Take My Word for It (9 page)

We play Crusaders at basketball on Saturday, and they're the top team, so it must be an omen. Maybe we should dress like the Turks. I don't think it'll help though.

Sophie and I both got in ‘Flowers for Algernon', but I've got what must be the smallest part. I say one line: ‘Doctor, may I change the bed?' Well, it'll be fun anyway. I'm just glad to be in it. Soph's surprised everyone by scoring quite a good role—she's a girl called Gina, who's a real tumper, rough as guts. Miss Knight-Fox is producing it—I think she likes Soph.

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UNE
9

Soph's got this stupid new saying, where every time she gets criticised for any little thing she says, ‘Oh, sorry, I'll slash my wrists.' She said it this morning when Ann got mad at her for spilling her shampoo; she said it in Maths when she'd forgotten to bring Rikki's calculator; she said it at supper when I realised she'd drunk all the milk. It's so annoying. It's not even funny.

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UNE
11

Dad and Lynette actually visited today. I'm surprised Dad knew where the school was. The first thing I noticed is how he's trying to look all young again for Lynette. He was wearing these trendy Spike clothes and his new glasses and, I couldn't believe this, he's had the BM sprayed black. I mean, honestly. I was just glad none of my friends were around. I suppose he and Lynette looked all right together in a way, 'cos she does dress well—people notice her. She's quite stunning-looking really—she's got this short haircut and she's tall and she was wearing a great Zodiac silver jacket.

I thought she'd be all sickly nice again, but she wasn't. She was friendly but kept her distance. Maybe she was waiting to see what I'd be like. No-one mentioned the letter—I certainly wasn't going to bring it up. Maybe I'll write her an answer one day.

I showed her round the school, with Dad of course, and she didn't say anything too dumb, except for asking Miss Curzon if she was a prefect. I don't know, maybe Miss Curzon was flattered.

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UNE
12

Glory be, we're having a Year 9 dance! This is the biggest miracle in 2000 years. Mrs Graham announced it at Roll Call—the words were squeezed out of her like juice out of a peanut. You could tell it wasn't her idea. I've been here a year and a half and this is the first time anything like this has happened. It's four schools—boys from St Patrick's (Emma's happy) and St Luke's, girls from Girls' Grammar and Warrington. At least it's not Walford College, so I won't be seeing good old Pete. But no doubt Huw'll be there. Oh well, I'll survive.

We're even getting a band—Mrs Graham didn't know who, needless to say. Wonder if Genetic Defects are free that night? If it was left to Mrs Graham we'd have the 2nd Mt Sandon Boy Scout Tin-Whistle Orchestra.

Cathy and I did Marina's hair tonight, or as much as she'd let us. It was like trying to touch a wild deer. But we brushed it out and cut it a bit shorter. She wouldn't let us touch the fringe, which I think's too long, but I can understand why she might want it that way. She has got nice hair, though. It's frustrating that she won't let us do much with it.

Soph and Emma have got a craze for aerobics at the moment and every night they do all these exercises. They do them just before lights out and it always ends in a mess: they beg the teacher not to put the lights out till they've finished, and the teacher gets impatient and makes them get into bed, then two minutes later they're out of bed and doing them in the dark, then the teacher comes in and catches them and sends them downstairs. Almost every night that happens. Anyway, they're doing them at the moment during Prep. Emma's doing snapbacks and chanting, ‘I must, I must, increase my bust.' Good luck Em. She'll get caught sooner or later.

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UNE
13

Oh, Mr Lindell, there is so much I didn't know before this Crusades assignment. Did you know the first Crusade was led by a couple of beggars? (They got wiped out.) Did you know Richard the Lion Heart was a pretty slack King? Did you know Robin Hood mightn't even have existed? Did you know the Christians used pictures of Saracen horses pooing in the Holy Sepulchre to get the other Christians mad?

