Not Pretty Enough (6 page)

CHAPTER 12

The last week of term is always a fun week. It’s like
everything fun that we’re allowed to do is packed into one week in the middle
of July. Most of the lessons are just free periods; even the teachers have
realised that there’s no point in giving out homework, because nobody is going
to do it, and in September when we get back to school, all the classes
rearrange and we will probably end up with different teachers anyway.

Tomorrow is the school trip.
Nobody really likes the trips in this school, partly because they remind us too
much of primary school, and partly because they’re a bit rubbish and we go to
the same place every year.

Summerville Park.

It’s a theme park. It’s okay if
you like fairground rides.

I don’t.

Last year Debs and I found a
picnic bench and sunbathed on it all day.

This year we intend to do the
same.

At least, until we get on the
coach and Ewan asks if we want to hang around with his group. The condition of
the teachers leaving us alone on these school trips is that we stay in groups
of at least three people and don’t wander off alone. I happen to know that
Ewan’s group includes himself, Cole, Darren, and Lloyd. It’s not that I don’t
want to hang around with Lloyd Layton. It’s just that I’m not sure Summerville
Park is the best place to do so. It’s just a wild guess, but I bet Lloyd Layton
is as into death defying rides as he is into sports and cars. I bet he wants to
go on everything. Even that scary looking thing that drops you three hundred
feet on a piece of string.

Debs is about to say
thanks but we’ll go around with Ceri and do the more sane
things like look at fish in the aquarium
, when I butt in and announce,
“Sure, we’d love to.”

“We would?” Debs hisses at me.

“Look,” I say when Ewan has gone
back to his own seat. “In five days time, I’m not going to see Lloyd for six
whole weeks. I have to make some sort of effort here. I don’t want him to
forget about me over the summer holidays.”

“I don’t think anyone could
forget about you, Chess.”

I’m not sure whether I should
take that as a compliment or not. “What harm can it do? At least we’ll have
something pretty to look at.”

“Funny, because I seem to
remember climbing through a jungle the last time we had that particular pretty
thing to look at.”

When we arrive at the theme
park, and stand in the car park for half an hour listening to a lecture from
the teachers about safety, responsible behaviour, manners and the time to get
back to the coach, we finally set off. Debs and I lag behind the group. They’re
not exactly making us feel very welcome. I think it might have been Ewan’s idea
to invite us. Lloyd has not so much as glanced at us. Darren looked but didn’t
say anything. Cole gave us a dirty look and they all walked on ahead.

“Let’s go on the ghost train,” I
hear Ewan say. “It’s supposed to have had a makeover since last year. They
reckon it’s really scary now.”

Oh, thank God. The ghost train I
can do. The ghost train is the most mundane ride here. It’s just a dark room
full of plastic coalminers with rusty axes. They don’t even move. It’s not like
there are skeletons popping out everywhere or green slime falling from the
ceiling. In fact, it’s a pretty poor excuse for a ghost train. Even with a
makeover, I’m sure the scariest thing about it is any spiders and other insects
that may have chosen to live there.

When we get to the ride however,
I realise that Ewan is right. It has had a makeover, complete with green smoke
and billowing black curtains.

We all sit in an old-fashioned
coal cart and set off through the dark tunnels. This is certainly different
than it was last year. Way more scary. Not that I’m scared or anything, but
there’s a rat in the bottom of our cart and I’m not sure whether it’s real or
not.

God, there’s fake people being
stabbed and everything. Fake blood that squirts out onto the track. Bats.
Ghosts that don’t even look like a person wearing a sheet anymore.

I scream as a plastic bat hits me
on the head.

Everyone bursts out laughing.

“It’s not funny. You should’ve
chosen a decent ride… like the teacups. They’re fun.”

“Yeah, if you’re five.” Lloyd
laughs.

“Could you be any more of a
girl?” Darren asks.

“Boo!” Lloyd grabs my shoulder
and makes me jump out of my skin.

I’m so mad at him that it
doesn’t even register that Lloyd Layton just touched my shoulder. Making girls
jump is not funny.

That skeleton has eye sockets
that follow you around. I jump again when it leaps from the wall and practically
falls across the cart.

