Stolen Girl (6 page)

‘See you,’ she replied. ‘And Katie,’ she said, turning back to face me, ‘good luck!’

Moments later, a man I didn’t know lifted me up into a plastic chair. It was swathed in a white sheet and surrounded with tubs full of pink, red and orange pansy flowers. A little girl and boy were already on the float, sitting either side of my ‘throne’.

‘We’re your attendants,’ the little girl whispered, taking my hand. She was as nervous as I was.

‘It’s okay,’ I soothed. ‘I’ll look after you.’

The little girl smiled up at me and, for the first time in ages, I felt special.

With a sudden jolt, the engine started up and the float lunged forward – we were off on our way. As we turned the corner towards the start point, I felt the familiar knot of anxiety twist in the pit of my stomach. Thankfully, we weren’t at the front of the parade but in the middle – like the jewel in the crown. In some ways it made it worse. What if people were disappointed when they saw Katie Taylor sitting on the throne?

My body jangled with fear and I found myself crippled with self-doubt.
What was I doing? Who did I think I was? What if they laughed at me?

These thoughts raced through my mind as the music started up and the parade began. I gasped when I saw the crowd, and what seemed to be hundreds of people lining the street.

Parents and children glanced up from the path below. Little
ones pointed up at me. Their mouths were wide-open in awe, as if they were seeing a real-life princess.

Suddenly a lone voice carried high above the music and the sound of the crowd.

‘Oh my God, it’s Katie Taylor!’ the voice called; it was loud and it rose above the other noise.

I turned to see the ugly freckle-faced boy from my class. He was laughing and nudging his mates. In a flash, I was back in the classroom. The bullies were there, watching, laughing and pointing at me. But this was worse: now I was high up on a throne where everyone could see me – there was nowhere to hide. Despite the heavy pan stick make-up I felt myself flush. They’d tear me apart.

Oh God, here we
go… I thought.

I took a deep breath. My nerves were getting the better of me as my stomach churned like a washing machine. I felt sick but the float was moving and there was no escape.

I’ll just have to grit my teeth and get through this,
I told myself. I wanted the ground to swallow me up as the boy shouted louder so that everyone could hear.

‘Look, it’s Katie Taylor – the ugliest Carnival Queen you’ve ever seen!’ he hollered. He was laughing, but then I realised no one else was: he was on his own. I felt a glimmer of hope.

The boy continued to jeer and call out but I ignored him and stared straight ahead. I had to do this, and I would. I’d do it for Debbie, Aunt Sarah, Mum and Dad, but most of all, I’d do it for myself.

Just then I spotted a few familiar faces craning their necks from the front of the parade. It was the girls from the dance troupe and they were trying to get a better look. Now they knew it was me who was the Carnival Queen, I wondered
what they’d say. I thought of poor Lauren up there with them. I had to do this for her as well, to show them that they weren’t better than us.

Nervously, I held out my hand and began to wave. As I did so, I heard the crowd clap and cheer. People waved back at me and everyone was smiling. It spurred me on. A rush of joy flooded through me. I could do this, and I would. I waved my hand again and a small child waved back as if I was the Queen herself. The more I waved, the more applause I got. For the first time in my life I felt special – it felt good. Soon I was waving and smiling at everyone we passed, even the nasty kids from school. The shock on their faces when they saw I was Queen made me laugh even more. It had been worthwhile, all the worry and stress – it was priceless. Slowly the parade wound down the main street. I smiled serenely as if I was truly meant to be there. No one could touch me now.

Eventually, we came to a stop at the funfair and my day as Queen was over. Mum and Dad were standing alongside my brother Andrew. My parents’ faces were full of pride.

‘Here she is,’ Dad cheered, his arms outstretched, ‘here’s my little princess!’

Mum grabbed the camera and Andrew rolled his eyes. He didn’t like me being the centre of attention, but I loved it!

‘Katie, let me get a photo quick,’ Mum said, as she began to snap away.

Out of the corner of my eye I spotted the dance troupe crowding round to get a better look. Their faces contorted with jealousy – angry arms folded across their flat chests. They were whispering too, but I knew they wouldn’t say anything, not with Mum and Dad there.

Mum took dozens more pictures and eventually Aunt Sarah came dashing over.

‘Well done, Katie, you looked amazing!’ she gasped, planting a kiss on top of my head.

‘Thanks,’ I replied. I
felt
amazing.

‘When she’s ready, bring the dress over to me and I’ll pop it back in the bag,’ she told Mum. But I never wanted to take the dress off because then the magic would be gone. I wanted to wear it forever. Then my life would always feel this good. I felt amazing, if only for a day, and I wanted to stay that way forever. But soon it was time to change back into my old clothes and my old life.