They all died in the worst ways. King John ate too many peaches and drank too much new cider. Barbarossa drowned because he went swimming straight after a meal. King Richard got shot in the shoulder and died of gangrene after they cut the arrow out. The guy who shot him was flayed alive. That is really utterly absolutely disgusting. It wasn't his fault—he was only doing his job.

I still don't like the Crusades much. I'm sick of them. There's nothing that interesting about them.

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UNE
15

I hate assignments. I hate tests. I hate the Crusades. I hate Prep. I hate History. I hate Science. I hate French. I hate Divinity. I hate Chapel. I hate School food. I hate boarding. I hate all the stupid rules and regulations. I hate Mrs Graham. I hate Dr Thorley. I hate Mr Hardcastle. I hate Matron. I hate the way the school doctor makes you take off all your clothes when you're only there for a sore toe. I hate the kind of music Kate plays at full volume every chance she gets. I hate the way Sophie spits all the time. I hate how fat and disgustingly ugly I am. I hate the way the seniors keep pushing you off the phone. I hate the way even the dogs are kept on chains all the time in this school, and any time a stray comes on campus and all the kids start feeding it and looking after it Matron calls the Pound straight away. I hate it how the Year 11s and 12s never talk to you and treat you like dirt. I hate the way everyone here dresses the same, and anyone who dresses differently is treated like she's infectious. I hate how Ann makes herself vomit so she can get out of basketball practice. I hate myself for being so vague (I took a shower tonight with my headphones still on). I hate the way my parents never take me out on weekends. I hate it how Mum and Dad never tell you what's going on and when you ask they just say ‘nothing' or tell you something that's about one-tenth of the real story and sounds harmless. I hate this feeling of endlessly going through the same jumble over and over again, in my mind and my life. I feel like I'll never get anywhere till I sort it all out. I hate what I nearly did just over a year ago. I feel like it's a big dark shadow inside me that I'll never get rid of. I hate wasting so much time writing in this Journal when I could be doing something useful. I hate how slack our basketball team is. I hate how Marina never talks. How can she hope to get anywhere if she won't talk about it? I hate the way I've written all this ugly stuff. I hate how I've sat here all night and got nothing done.

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UNE
16

God I really started something tonight. I wrote a whole lot of questions to Marina—one by one—and she kept answering them, so I just kept on going. I hope I did the right thing. She ended up crying and crying like no-one I've ever seen before. She seems OK now. I hope that Mrs Graham doesn't find out. I think I put my foot in it, my whole leg maybe.

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UNE
20

We had the debate tonight, after two postponements. We don't seem to have improved much—we lost again, to MLC. They had Caroline Barber as their first speaker—the Barbers were our neighbours at ‘Connewarre'. It was good to see her. She asked me to come and stay in the August holidays, but I don't know. I don't know if I can stand to see ‘Conne' all run down and with someone else owning it.

Anyway, the debate. Cathy went first and talked about the human things—that was our plan—like family and friends. I went second and did the other stuff—like mountains and sunsets and stars. Sarah was third, and she did mainly rebuttal, plus she talked about how even pain was good because you can't experience the bliss until you've had some bad times to compare it to. I thought we did OK, and some of the audience said we were ripped off, but they're probably a bit biased.

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UNE
21

Roll on mid-term. Dad rang tonight to say he'd pick me up from here on the Tuesday to go straight to the snow. Chloe's getting a lift up with the Kinrosses.

I've been thinking some more about asking Mr Lindell to read this Journal and I don't think I will. There's too much in it that I wouldn't want him to read—too much personal stuff. I'm scared they'd send me to a shrink if they knew everything. I might let Cathy or someone read it instead.

Sometimes I think I ought to go to see the School Counsellor, see if she can sort out my complicated life. I don't even know her name, but she's meant to be good. Marina practically lives there.

Speaking of Marina, I've been watching her the last few days—since Friday night really. She seems OK, kind of strained, but that's nothing new. Everyone's got the flu anyway, except me. I refuse to get it. Marina is going to Cathy's for mid-term—if she doesn't enjoy that she'll be hard to please.

