Cos she is pretty, in spite of being pale. I was used to being the prettiest one! I always was, in Juniors. I am not saying this to boast; it just happens to be true. Like Hattie was always the cleverest, and Janice McNiece was the best at games. There is no point in denying these things, you have to accept them. What I couldn’t accept was that some people might think Tanya Hoskins was as pretty as I was. Not prettier; no one could have said she was prettier. But as pretty. Oh, this is so hateful! This is what I mean about being ashamed. But I am trying very hard to face up to myself and be truthful. I’m just telling it like it was.
Like it was: I couldn’t bear the thought of Tanya being selected for the Founder’s Day Dinner and Dance and not me!
There: I said it. That is how petty I was. Of course, I didn’t tell Hattie. What I told Hattie was that I really really really really wanted to be selected, “Just to show Mum.”
Hattie said, “Really?” I said, “Really, really!”
“Dunno how you’re going to swing that,” said Hattie. Neither did I; that was the problem. The Dinner and Dance is a big thing at our school, Dame Elizabeth’s. It only happens once every five years, and only a handful of people are selected from each year group, usually five boys and five girls. The way they’re chosen is strictly on merit marks – which I didn’t happen to have any of. Well, I think I’d picked up about four in the whole of my first year. Hattie, needless to say, got them by the bucket load. Mainly academic ones, since Hattie just happens to have this mega-size brain. Tanya Hoskins has a brain of more ordinary proportions, but she is one of those irritating people who applies herself. (A term much favoured by teachers, at our school at any rate. I always got end-of-term reports saying that I did not apply myself.)
“So how do you think you’re going to do it?” said Hattie. She is always very down to earth. Not to mention blunt.
I said hopefully, “I could try mending my ways.”
“Well, you could,” said Hattie. “But there’s an awful lot of them to mend!”
I begged her not to be so negative. “You’re supposed to be helping me!”
“Why?” said Hattie.
“Because you’re my friend! And we do things together. How could you possibly go without me?”
“What makes you think I will be going?” said Hattie.
I told her that she was bound to be selected. “You and Tanya; you’ll both be selected. You know you will!”
“I don’t know anything,” said Hattie. “And if you want to go as badly as all that, why not wait for one of the boys to invite you? Cos you know that they will!”
She meant one of the boys who got selected. I said, “I want to be the one to do the inviting! Plus there isn’t a single solitary boy that I’d want to go with. Not in our year, at any rate.”
“So who would you invite?”
I said, “I don’t know! I’ll think about that later. What’s important is being selected. And that’s what I need your help for!”
“Don’t see what I’m s’pposed to do,” said Hattie; but she agreed, in the end, to give me the benefit of her advice. “Provided you listen.”
“I will, I will!” I said. “Look at me … I’m listening!”
“Right, then,” said Hattie. “Let’s get started. Let’s make a list!”
I said, “List of what?”
“All those areas where you need to improve! Get a pen. Write it down!”
Meekly, I did so. “Improvements”, I wrote.
No.1 Work
No.2 Behaviour
No.3 Attitude
No.4 Punctuality
No.5 Team spirit.
Somewhat daunting, I think you will agree!
“Let’s take them one by one,” said Hattie. She has this very orderly sort of mind. “Work. If you just started to do some, it would help.”
“I will,” I said, earnestly.
“You’ve got a brain,” said Hattie, “why not use it?”
I told her that she sounded like my mum.
“I’m going to act like your mum,” said Hattie. “I’m going to tell you what to do and you’re going to do it … cos if you don’t, then that is it. I shall wash my hands of you.”
“Oh, no, please,” I said. “Please, Hattie, don’t!”
“It’s entirely up to you,” said Hattie. “What’s next? Behaviour. Well, that’s easy enough! Just stop getting told off all the time. Attitude— ”
“Yes,” I said, anxiously, “what does that mean?”
“It means co-operating,” said Hattie. “Like, you know … shutting up when you’re told to shut up? Walking down the corridor when you’re told to walk down the corridor? Not barging and yelling and— ”
“I don’t do that!” I said.
Hattie looked at me, rather hard.
“Well, yes, all right,” I said. “I get the message. What about punctuality? I can manage punctuality! At least I can if Dad leaves on time. He doesn’t always leave on time.”
“So go by train,” said Hattie.
The train meant getting up earlier, but I knew if I said that she would just tell me not to be lazy and that “nothing comes without a struggle”. And I really really did want to be selected! I mean, apart from anything else, it was a matter of pride.
Humbly, I said, “What about team spirit? I don’t quite get that one.”
Hattie said that team spirit meant joining things. Volunteering for things. Trying out for netball teams and hockey teams. I stared at her, appalled.
“You don’t do any of that!”
“I’m in the choir,” said Hattie.
I wouldn’t have minded being in the choir. Unfortunately, I can’t sing. Tanya can, of course: very gently and sweetly. She always gets to do the solos when it’s anything holy. Hattie has a voice like a bullhorn. She really belts it out! I would love to have a voice like Hattie’s.
