she fought with her tears. She didn’t want them to see her cry.
“If you come near us again,” Mark said, “I’ll stamp on you, just like that spider.”
As they walked away, Amanda chanted a limerick.
“There is a girl called Sofia,
so gross you’ll scream if you see her.
She is covered in bugs,
cockroaches, spiders and slugs,
So steer clear of freaky Sofia!”
A tinkling laugh rose from Cassidy.
Sofia wiped her eyes with her sleeve and knelt forward to look at the poor crushed spider. “Poor little spinner,” she sniffed. “You won’t be making any more webs. You’re nothing but bird food now.” She lifted the mangled spider’s body on to the hedge of the neighbouring garden, for a hungry bird to find.
“Do I have to go to Bracken Heath School?” Sofia asked her mum the next morning at breakfast.
“Is there something wrong with the school, Sofia?” Her mum looked concerned. “People say it’s a good one.”
“No, I was just wondering if there was a different school I could go to.” Sofia stared down into her cereal bowl. “You know, if I don’t get along with the other kids.”
Sofia nodded. “I miss Jess.”
“I know you do, but you’ll make friends at Bracken Heath. Just give it some time.”
“What if I don’t?” Sofia looked up. “Can we go home?”
“We are home.” Her mum gave her a worried smile.
Sofia pushed her breakfast away. She wasn’t hungry.
Cassidy, Amanda and Mark were waiting for Sofia at the end of the road. They acted like she was invisible, until she had walked past. Then they followed her.
“Do you think she walks like that because she has ants in her pants?” Cassidy said.
“I bet she had to get all her hair cut off because she lets nits live in it,” Amanda said.
“Her only friends are the bugs, cockroaches, spiders and slugs,” Mark chanted.
Sofia tried to ignore them, and carried on walking as if they weren’t there. On the other side of the road she saw Beatrice Beckett walking to school.
I bet she’s happy they’ve got a new girl to pick on, Sofia thought.
She felt a hand on her back, and a push sent her stumbling forwards.
“Errrrrr,” Amanda squealed. “Don’t touch her! She’s probably got diseases from maggots.”
When she walked through the school gates, Sofia’s heart was heavier than lead. She told herself that she just had to get through the day, one lesson at a time. Cassidy ignored her during class, which wasn’t too bad. At break time, two kids she’d never met threw handfuls of earth at her and ran away. She sat on her own at lunch and overheard Cassidy boasting loudly about how she’d got out of having to do the Show and Tell by tricking the new girl into doing it. Sofia missed Jess and her old home so much her insides ached.
When the school bell rang at the end of the day, Sofia hurried out of the gate, keen to get home before Cassidy, Amanda and Mark could find her, but she heard Amanda’s voice calling to Mark, so she dodged into the front garden of the nearest house, ducking down behind the hedge. As they passed by, Sofia overheard their conversation.
“Did you see where she went?” Mark was asking. “I thought she was in front of us.”
“Maybe her mum picked her up in a car,” Amanda said.
“No, her mum works,” Cassidy replied. “She must have run home, scared.” She laughed nastily.
“I thought I might join in Sofia’s Show and Tell tomorrow,” Amanda said. “I’m going to faint when she starts talking about her disgusting bugs.”
“I don’t understand how she can touch those horrible creepy-crawlies.” Cassidy shivered. “There’s something wrong with her.”
“If she brings bugs into the classroom,” Mark said, “I’m going to kill them all.” Through the hedge, Sofia saw Mark pull a canister from his pocket. “Bug spray.”
They laughed, their voices fading as they walked up the street.
Sofia stayed kneeling on the ground until she was certain they were gone. She shuffled home, her stomach whirling like a black hole as she thought about her Show and Tell tomorrow.
“I’m back,” she called, going straight up the stairs to her bedroom, still filled with unpacked boxes.
“I’m just making dinner, pickle,” her mum called.
Sofia walked into her bedroom, lifted her plastic terrarium off the window ledge and carried it downstairs, out of the back door, through the garden and into the alleyway behind the house. She pulled the lid off.
“Off you go,” she whispered to the tiny invertebrates inside. “Be free. I’m not collecting bugs any more.” She walked back to the house, leaving the terrarium behind.
“Mum, I don’t feel well,” Sofia called out as her mum rushed passed her bedroom doorway, getting ready for work.