I can’t wait to get off this
ride.

After jumping about sixty more
times, we finally make it to the end and climb out.

That was horrible.

“Jeez, Chessie, I thought you
were brave,” Ewan says helpfully.

“I am,” I mutter.

Great. Now Lloyd thinks I’m a
wimp.

Well, if I’m going to prove him
wrong, this is the place to do it. Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped so much on
that train, but I can still prove him wrong. Lloyd loves big, scary rides, and
anything Lloyd can do, I can do too.

There’s a rollercoaster. A big,
frightening rollercoaster. One of the biggest rollercoasters in Europe. Lloyd
and Darren are the only ones who want to go on it. Lloyd laughs and calls Ewan
a wimp when he says he’d rather go and see the aquarium with Debs.

This is a perfect opportunity to
impress Lloyd Layton. Not that there is any part of me that actually
wants
to go on it, but I have to. He thinks I’m a
loser after the ghost train, I have to impress him somehow.

I don’t want to talk about the
rollercoaster.

Lets just say, I screamed. A
lot. There may have been drool. It’s a good thing I hadn’t eaten lunch yet or
there may have been vomit too.

I think it was a mistake to hang
around with Lloyd’s group today. Debs and I could have found a quiet corner and
be sunbathing right now.

There is, however, one ride I
want to go on.

The River Cascade.

It’s a water slide. Okay, it’s a
little high for my liking, but everyone who went on it last year raved about
it, so I want to give it a go. Even Debs does.

The boys say that this ride is
too girly for them and wait behind the fence at the bottom.

Except Ewan. He comes with us.

The three of us get in a canoe
together.

I don’t want to talk about the
River Cascade.

Lets just say, I screamed. But not
because of the height. Because of the water.

Did I mention that today I chose
to wear a white t-shirt and a white bra?

I am soaked.

I look like I’ve entered a wet
t-shirt competition.

You can see my boobs.

Lloyd Layton can see my boobs.

So can Darren, and he is
laughing at me.

It is
not
funny.

It’s a relief to sit down for
lunch.

We sit on a patch of grass under
a tree and pull our packed lunches out of our bags. Maybe it’ll give me time to
dry off a bit. I don’t want to draw attention to them by checking but I’m
almost positive you can see my nipples through this top.

I don’t want to talk about
lunch.

Let’s just say, I screamed.
Because of the bees. And the ants.

I didn’t know there was an ants’
nest when I said that we should sit underneath the tree.

I certainly didn’t know that
they were red ants.

And how was I supposed to know
that red ants are somewhat different from black ants in the fact that they
bite?

It’s not my fault that Leigh and
two of her friends came along and sat down next to us, and it’s certainly not
my fault that she took a bite out of her cream cake and then threw the rest at
Debs and me.

The food fight wasn’t my fault
either, I swear. Just because I picked up a grape and lobbed it back at her
does not make me a bad person. I was just sick of her always interrupting and
picking on me. What gives her the right to throw a cream cake at us, and
interrupt my time with Lloyd? She’s not interested in him though, it’s Ewan
that she wants. I just don’t want to eat lunch with the class bully, lying in
wait like a lion and watching all the time for me to slip up.

I didn’t mean for the wasps to
come. But when you have cream cake and sticky buns splattered everywhere,
including a big jam stain in the very centre of your chest, they tend to do
that.

It’s not like I wanted anyone to
get stung.

Well, I wouldn’t have minded if
it had been Leigh.

It wasn’t. It was Lloyd.

A wasp got him right on the back
of his neck.

I just hope he’s not allergic.

And bees keep buzzing around me
thanks to the jam on my t-shirt.

Why didn’t I consider that I
might get into a food fight with Leigh Marlow and bring a spare top?

The day was pretty much ruined
after the paramedics came. It turns out that Lloyd is very much allergic to
wasp stings and started having trouble breathing. He had to be injected with
adrenaline and ordered to take it easy for the rest of the day.

After lunch, and a bollocking
off the teachers for the food fight and endangering the life of a classmate, we
went on the Pirate Ship.

I don’t want to talk about the
Pirate Ship.

