Mollie Cinnamon Is Not a Cupcake (8 page)

After lunch we have science with Miss McKennedy. We have to go outside to take more soil samples – yawn. I lag behind the class, willing this horrible day to be over.

Lauren drops back to join me. “You think you’re better than everyone, don’t you, Wormie? The cool Dublin girl with the cool clothes and the cool mum on the telly. Funny, isn’t it, that your mum presents a travel show? She can’t be very bright, getting Norway and Italy muddled up like that. She’ll probably get lost.” She makes her voice all giggly and breathless. “Ooh, I’m in Paris. Look at the lovely Eiffel Tower. Oopsy! Sorry, it’s actually the Spire in Dublin. Silly me.”

“My mum is filming in Sydney right now,” I say angrily. “And she managed to get there just fine. Keep your mouth shut in future. And stop calling me Wormie.”

“Or what?” Lauren shoves me backwards, hard. I grab at her to stop myself from falling, but instead I manage to pull her down with me. I land on my bum, but she lands on her side and her cheek hits the ground. She gives an almighty wail.

“Miss! Miss! Mollie pushed me!” she yells. “I think she’s broken my cheekbone. It hurts. Ow! Ow! Ow!”

“You pushed me,” I say. “You’re such a big fat liar.”

Miss McKennedy is standing in front of us, her face purple with rage. “What on earth is going on? Get up, both of you.”

Everyone is staring at me like I’m some sort of alien.

“She pushed me, Miss,” Lauren wails. “I think I’m bleeding.”

Miss McKennedy studies Lauren’s cheek. It’s flaming red, but there’s no blood. “You’re not bleeding, Lauren,” she says. “Please stop wailing. Chloe, take Lauren to see the school nurse for an ice pack. Mollie Cinnamon, I’m taking you straight to the head’s office, young lady. And I don’t want to hear a peep out of you until we get there. Understand? Violence will not be tolerated at Bethlehem Heights.”

“But that’s so unfair, Miss,” I protest. “Lauren started it. She said things about my mum and then
she
pushed
me
!”

“Not another word, Mollie. I mean it.”

Miss McKennedy marches me up the corridor, holding me by the arm. She has quite a grip. I can’t believe I’m the one in trouble. This is all so wrong. Lauren’s the biggest liar ever. She should be here, not me.

Miss McKennedy and the head teacher, Mrs Joseph, talk for a few minutes while I sit outside the office, my heart pounding. The school secretary gives me a few stern looks but otherwise ignores me.

Then the door opens and Mrs Joseph says, “Mollie, into my office, please.”

My hands are shaking with nerves and my breath is catching in my throat. I feel like everything is brighter, louder, more intense. Mrs Joseph dismisses Miss McKennedy and shuts the door behind us, indicating where I should sit.

Mrs Joseph is wearing a red wrap dress, glasses with thick black frames and a frown you could plant potatoes in. She sits down behind a large mahogany desk, leans her elbows on the top and folds her hands together.

“This is a very bad start to your time at Bethlehem Heights, Mollie,” she says. “Your great-grandmother will be very disappointed in you. I know girls can often say unkind things to each other, but you must come and tell us if that happens, not take matters into your own hands. We don’t tolerate any kind of physical violence or bullying here.”

Me? I’m not the bully! Before I can stop myself, I give a shocked laugh.

“Wipe that smile off your face, Mollie Cinnamon,” she snaps. “This is no laughing matter. I’ve phoned the nurse and she says Lauren will be fine, but her cheek is badly bruised. Count yourself lucky you didn’t give her concussion or worse. Now, this is something we must take very seriously indeed. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

I sit there, my mind racing. I could try to explain what really happened, but no one’s going to believe me.

When I don’t respond, she goes on, “Why did you push Lauren? Did she say something to you?”

Lauren is such a good liar she’s managed to turn everyone against me, even Bonny. No one will believe anything I say. I’ve had enough of Lauren and everyone at Bethlehem Heights, so I simply say, “I don’t know.”

Mrs Joseph looks at me for a second, then sighs and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Mollie, but in that case I have no choice. You’re suspended.”

I get the early ferry back to the island, which is a relief. Before I left school, I talked to Nan briefly on the phone and she sounded shocked and upset.

“We’ll go over this properly when you get home,” she said. “I’ve spoken to Mrs Joseph and we’ve agreed that a week’s suspension is appropriate. And obviously you’ll have to apologize to Lauren.”