‘Here,’ said Dad, noticing my disappointment, ‘here’s some money. Go and spend it on the merry-go-round.’

He dropped several pound coins into my hand so I dashed over to my favourite ride. I chose the biggest and prettiest horse I could see – a beautiful white stallion with a blue saddle and sky-blue eyes. As I bobbed up and down, I imagined galloping as far as I could from the town and the bullies. The ride spun faster and the fairground whizzed by in a blur. I closed my eyes. This was the happiest day of my life and I didn’t want it to end. Dad wrapped an arm around Mum’s waist and the sun was hot in the sky; everything was perfect. I’d been Queen for the day and everyone had seen.

I was tired but happy as I climbed into my bed later that night. But a niggling doubt wouldn’t go away; it gnawed its way through the back of my mind. I wasn’t really a Queen; I was just plain old Katie Taylor and I always would be.

I knew what the others thought and now I was certain they’d make my life a misery. They’d make me pay for today. I’d pay for that one tiny slice of happiness.

‘
H
ow come you got chosen for Carnival Queen?’ Melanie, the nasty blonde girl sneered. She trapped me with her arms against the classroom wall. Her piggy blue eyes narrowed when she spoke.

There were other girls there too. They were egging her on. Melanie put her hand on her hip and waited for my answer but I didn’t know what to say. It infuriated her even more.

‘You’re too ugly to be Carnival Queen,’ she yelled, ‘Everyone knows it! Why would they pick you, Katie Taylor? They should have picked one of us,’ she said, looking back at the rest of the group, who nodded in unison.

Fear caught at the back of my throat. But she wasn’t finished.

‘I should have been Carnival Queen, not you, because I’m loads prettier.’

I stared blankly at her face. She wasn’t pretty at all. Her face was contorted and twisted with jealousy. In that moment, I
realised just how ugly she really was. But my silence wound her up even more. Holding out the palm of her hand, she gave me a hard shove in the chest. I fell backwards, trapping my school rucksack behind me. My pencil case dug in as Melanie pinned me there and stuck her face in front of mine. She was so close that I could see the spit on her teeth. She looked vicious and wild, like an animal.

More children gathered round and circled us, thinking a fight was about to break out.

‘You’re too ugly and thick to be Carnival Queen,’ Melanie sneered, her spit showering my face. It felt disgusting. She glanced back at her audience and then at me. My whole body trembled with fear.

‘Can you imagine Mophead as the Gala Queen?’ she laughed. ‘Now that’s the biggest joke of all ’cos she’s the ugliest girl in school!’

The others laughed. Suddenly a rage welled up inside me. The words came spilling out before I had the chance to stop them.

‘Yes,’ I snapped, pushing her away. I stood up straight and looked her square in the eye. ‘But you can’t be
that
pretty, Melanie, otherwise it
would
have been you up there on that throne, and not me!’

The room fell silent. Katie Taylor, the girl who had no voice, had suddenly found one. No one knew what to say. Suddenly, Melanie’s eyes narrowed as she tried to think of something to say but nothing would come. I’d just taken the wind out of her sails. It was the first time I’d really stood up for myself and it felt good.
Really
good. I realised that I’d won, this time.

Finally, one of the other girls tapped her on the shoulder. ‘Leave her, Mel,’ she mumbled. ‘She’s not worth it.’

Melanie stopped to consider me for a second longer, her eyes full of hatred.

‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘you’re right, she’s not worth it and she never will be. You’ll always be a loser,’ she hissed at me.

Then she turned and walked away; the rest of the group followed. I wondered how someone so horrid could hold so much power. I looked at the others still but no one would look at me. I was surrounded by people but I’d never felt so alone. Pulling up a sleeve, I glanced at my watch – it was still early. I prayed for the time to pass and for Megan to arrive soon.

The girls were still whispering about me at the back of the classroom when the first lesson began. Some were intrigued and a few even approached me to ask questions in first break.

How come you were chosen? How did you get to be the Gala Queen?
They all wanted to know. Of course, I didn’t tell them the real reason. Instead I simply shrugged my shoulders.

‘I was just asked, that’s all,’ I replied.

Occasionally throughout the day, I caught them looking. I could tell what they were thinking.
Why, in a town full of pretty girls, was Katie Taylor chosen?

They didn’t say it but they didn’t have to; it was written all over their faces. The question was burning inside them. Of course I never told them the real reason that I’d only ended up in the role by default. I wanted them to believe I’d been chosen because I was pretty. I wanted them to stand in my shoes for a change.

