Diary of a Lottery Winner's Daughter (15 page)

Wednesday 17th November

I couldn’t face the canteen today. I wish I’d thought to take a packed lunch - I figured I’d just go hungry instead.

I’ve been sitting with a group of girls from my form at lunchtimes. They’re friendly and nice, but it’s not the same. And, of course, all they want to talk about is the lottery win and what new things have I got and where am I going on holiday.

It made me realise that the only person who’s never mentioned money or the lottery to me is Annabel. I never see her in the canteen, though, and I wondered where she went at lunch.

I was planning to go and hide in the loos for the rest of the lunchbreak when I caught sight of a poster advertising a lunch club.
Come and get help with your homework, every day 12. 45 -1. 45, Room 122.
Well, it had to be better than

the loos and I supposed I could always get help with my maths homework. Especially after the last lesson when Stacy was fooling around and I hardly heard anything the teacher said.

When I opened the door to Room 122 I would have backed out instantly, only someone came up behind me and I was forced to step into the room. I could feel myself going red. I’d only gone and stepped into Geeksville! It was like someone had rounded up every single misfit in the school and herded them into Room 122.

I was about to turn round and escape when one of the bigger, gangly boys approached me. Before he could say anything, a girl shot in front of him. It was Annabel.

‘It’s okay, Peter,’ she said,’ she’s with me.’

The boy backed off.’Make sure she knows the rules, then,’ he said, going back to join his friends.

Annabel seemed pleased to see me and found me a chair.

‘Couldn’t face the canteen, then?’ she asked. I wondered if she could read minds.

‘What did he mean about rules?’ I looked around but there were no teachers in here.

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ said Annabel. ‘That’s just Peter making sure that the wrong sort don’t get in here and start bothering us.’

I looked at her.’The wrong sort?’ I echoed.

‘Yeah,’ she said matter of factly. ‘The rules are that when you’re in here you must never say anything horrid about anyone, even the people who have been picking on you. The other rule is that you must not talk about the room to anyone who doesn’t use it.’

‘But I thought it was here so you could get help with your homework,’ I said.

Annabel looked a bit disappointed. ‘Did you come in here because you wanted help with homework?’

‘Um . . . No, not really,’ I admitted.

‘Exactly. You came in here because there was someone you wanted to get away from. She Who Shall Not Be Named, or You Know Who.’ Annabel smiled at me. ‘Sorry,’ she said,’ it’s just that when I found out about this room last year I felt like Harry Potter must have felt when he discovered the Room of Requirement.’

I had to smile. That was exactly the kind of thought I liked having but would never have dared to say aloud because people would have laughed at me, or looked at me pityingly.

‘It was exactly what I needed,’ Annabel said,’ a place where I could come and feel safe, where I knew that no one was going to pick on me for one hour in the day.’ Annabel didn’t sound bitter or cross, just really happy. ‘It’s okay,’ she said,’ you’ll be safe in here.’

I felt like I’d entered an alternative universe. One where school wasn’t the place you came to meet your friends and have fun despite the lessons, but one where school was an ordeal, where you tried to get through the day without being noticed and picked on.

The truth was, I felt embarrassed being in the room. I wasn’t the victim of bullying. I had to get out of there. I didn’t want to be associated with ‘the losers’.

Suddenly I felt ashamed of myself. Annabel was really nice, but the truth was I was too embarrassed to be friends with her. I knew that once we left this room the most I would do would be to sit with her in maths and walk up the hill with her. But that was exactly the attitude that had made this room necessary. I also knew that Annabel wouldn’t resent me for not associating with her. That made me feel even more ashamed. I wished I was a stronger person and didn’t worry so much about what other people thought of me. And in a way, what Stacy and Lauren were doing - being mean and ignoring me - was a form of bullying because it made me feel small. And I had come in here to get away from them. But that didn’t make me a loser. I looked around and realised that no one in here was a loser either. It was the people out there who were mean who were the losers.

‘Haven’t you got any lunch?’ said Annabel, looking concerned. ‘I’ve got too much, as usual. Here, have one of my sandwiches.’

I hesitated. I was very hungry. I thought staying for a bit might be okay.

Annabel must have thought I was hesitating out of politeness. ‘Go on,’ she said, passing me her lunchbox. ‘You’ll be doing me a favour.’

We spent the next half hour talking about the books I’d borrowed from Annabel.

‘You should come to the book club,’ she said.

‘I think I will,’ I told her. And then the bell went.

Thursday 18th November

When I got home today I tried on my new clothes to make sure I had everything right for tomorrow.

Spencer came into my room carrying some bin bags.

‘Mum says to put anything you don’t want into these and take them down to the hall. She’s taking them to the Salvation Army tomorrow.’

I still had a load of stuff I’d brought from my old room which I didn’t want any more.