During the whole journey back, I feel like a rubber band that’s been stretched and stretched to the limit. It’s so unfair because I’m not a bully! This is all Lauren’s fault.

When we reach Little Bird, Nan is waiting for me at the harbour wall. Her face is rigid, like stone. I feel sick. Maybe she’ll send me away. And if Flora can’t come back for me, what will happen? Will I have to stay in a children’s home or with a foster family or something?

Once again I linger in the cabin until everyone else has got off.

“You all right, Mollie?” Mattie asks, sticking her head through the doorway. “Time to get off now.”

I press my lips together and nod. But I’m not all right at all.

Mattie lowers her voice. “I’ve heard what Lauren’s been saying to you on the ferry and it’s not right. I’m not surprised you snapped.” I must look confused because she adds, “I didn’t like to say anything when you got on the ferry, but I’m afraid everyone knows about what happened at school. Lauren rang her mum from the nurse’s office and news spreads fast on the island.” She smiles at me reassuringly. “Not everyone is taken in by Lauren Cotter. Just tell Nan the truth.”

My stomach is turning nervous somersaults as I step off the ferry and walk towards Nan. But when I reach her, she just sighs.

“Oh, Mollie, what am I going to do with you?” she says. “I need a strong coffee. Let’s grab a drink at Alanna’s before we head home and sort out all this mess.”

“OK,” I reply. Delaying things sounds like a good idea.

“Hi, Nan. Hi, Mollie,” Alanna greets us as we walk into the cafe. “What can I get you both? Your usual?”

Nan nods. “Thanks, Alanna.”

I can tell Alanna knows about the Lauren incident from the gentle smile she gives me. Mattie was right – news travels fast on Little Bird. My eyes start to sting with tears. Everyone must think I’m a terrible person. And I still can’t believe Lauren said such horrible things about Flora. I know Flora can be a bit ditzy sometimes, but she’s my mum. And she’s funny and smart in her own way. She’s also brilliant with people. “Flora, you could charm the bees.” That’s what Granny Ellen always told her.

“Don’t look so frightened, child. I’m not going to eat you,” Nan says. “I want you to tell me exactly what Lauren has been up to. I know a lot of people think that butter wouldn’t melt in that girl’s mouth, but I’m certainly not one of them and neither is Alanna. Mrs Joseph told me Lauren’s side of the story. Now I want to hear your side.”

“You’re not sending me away?”

“Of course not! Is that what you’ve been thinking? Mollie, we’re family, and family sticks together. No matter how near your cloak is, your flesh is always nearer.”

Granny Ellen used to say that too. She said it was one of Red Moll’s expressions. I’m so relieved that hot tears start to roll down my cheeks. I wipe them away, embarrassed. I hate people seeing me cry.

“Lauren was saying horrible things about Flora,” I say in a rush. “I told her to stop and she pushed me. I grabbed her to stop myself falling and pulled her down too. And then she lied to everyone about what had happened. It wasn’t my fault, you have to believe me.”

“I do believe you, child. Come here.” Nan gives me a big hug. And for the first time, I let her hold me, although I don’t hug her back. She smells of baking and flowery perfume. It reminds me of Granny Ellen. It’s like coming home.

“Lauren’s the one who was nasty about your hair, isn’t she?” Nan asks after a moment.

“Yes. And she said you didn’t want me here. That no one wants me.”

“Well, she couldn’t be more wrong about that. I love you, Mollie. Of course I want you here.” Nan pulls back a bit and looks at me. “From now on, if Lauren says anything unkind, come straight to me. Understand? I’d like to give her a piece of my mind. Her mother too.”

“Don’t, Nan, please. I can look after myself.”

“You’re just like my Ellen, and Red Moll before her, trying to battle the whole world by yourself. You don’t have to fight alone, Mollie. Even Red Moll had supporters. We may not be a whole army, but you have me, and Alanna too. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Lauren can tell all the lies she wants,” Nan says. “We’re on your side, no matter what.” She pulls me towards her again and squeezes me tight. This time I hug her back.

“Do I have to go back to that school?” I ask once I’ve pulled away. “Lauren’s turned everyone against me and I don’t have any friends. Even Bonny hates me. Can’t I stay here with you instead?”

Nan brushes a curl off my face. “And do what, child?”