“Really? Oh, Sofia.” She came in and put her hand on Sofia’s head. “You’re not hot. What’s wrong?”
“I feel sick,” Sofia lied.
“But you haven’t been sick?”
“No, but I might be.”
“Well, I have to go into work for a meeting. Go to school and if you don’t feel good, go to the nurse and she can call me.”
“Can’t I stay here?” Sofia sank down into the duvet. “I don’t mind if you leave me on my own all day.”
“Sofia, you’re eleven years old. I will not leave you on your own. Anyway, you might feel better once you’re on your feet. Get up and get dressed.” Her mum scurried out of the room, pulling on a shoe.
Sofia sighed and swung her legs out of bed. She wasn’t completely lying. She did feel sick, because today was Show and Tell.
“Right, children, after I’ve taken the register, we’ll move on to today’s Show and Tell,” said Miss Magister.
“Miss, miss!” Jack’s hand went up. “I can’t do my Show and Tell. I forgot my bag.”
“Well, it will just be a ‘tell’ then, won’t it?” Miss Magister looked over her glasses at him.
“But, miss, I was going to do mine on … stamp collecting.”
A giggle zipped around the classroom.
“It would be boring without the actual stamps.” Jack smiled, pleased with himself.
Miss Magister sighed. “Oh, very well, you can do yours next week. Sofia, you’ll have a bit longer to talk about your hobby. Now, I’m going to read the register and I’d like you to say ‘here’ in a nice loud voice when I call your name.”
As the voices rang out, Sofia’s ears filled with buzzing.
“Sofia Elvidge. Sofia Elvidge?”
“Oh, sorry. Here, miss.” Her voice sounded small. She wondered if she was going to faint, and thought that would be good, because then she wouldn’t have to stand up in front of everybody. She closed her eyes and silently told her body to faint. But when she opened her eyes she was still sitting in her chair next to Cassidy.
“Right, now, Sofia, come to the front of the class and set up any props you want to use to show and tell us about your hobby.”
Sofia swallowed. “I – I – I didn’t bring anything,” she whispered, looking at the ground.
“Come now, we’ve had this excuse already, from Jack. Up you come.”
“Don’t worry, Sofia,” Mark called out. “I brought you something.”
Sofia felt something hit her cheek and clatter to the desk. She looked down. It was a dead beetle – a rust-brown chafer.
“Ew!” Cassidy squealed, pushing her chair back. “It’s a cockroach!”
There were three or four gasps and squeals, and more chairs moving away, as Sofia tenderly picked up the beetle.
“Is it alive?” Miss Magister looked nervous.
“Nah, miss, it’s dead.” Mark leered at Sofia. “I killed it with my bug spray.”
“Oh, OK then. Calm down, everybody. Go back to your seats. Yes, Beatrice, what do you want?”
Beatrice was standing at the front of the classroom with a big cloth sack, out of which she pulled a folded-up easel and a board with a picture on it.
“I’m going to do my Show and Tell, miss.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “Everyone else has forgotten their things, but I brought mine.”
“Oh, right. Well, I suppose that’s OK.” Relieved, Miss Magister retreated behind her desk. “Sofia, you can go after Beatrice.”
Everyone had stopped staring at Sofia, and now they watched Beatrice Beckett setting up her easel.
“Today I want to tell you about Maria Sibyl Merian,” Beatrice said. “She was born over three hundred years ago in Germany and she is so important that her face used to be on their money. She was a scientific illustrator.” She pointed at the picture on the easel. “She painted pictures of nature. This is one of her pictures.”
It was a coloured plate torn from an old book. A stag beetle with wings spread wide flew above a plant with flowering white bells. On the leaves were a plump cream larva and a black weevil, and below them hung two green fruit, one hosting a caterpillar, the other attracting a bee.
“Her pictures are so famous that the Tsar of Russia and King George III of England bought them. The reason she is such an important lady is because she started collecting caterpillars at the age of thirteen and was so fascinated by how they changed into butterflies that she learned to paint, to tell their story. She was the first scientist to capture the metamorphosis of insects and she published a book about it, which changed how people looked at invertebrates.” She took a deep breath and continued.