Kate and Soph and Trace have got some outrageous plan to take an illegal this weekend and go skiing. They're mad, but knowing them they'll probably get away with it. They get away with so much. They want to go with Lisa Chen and Susannah Scotland—should be wild.

Apparently it hasn't stopped snowing for about five days. I'd love to go but I suppose I'll be boring and stay here and finish my Crusades assignment.

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UNE
22

What is going on? Chloe reckons Mum'll get married too, to some bloke I've never heard of. I don't know if Chloe knows what she's talking about or not. It's just hopeless. Everyone's trying to get out of basketball again—there were eight people with notes at training. What a day.

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UNE
23

Some sloppy smelly heap of meadow mayonnaise has kleptoed nearly all of my Crusades assignment. I can't believe it. I'm too mad to cry. If I find out who did it I'll give them what the guy who killed King Richard got. Why are some people such utter complete skid-marks? All they left was the Bibliography and the Title Page and one map—don't know why they bothered to leave that even. Maybe I should thank them for leaving it. As it is I went so sick in Prep that I think I've scared them all into silence. Marina looked like she was going to dive under her desk.

I went to see Mrs Graham. She was quite good actually, but I know there's not much she can do. She said people take them because they don't like someone, so they want her to bomb out; or they take them so they can copy and improve their own marks. In the first case, she said, you never catch them because they trash the stuff straight away. In the second case, you can catch them if you see something in their assignment that you recognise as yours, like a sentence in an essay, or a drawing—but she said it's pretty rare.

I wonder if there are people around here who hate me enough to take my assignment just to get me into trouble. Emma went off at me the other night—well at a few of us actually—but I don't think she'd do something like that. I don't think anyone in this dorm would. I figure it's someone from another dorm, although it'd be hard for them to get in and out of here without being seen.

The thing is, I spent so many hours on that thing. There's been a kind of Crusades mania round here the last week or so. People have been getting up at five in the morning to do more work, or sneaking back downstairs after lights-out. I've done quite a bit under my doona with a torch, and last night Cathy and I did some in the Drying Room till after midnight.

I just choke up with anger when I think about it.

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UNE
26

Handed in what I could of the Crusades assignment. I did two essays over the weekend and one of the maps again and some of the pictures, so in the end I still had a lot less than half. I don't know what'll happen about my mark. Apparently two other people got theirs ripped off too. Dr Whiteley came into our Morning Assembly and made a speech about how disgusting it was and how she wants them returned. Maybe they will be, but I doubt it.

At least I've got plenty of witnesses to the work I did.

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UNE
27

It's a madhouse here again tonight folks. K, S and T have been busted wide open for last weekend's illegal. Every five minutes another message comes for one of them to go see Mrs Graham, while the other two sit here white-faced. They think they'll be expelled, and I guess there is a chance of that. They are crazy. They play with hand grenades all year long and then they're upset when one of them finally goes off. But they're still getting the giggles every few minutes, even now. What a bunch.

Mrs Graham's interrogation technique is to keep calling you in one by one and checking the stories against each other till she finds a contradiction. Then she goes for the throat. She takes notes while you answer, which helps put you off more. Also she bluffs a lot. Last year there was a ginormous powder/deodorant/moisturiser/toothpaste/shampoo fight in the dorm, right at the end of Prep. I missed it by seconds, because I'd been in the library and was still coming back. But Mrs Graham was convinced I'd been in it and she said Miss Curzon had seen me there, which she couldn't have, and when I asked Miss Curzon she said she'd never said that at all. Talk about getting framed.

Apparently the Housemistress before Mrs Graham was even worse—she had a Breathalyser and she used it to test anyone who'd been out on Exeat. It's hard to believe, but Skye Wills swears it's true. I mean, that is sick.

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UNE
28