“My schoolwork. I have most of my textbooks with me. I could do essays and stuff until Flora’s back.”

Nan thinks for a second. “I suppose it might work. Let me talk to your school in Dublin and see what they think. And I’ll need to discuss it with your mum, of course.”

“Thanks, Nan.” I’m starting to feel a little brighter. Nan really does want me with her after all.

“And, Mollie, one last thing. I don’t care what Mrs Joseph said − there’s no way you’re apologizing to Lauren. Just keep out of her way, understand?”

“Got it.” There’s no way I’m going anywhere near Lauren Cotter and her poisonous tongue ever again.

The thing about not going to school is that routine goes out of the window. Personally I think that’s a good thing – routine is so boring – but Nan doesn’t see it that way. She’s not impressed with all my lie-ins. I’ve had no problem with bad dreams since Alanna gave me that herbal remedy. I’ve been putting a few drops on my pillow every night and sleeping like a baby.

At ten on Thursday morning Nan marches into my room and whips open the curtains.

“Wakey-wakey, sleepy head,” she says. “That’s quite enough lazing around for you.”

I groan. “Go away, Nan. Just give me a few more minutes.”

“That’s what you said at eight o’clock and again at nine. You had a day off yesterday and now it’s time to get moving. Hard work and good care take the head off bad luck.”

I sit up and rub my eyes. Hard work and good what? Nan’s sayings make no sense when you’ve just woken up. “Nan, can I have one more day off, please? I’m tired.”

“You’re twelve, Mollie. How can you be tired? Now come on − rise and shine. I have a heap of chores for you. And on Monday you’ll be back to normal school hours. So there’ll be no more lying-in during the week.”

Nan talked to my school in Dublin yesterday. Most of my teachers agreed to email me work to do at home so that I won’t fall behind. Flora was a little harder to get hold of. She wasn’t answering her mobile, so Nan had to ring the production company in Dublin and they managed to track her down via Lucas, the cameraman, the only one of the team who actually answered his phone. She finally got to talk to Flora yesterday evening, and now it’s official − I can study at Nan’s house until Flora comes back to get me.

I’m so happy, but I hadn’t realized I’d still have to get up early. “Great,” I mutter, disappointed at the thought of no more lie-ins.

“You can always go back to Bethlehem Heights if you like.”

“No way! Thanks for arranging everything, Nan.”

“You’re welcome, child. It will be nice to have you around the place more. But it’s not an excuse to mess around, OK?”

“I know.”

“Good. Now, get yourself dressed and we’ll talk about the extra bits you’re going to do every day in lieu of sports and things like that. Mollie, welcome to the world of work.”

I stare at her. “I can’t work. It’s illegal − I’m too young. You’ll get arrested or something.”

Nan chuckles. “In case you haven’t noticed, there are no guards on the island. And a few chores never killed anyone. Now come on − the worms are waiting to be fed. That’s number one on your job list.”

After breakfast and feeding the worms – and, boy, do the rotting banana skins and potato peelings stink – Nan makes me sit down at the kitchen table and read the list she and Alanna have put together of things I can do on top of my schoolwork:

“Do I really have to keep a diary?” I ask. “I hate writing essays.”

“What would you suggest doing instead?”

“I could watch movies and review them?”

Nan shakes her head and smiles. “Nice try, Mollie. But your movie suggestion gives me an idea. Wait there.”

She comes back a few minutes later holding a small box, which she hands to me. Inside is a camera. It looks a few years old, but it’s a good one.

“I promised you could use this, remember?” she says. “If you stay on top of all your English assignments, you can make a video diary instead of a written one.”

“A video diary sounds OK,” I say, still studying the camera. “It’s actually called a vlog.” In fact, I’m itching to get started. I’ve always wanted a good camera, but Flora won’t buy me one. She says they’re too expensive and that I’ll only drop it.

“Good. The camera’s all yours. Now go on, have a play with it. There’s no time like the present. The island awaits.”

I turn the camera over carefully in my hands. For something so compact, it’s surprisingly heavy. “Thanks, Nan,” I say. “Oscars, here I come.”

I pack my rucksack with some essentials − notebook, pen, water − and throw it over my shoulder. Nan gave me the notebook. It’s a small black one with an elastic band around it to keep it shut. She said it was called a Moleskine notebook and that lots of creative people like writers and film-makers use them.