“But also, because all other scientists and artists were men, she wasn’t taken seriously. She sold all her possessions and took her daughter on an expedition to Suriname, to collect and draw the flora and fauna she found there. She was very brave to do this in a time when only men did these things, and people thought her interest in insects strange.” Beatrice looked at Sofia. “She was an adventurer and I think she is wonderful. She is my favourite artist.” She smiled. “Back then, hundreds of years ago, people thought insects weren’t important and that girls weren’t important either, and that girls definitely should not like insects and be studying them or painting them.” Beatrice turned her head and looked Cassidy straight in the eye. “Thank goodness times have changed and we all know what a stupid way of thinking that is.” She turned back to the picture she’d brought with her. “When I grow up I want to be an artist, so I spend as much time as I can painting outside and looking at nature, to get really good, like Maria Merian.” She paused and said in a loud clear voice, “And I think if we want to discover the secrets of life and make something important, we shouldn’t listen to people that tell us what we are supposed or not supposed to do.” Beatrice did a funny bow. “The end.”
Miss Magister clapped and stood up. “Well, that was very interesting, Beatrice, and quite profound.”
Everyone in the classroom applauded, but Sofia most of all.
“Now, Sofia, would you like to come up and tell the class about your hobby.”
“Oh!” Sofia’s hands dropped.
“Is it OK if I help her?” Beatrice asked, bending down and lifting Sofia’s plastic terrarium out of her large cloth bag.
“My bugs!” Sofia was so surprised that she rose from her seat and moved to the front of the class without a thought for the eyes on her. She peered into the terrarium. All her friends were in there – the cricket, the caterpillar munching on the nettle leaf, the woodlice and her babies on a rotting bit of bark, and the violet ground beetle scrambling around in the corner. She was pleased to see them.
“Miss Magister, when I first saw Sofia, she was collecting caterpillars just like Maria Merian,” Beatrice said. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
Sofia turned to face the classroom. “My hobby is that I like to explore the countryside, hunting for different types of invertebrates, and study them to learn about them. Invertebrate means a creature that doesn’t have a spine. Instead they have an exoskeleton – a skeleton on the outside of their body – but they get called bugs, creepy-crawlies or mini-beasts by most people.”
The classroom was silent. Everybody’s eyes were fixed on the terrarium.
“Where I used to live, at the weekends me and my best friend Jess would go out on bug hunts with our butterfly nets, collecting jars, and magnifying glasses. We’d catch different types of insects, bring them home to look at and add into our nature diaries, then set them free. My favourite type of creatures are moths, because they are the funkiest-looking caterpillars. People think moths are ugly, but if you look at them under a microscope they have amazing patterns. They look like tiny hairy muppets with crazy long curly tongues.”
A ripple of laughter disturbed the quiet classroom. Sofia smiled at Beatrice, who smiled back.
“Some people think it’s weird for a girl to like bugs, but there shouldn’t be rules about what girls or boys can like. I hope by looking at insects and learning about nature, I will be able to do good things for the environment when I grow up.”
“In here are lots of invertebrates that Sofia’s captured on bug hunts,” Beatrice said, pointing at Sofia’s terrarium. “Who wants to see?”
And suddenly everyone was out of their desks and crowding round the tank.
“Look, a cricket.”
“Oh, look, teeny-tiny baby woodlice, and they’re white!”
“What’s that on the lavender?”
“It’s a leaf beetle,” Sofia replied. “Sometimes called a rosemary beetle. Isn’t it pretty?” Glancing over the heads of her excited classmates, Sofia saw that the only people still sitting at their desks were Cassidy, Mark and Amanda.
At the end of the day, Sofia waited for Beatrice and they walked home together, one girl carrying a terrarium full of bugs and the other with a cloth bag slung over her shoulder.
“Thanks for saving my terrarium,” Sofia said. “It must have been heavy to bring to school.”
“My mum helped me,” Bea said. “I knew you couldn’t really want to throw it away.”
“Do you think, maybe, you might like to go on a bug hunt with me one weekend?” Sofia asked.
“Oh!” Beatrice flushed pink. “I’d love to. I know this great place by the river where there’s dragonflies, big red ones.”
“There’s a river?”
“Yes, at the other end of Brackenberry Road the footpath at the back of the houses leads to a glade of willow trees beside a river. I’m building a den there. You could help me, if you like?”
Sofia beamed. “I’d like that a lot.”