But as the days passed, the name calling got worse. Melanie wouldn’t let it go and by now she’d assembled a whole army behind her, including the boys. It was as if nothing had changed. My Carnival Queen moment had passed and now it was back to reality with a bump.

When the boys said I was too ugly to be Carnival Queen, I thought my heart would break. I’d had a secret crush on a few of them but now I felt ugly. I convinced myself I was ugly – I’d never get a boyfriend now. No one would ever want to go out with me.

Later that day, I trudged in from school as if I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders. I threw my school bag down on the floor and hung my coat up on the usual peg but as I did so, all the hurt and emotion I’d been holding inside bubbled up to the surface. Tears welled until my eyes were full and everything came spilling out. Mum heard me cry and came running over.

‘Katie,’ she said, taking me in her arms, ‘whatever’s the matter?’

The look on her face made me sob even more. I never told her how hard my life at school was– she had no idea, neither did Dad. They knew nothing about the bullying I faced every day. I was beginning to wish I’d never agreed to be the stupid Queen.

As the words came tumbling out Mum said nothing, she just listened.

‘They call me ugly,’ I wept. ‘They say I’m too ugly to be Gala Queen. Maybe they’re right?’

But Mum was having none of it. She grabbed my face and held it tight in her hands to get my full attention.

‘Now listen here, Katie Taylor. You were chosen because you are pretty, do you hear me?’

Her voice rose as if she was angry, but I knew she wasn’t angry with me.

‘You are lovely, Katie – never forget that. You are worth a million of them. Do you hear me?’ Mum said, clasping my face in her hands.

‘Okay,’ I whispered and nodded forlornly.

But it was alright for Mum; she didn’t have to go to school every day and listen to the nasty comments. I did, but that was my life and I’d just have to get used to it.

Soon Megan, Lauren and I became friends with another girl called Beth. She sat next to me in most of my lessons. Like us, Beth wasn’t part of the popular gang, so we let her join ours. Together, we promised to look out for one another.

A few days later, we were in a PE lesson when the teacher explained we’d be doing fitness tests. The aim of the lesson was to run between two points. A bleep would sound and you had to reach the other side of the room before it bleeped again. I tried my best to run to the other side of the hall but it was hopeless, I just wasn’t as fast as the others.

‘Look, the Carnival Queen isn’t very clever now, is she?’ Melanie taunted from the back of the hall. I stared at her.

Soon the bleeps got even closer together and try as I might, I just wasn’t quick enough.

‘God, you’re so unfit,’ another girl sneered. The others heard her and giggled. Shame-faced, I hung my head as I walked to the end of the line.

I didn’t know why I wasn’t as good as the others. Maybe it was because I had started to believe them when they told me how useless I was? The only thing I was certain of was that my confidence was draining out of me daily, like grains of sand in an hourglass.

‘Just ignore them,’ Lauren said later in the cloakroom, when I told her about it. ‘They’ll soon get bored and move onto the next thing.’

I wanted to believe her but it was hard to think this would ever come to an end. However, after a month, Lauren’s words came true.

A new girl arrived in school one Monday morning. Her name was Donna. She was an odd-looking girl with dark frizzy hair and glasses. She didn’t look girly like the others, instead she was quirky and individual, just like us. We soon discovered that she’d left another school in the area to move to ours but we didn’t know why.

At first, the popular girls were all over her like a rash. They wanted to know why she’d moved to our school and left her old one half-way through term. They wanted to know her secrets so that they could use them against her. It took all the strength I had not to wade into the middle of the group just to warn her but it was no good, I couldn’t get close. Even from where I was sitting, I could see Donna was nothing like them. I knew that before long, they’d chew her up and spit her out, just like they did everyone else.

I watched as she shifted uneasily in her seat when they fired question after question at her. She squirmed under the intense spotlight. Like us, she didn’t fit in and she knew it. Whilst part of me felt sorry for her, another part wanted to give her a wide berth – life was difficult enough without someone else to look out for.

Once lessons began it was apparent why Donna had left her last school: she struggled with the simplest of tasks. I watched in English as she traced a finger along the page of the book, mouthing each word silently to herself as she read. She read her book like a five-year-old. I thought it odd. The book wasn’t even difficult yet she seemed to struggle and she never put her hand up in class. She wasn’t much better at maths either. Soon, I wasn’t the dumbest girl in the class anymore – poor Donna was given the title. Almost immediately, the popular girls drifted away from her. Her newness wore off and now no one wanted
to know. I felt a pang of guilt when I saw her on her own at break times, sad, lonely and left out. I knew I ought to help but something told me to stay away – I had enough to deal with without asking for more trouble.