Let’s just say, I screamed. I
thought I was going to fall to my death.

Lloyd sat on the sidelines and
thought it was hilarious.

It was nothing like Johnny
Depp’s ship in
Pirates of the Caribbean
.

I thought it was supposed to be
considered lucky when you step in dog poop.

Or is that when a bird poops on
you?

I don’t want to talk about the
dog poop.

Dogs aren’t even allowed in
Summerville Park.

And it certainly wasn’t lucky
for me.

In fact, the only thing that went
right today was the giant bar of chocolate on sale in the gift shop.

But I have learned my lesson.

Next year, Debs and I will look
at fish.

CHAPTER 13

My most hated day of the school
year? Sports day. Without a doubt.

It used to be fun in primary
school when we only ever used to do egg and spoon races, but in this school,
it’s horrible. It’s actually about
sports
. Ugh.

We can take our pick between two
hundred metre runs, four hundred metre runs, long jump, discus, javelin
throwing and obstacle courses. It’s all so energetic. The worst part is that
you
have
to compete in at least two events.
There’s no such thing as optional. There’s no backing out. The teachers are
determined that on this one boiling hot July day, a few days before you break up
for the summer holidays, you are going to
sweat
.

I tried to get out of it, I
really did. As we walked up to the field with our forms this morning, I
pretended to fall down an imaginary pothole and sprain my ankle, but Miss Raine
just pretended she hadn’t seen me. Because she didn’t see it, she would’ve
thought I was faking it like I do to get out of any other sporting event.

So I’ve chosen to do javelin and
long jump, because these require the least amount of running. Debs is doing
discus and javelin.

I think I might have actually
found something athletic that I’m good at. Well, maybe good is too strong a
word, but something that I’m not
completely
rubbish at, at least. I can throw a javelin. We had it for games earlier this
week, and I actually threw mine farther than anybody else in the class,
including the boys. And, as an added bonus, I didn’t accidentally stab anyone
with it. It’s just a shame that Lloyd Layton wasn’t in our group to see my
achievement. I hope he’ll be there today. I think he will. He’s a total sports
freak so will undoubtedly be competing in every event.

I’m right about that. Debs, Ewan
and I work our way around the field where all the events are set up and I spot
Lloyd and Darren’s names on every single sign-up form. Even the four hundred
metre race.

That boy is insane.

I don’t know why boys are so
attracted to sports. How can anyone actually choose to go running and jumping
instead of sitting on the grass and watching? Besides, don’t they say that being
a spectator is an event of its own? All that cheering people on should be
classed as exercise.

Javelin, long jump and discus
aren’t until this afternoon so Debs and I have the whole morning to lounge
around on the grassy banks of the field and pretend that we’re cheering the
others on, when really we’re planning what we’re going to do over the summer
holidays.

It’s only just after nine in the
morning and the first event of the day is the two hundred metre race. I keep my
eyes firmly on Lloyd as he lines up at the starting point with all the other
idiots who choose to run at this time of day. I bet none of them have a chance
against Lloyd with his long legs and affinity for sports in general. He must be
really fit. And he looks extra good when he’s all hot and sweaty.

Mr Hursh is standing in the
middle of the track with a whistle, and as soon as he blows it, the six runners
take off. There are a few groups of six, whoever wins each group gets five
merit points, and whoever has the fastest overall time gets the prize. I have
no idea what the prize is because obviously I’ve never won an event, but I
think it might be vouchers for fitness equipment. Our school should make the
prizes more desirable and then maybe more people would compete. I might even
compete if the prize was a voucher for shoes or make-up or something even
remotely interesting.

Lloyd is going like the clappers
around that track.

“I’m worn out just watching,”
Debs says. “They should at least hold sports day in the winter when it’s not so
hot.”

I agree. But then I guess it
would be wet and muddy instead. Perhaps we should suggest holding it in the
springtime to Miss Raine as a compromise.

Lloyd and Darren are neck and
neck as they reach the finishing line, but Lloyd just makes it and wins the race.

Wow.

He’s so good.

“I told you he’d win,” I say to
Debs.

“Bigger isn’t always better, you
know,” she mutters.