Looking at Spencer standing there in his combat trousers and sweatshirt I thought how much easier it is for boys. No one seems to pay any attention to what they wear. Mostly,
they
don’t even pay any attention to what they wear. They are so lucky.

I sorted through all my toys that I’d grown out of. It was hard getting rid of some of the soft toys and I kept some of them. Trevor, my bear, was in my bed as usual. I’d never get rid of him.

The first thing to go into the bin bag was a horrid head thing. I think it was for girls to practise doing hairstyles and make-up on. I couldn’t remember ever doing those things with it. I think Spencer and I used to use it for target practice. Next, in went all my old Barbie dolls. Lauren and I had spent hours playing with them. I picked up Barbie Princess and straightened out her skirt. I was pretty sure that this one actually belonged to Lauren. I wondered if she’d want it back. Perhaps I could use it as an excuse to round and see her. I don’t want to admit it, but I miss her. I know she’s been really horrible to me and I still feel furious at the thought that she wouldn’t even listen to my side of the story. I blame Stacy more than Lauren though. It’s like Stacy is some evil fairy who’s cast a spell of enchantment over Lauren. All I have to do is work out how to break the spell. I pictured myself turning up at Lauren’s house with the Barbie doll. She’d think I was mental. Or worse, Stacy would be there and I’d never hear the end of it - about how I still liked to play with Barbie dolls! It would be all over the school in no time. I thrust the Princess Barbie into the bottom of the bag then picked it up and took it downstairs to the hall.

There was already a collection of bags by the front door. From the look of them, Spencer and Chelsea had been doing the same thing. I thought about going through Spencer’s bag to see if there were any of his old clothes I could have. But then I decided not to because I have a completely new image now.

And that’s when I had a brilliant idea. If I could get Annabel to look a bit more trendy, maybe people wouldn’t pick on her so much or write her off as a hopeless geek. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? It was so simple. I could hardly take her shopping, though, and buy her a load of new clothes. She’d think I was showing off or trying to buy her friendship or something. Like Lauren thought I’d done with Stacy.

I could see Chelsea’s old uniform poking out the top of one of the bin bags. It would be about Annabel’s size. School rules say that skirts are meant to be no more than three centimetres above the knee but no one takes any notice and we roll them up at the waistband - in Chelsea’s case to about one centimetre below her bum. But even if Annabel doesn’t roll it up, Chelsea’s old skirt will still be shorter than the one she wears at the moment. I took it out and folded it neatly then put it into a couple of carrier bags. I found Mum in the kitchen.

‘I’m just going to see Annabel. I won’t be long,’ I told her.

I was so excited I practically ran all the way to Annabel’s house. Which is why, when I got there and rang the bell, I could hardly speak when Annabel opened the door. I thrust the bags towards her.

‘What’s this?’ she said. She was wearing an apron and was obviously in the middle of cooking tea. I realised that I hadn’t really thought about what I was going to say.

‘Um . . . Chelsea was throwing out her old school uniform and I wondered if you wanted it.’

‘I see,’ she said. ‘Why would I want your sister’s old school uniform?’

‘Well, I just thought . . .’ What could I say? That I could tell her she looked awful in hers? ‘I thought . . . ‘

‘You thought that because my mum’s in a wheelchair that we’re some sort of charity case?’ She didn’t look at all happy. She was holding a wooden spoon and she started waving it at me. ‘Well, we don’t want or need your charity. My mum has a very good job as an accountant and we don’t need your cast-offs, thanks very much.’

That’s right. She thought I was giving her the clothes because I thought she was hard up. I had to explain - I wasn’t going to have someone else misunderstanding my motives.

‘No, it’s not about the money. I didn’t think you needed them because of that. It’s just that I thought if you looked . . . you know . . . I thought if you looked less . . . well, less like you do, then people might stop picking on you.’

Perhaps I hadn’t explained that well enough to not insult her or anything. From the look on her face I didn’t think I had. She looked like she was going to hit me with the spoon.

‘Who is it, love?’ Annabel’s mum called from the sitting room.

Annabel glared at me. ‘No one,’ she called back. Absolutely no one,’ she said again for my benefit.

I was still holding the bags up. I lowered them slowly.

‘I thought you were different,’ she said to me. ‘I thought things like clothes and what people looked like didn’t matter to you.’ She was looking me up and down and I realised I had my new outfit on. ‘Well, I can see that I was wrong. I’m sorry if you’re too ashamed of me to be my friend. You don’t want me to have these clothes because you think it will stop people laughing at me. You want me to wear them so that you’re not too embarrassed to be seen with me! So that people won’t laugh at
you
for being my friend.’

‘No, that’s not it at all . . . ‘ I said desperately.

‘If you think I’m going to change just so that you won’t be too embarrassed to be seen with me then you’re sadly mistaken. I
like
the way I am, okay? Now, if you don’t mind, I’m busy.’And she shut the door in my face.

I managed to get home, dump the bags back in the hall and make it up to my room before I started crying.