So a few days later, when one of the popular girls approached and started being over-friendly, I was naturally suspicious. As always, there was a reason behind it.

‘Listen, we’re supposed to be looking after Donna but could you do it instead?’ she said.

I looked at Lauren and Beth.

‘Why?’ I asked. I didn’t want Donna in our group, she was odd and things were hard enough without having to look after her.

‘It’s just that we think she’ll fit in more with your group than ours,’ the girl said. She preened her hair as she spoke. I wanted to slap her.

I turned and looked back at the others in horror. She was basically saying that because Donna was an oddball, she’d blend in with our group. I felt utterly insulted but I also realised then that Donna had no one else; we had to help.

Donna wasn’t thick, she just couldn’t read or write. It wasn’t her fault, she had dyslexia. That’s why she’d left her last school, because her life had been made a misery with constant bullying. When I heard, I wanted to help because I knew what it felt like when people labelled you ‘thick’.

‘People think I’m stupid but there’s something wrong with my eyes,’ she explained. ‘When I try to read the words just jump and move about on the page. I try to trace them with my finger but nothing works, nothing keeps them still. I can’t do anything about it. I try my best but it’s like they’re always jiggling and dancing around.’

Lauren and I looked at one another in astonishment.

‘What, you mean you can’t read anything?’ Megan asked bluntly.

Donna shook her head sadly. I decided then that not only would we protect her, but I’d try my best to help her too. English was something I was good at. If anyone could help, it was me. But by befriending her, our group had taken on a whole new heap of trouble.

‘Watch out, here comes Mophead and her freaks,’ a boy hissed as we passed by.

I turned to the others. I didn’t say a word because I didn’t have to, we all knew what we had to do. Within seconds we’d surrounded him. There were five of us now. Our ranks were swelling – there was safety in numbers and now we could defend ourselves.

The boy smirked nervously as we crowded around him.

‘Yeah, you and whose army?’ he sneered, but then he saw the look on our faces and knew we weren’t joking anymore. There was one of him, but five of us.

‘Only kidding, girls,’ he shrugged, holding his hands out.

‘Come on,’ I said, shooting him one last filthy look. With that we turned and walked away.

With Lauren in a different class, Beth and I became inseparable. We’d sit next to each other in lessons and hang around at lunch times together. When we walked along the corridor, we’d often link arms. Other girls did the same too and no one said a word, but when we did it the others called us gay.

‘Watch out, here come the lesbians!’ they would chant whenever we approached. I didn’t care because I was becoming more confident. Finally, I was toughening up and sometimes I even stood up to them; it felt good. There were
five of us now, we were a unit and together we could look after ourselves.

Only Donna wasn’t as strong as we thought she was. The constant bullying, even in the safety of a group, eventually ground her down. She’d had enough and, after only a few months, she left without a word. I arrived one morning to find her desk and chair empty. It felt symbolic somehow; maybe we weren’t as strong as I thought we were.

‘Where’s Donna, Miss?’ I asked the teacher.

‘She’s gone,’ she replied, without even looking up. She flicked through a pile of books on top of her desk.

‘Gone where?’ I asked.

‘She’s gone, left the school,’ she snapped. ‘Now please leave me alone, Katie, I have books to mark.’

Our friend had simply vanished without a word. She didn’t even stop to say goodbye, she just left. I felt sad, disappointed she hadn’t been stronger. It was as if she’d simply given up – and I felt that by leaving she’d let both us and herself down. I wondered how many other schools she’d have to go through before she stopped running. Would she ever stop running away from herself and her problems?

I felt slightly envious of Donna because there had been many a time when I’d wished I could have run away, but I soon learnt life isn’t like that. If you have problems, they don’t simply vanish just because you choose to. Wherever you go, your problems go too. They have a habit of packing themselves up and following you around like a shadow.

I still felt sad when I arrived home from school. Mum wasn’t in the kitchen as usual. I thought it odd – she always cooked us a hot meal before leaving for work. But tonight the kitchen was cold. Suddenly, I heard raised voices up above me. It was Mum
and Dad – they were arguing in the bedroom. Their voices were loud but muffled and distorted by the closed door. I tried to listen but couldn’t quite work out what they were saying. The argument brewed into something else and from that day on it spread like a virus through our home and throughout their marriage. After that, they seemed to argue the whole time as if they’d lost all the love they’d once held for one another.