We both lay back on the grass,
worn out from shaking our fists and yelling, “Come on!” at the runners.

“Hello, ladies,” says a very
familiar voice.

Yikes. I sit up too fast and
turn my head around.

I don’t believe it.

A very hot, very sweaty Lloyd
Layton has sprawled on the grass near us, drinking out of a water bottle and
wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, which is either very gross or
like something out of a Diet Coke advert. I can’t decide which.

“Hi,” I mumble.

I turn around and stare straight
ahead, pretty much frozen to the spot.

Debs winks at me and nudges me
with her elbow.

“I can’t,” I whisper.

It’s true. I cannot pluck up the
courage to speak to him, even though he’s sitting mere feet away, and he’s not
surrounded by a gang of boys like he usually is.

I look terrible today. My thighs
feel fatter than normal, my face feels spottier than normal, and my
glow-in-the-dark pale legs are on show because we’re stuck wearing our gym kits
all day, even if we have no intention of working up a sweat. My hair is frizzy
from the heat, and I know that I have a particularly huge zit on the side of my
nose.

Debs nudges me again.

I turn around and smile
awkwardly at Lloyd. “Congratulations,” I stammer. “You were good out there.”

“Thanks,” he says with a smile.

Then he does something
unexpected. He scoots closer to us.

He actually voluntarily moved
across the grass for the sole purpose of sitting closer to me.

“That was tough going. I really
thought Darren was going to beat me.”

“We were rooting for you,” Debs
says.

“Cheers.”

If he thinks we’re insane
stalkers he doesn’t show it.

“So, what else are you competing
in today?” I ask as casually as I can when I’m nearly hyperventilating from
this close proximity. As if I don’t know perfectly well what he’s competing in.

“Oh, everything,” he says,
smiling again. “I love sports day.”

I’m glad he told me because I
would never have known otherwise.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll do
great.”

“What are you two doing?”

“As little as possible,” I say.
“I’m doing the javelin and the long jump.”
But please
don’t come and watch the long jump because my boobs will probably escape from
my bra and hit me in the eye
.

Now I come to think of it, maybe
long jump isn’t such a good idea if you’re anything over an A cup. Oh well. I
want Lloyd to be around when I have to throw my javelin, but I really hope he’s
caught up in his own event when I have to do the long jump.

I have no idea what to say to
him. I don’t want him to get up and leave, I want him to stay and talk to us,
but I have no idea what to say. There is nothing remotely clever or witty
inside my head. Debs must sense it, because she says, “So, what’s next?”

“The four hundred metre race,”
Lloyd replies. “We’ve got half an hour to recover from this one, then we get to
do it all over again for twice the distance.”

“Sounds like fun,” I say.

“I tell you what, I will be so
impressed by whoever wins this one.”

“Don’t you think it will be
you?”

“Not a chance. Darren nearly
beat me just now and that was only two hundred metres. This one is gonna kill
me. Whoever can run four hundred metres will get my respect for life.”

Talk about handing it to me on a
plate.

I will be so impressed with
whoever wins this one.

… Will get my respect for life.

I know what I have to do.

I have to win the four hundred
metre race.

Ewan comes back and plops down
on the grass next to Lloyd.

“Oh good, I was waiting for
you,” Lloyd says.

Suddenly I feel disappointed. I
thought he might’ve come over here just to see me. He scooted closer and
everything. I thought he might have actually wanted to talk to me.

“Good luck with your events.”
Lloyd looks me directly in the eyes as they both get up and go to leave. “See
you around.”

“We’ll be cheering for you,”
Debs says, waving as he walks away.

The disappointment gives way to
excitement. I’m going to win Lloyd’s admiration. Soon enough he will come to
sit by me because he actually wants to sit by me.

“Wait here,” I say to Debs, and
I get up and jog down to Mr Hursh.

“I’d like to add my name to the
sign-ups for the four hundred metres,” I say.

“Fine.” He hands me the
clipboard.

I scribble my name on the form.

“You’re in the second group.” He
looks me up and down somewhat distastefully. “Make sure you do some stretches
first to warm up.”

“Thanks, I will.”

He gives me another look that
makes me think I must have ‘non-athletic’ stamped on my forehead or something.

But, on the bright side, that
turned out exactly as I wanted it to, because Lloyd is in the second group of
runners too. I know because I checked his name this morning, just so I knew
when to run to the cafeteria for a flapjack and when to stay on the field. I am
going to be racing Lloyd Layton. And somehow I have to beat him.

Oh.

That might not be so easy.

Well, maybe he’ll consider that
it’s the taking part that counts and not the winning.

Maybe if I could even come
second or something, because he sounded quite impressed that Darren had nearly
pipped him to the post.

I flop back down on the grass
next to Debs.

“Chessie,” she says. “I think I
know what you just did, but maybe you could confirm the insanity for me?”

“I just signed up for the four
hundred metre race.”

“I hate to ask, but what on
earth would possess you to do something like that?”

“You heard what Lloyd just said.
He’ll be really impressed with whoever wins this race. It’s my chance to show
him that I’m good enough for him.”

“Chessie, you’re more than good
enough for him anyway.”

“Thanks,” I say. “But I’m
obviously not, am I? Because he hasn’t looked twice at me all year. I need to
show him that I’m his type of girl.”

“How do you know what his type
is? He doesn’t seem interested in anyone in particular, it’s not just you.”

I suppose that is one thing I
should be grateful for. I’d be devastated if Lloyd started going out with
someone else. I guess I should just be thankful that he hasn’t yet.

“That means I have to move
quickly. I have to make him like me before he starts liking someone else.”

“That’s insane.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Chessie, the reason he’s not
into you or anyone else is because he’s like all the other boys our age, he’s
into cars, sports, and college girls. We’re too immature for these boys, and
they’re too immature for us.”

“Lloyd’s different. Besides,
Ewan would’ve said if he had an older girlfriend.”

“Pfft.”

“Anyway, Mr Hursh said I need to
warm up or something, any idea how I do that?”

“You really are insane. You’re
going to kill yourself, you know that, don’t you? You get out of breath running
for the bus.”

“I do not,” I start to protest
then realise that she’s actually right. “Well, maybe a little. But I can run. I
just have to do it for a bit longer than usual.”

“You have to do it for
four hundred metres
.”

“If I’d have thought of it
before I’d have tried the two hundred, but sign-ups are closed now. Besides,
Lloyd is only going to care about the four hundred. He’s already won the two.
Anyone can do it.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Look, even that little kid from
9A is doing it, and he looks like he hasn’t seen the sunlight in two years.”

Debs laughs. “So, what warm ups
do you have to do? Stretches and stuff?”

I shrug. “I guess so. Do you
know how to do any?”

“I think you just, like, stand
with your legs apart and, um, push down on one knee and then the other.”

I try to remember how I’ve seen
athletes warming up on TV in the past. What do people running the London
Marathon do? Apart from a lot of training, obviously.

It’s not my fault I don’t have
time for training. If Lloyd had said what he said about three months ago then I
could’ve gone for a jog every day and have been in good shape by now. It’s not
my fault he leaves it until half an hour before the race begins to tell me that
if I win he’ll love me for life. Well, maybe not those exact words. But still.

And there’s no point in starting
training now, because I’ll wear myself out before the race.

Nothing else I’ve attempted in
the quest to get him to notice me has worked; why not give this a go too? I
suppose if the worst comes to the worst I can pull out half way round and look
like an idiot in front of the whole school.

If I even make it half way.

No. Stop doubting.

I can do this.

I think.

I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever
tried to run four hundred metres before. It’s not like I’ve ever tried to run
anywhere before, other than that time the Welsh teacher didn’t hear the buzzer
go and we all nearly missed our buses home.

Mr Hursh blows his whistle and
everybody in the field turns to look at him.

“Four hundred metres: groups
one, two, and three, minus five minutes. Line up please!” He yells at the top
of his voice. He will never require the use of a loudspeaker.

“Oh, bollocks,” I say to Debs.
“I haven’t done any warm ups.”

“Chess, no offence, but I don’t
think warm ups will help you here. I don’t think anything will help you here.”

“Thanks for the vote of
confidence.”