Not My Fault, page 12
“Found who?”
“Look!” She opened the bag. There, on top of the notebooks and flower press and hat and phone, scrabbling to climb up the lining of the bag, was a small brown furry animal. Nibble. “He was back in the bathroom where we left him,” Bonnie said.
“Wow, Bonnie. You’re brilliant. I’ll tell Archie… No, you can tell him.”
So she did.
Archie looked as if he might burst. “He must have gone for a walk and come back. What did he find to eat, though?” he said.
“Oh, stop worrying. He’s back. Give him some food and some water,” I said.
“I can’t believe it!” Archie hugged Bonnie, then me. “I can’t believe he’s coming home!”
Rose:
Being the Best I Can Be
We waited to do our routine behind a screen in the cafeteria. Clemmy was odd and quiet. When Dillon was doing his stand-up comedy just before our turn, Clemmy said, “We’re not prepared enough, Rose.”
“No, we aren’t,” I said.
“We won’t be the best we can be,” she said.
“No, we won’t,” I said. There didn’t seem to be anything else to say.
“Is it true you saved the others from a seal attack?” Clemmy asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“That’s actually quite cool. Did the seal…”
“I don’t want to be in the squad any more.” There. I’d said it. And Maya wasn’t even there to help me.
Clemmy fixed me with a strong stare. “I know I said you were borderline, Rose, but…”
“I don’t like training, Clemmy.” I said. “I think being the best I can be might mean not doing so much gym.”
“Oh!”
She went into a squat. I copied.
“Might you just come and do gym sometimes?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I will.”
Miss Stewart must have been feeling better because she said well done to lots of people when they came off stage. Mr Goodman played the guitar really well. He sang a song he wrote for his wife who had just had a baby. “Has anyone else got something they want to show the rest of us?” he asked. “Who hasn’t shared something? It could be a thing you collected, like Bonnie’s shells or something you do. Or you could just tell us about something. Has anyone not had a chance?”
We looked round the group.
“Maya hasn’t done anything?” Bonnie said. “She should tell a story.”
“My sister’s really good at stories,” I said.
Everyone turned to look at me.
“No, I’m not,” Maya said.
“Yes, you are,” I said. “You’ve always been good at telling stories and when we were … quite worried … on the island, you told a story to me and Bonnie. To both of us.”
So she started. But this was a new story.
“Once there was a seal and a butterfly. The butterfly spent her days flying around and everyone watched her because she was elegant. And the seal, who was her friend, spent her days in the sea because when she swam she was like a piece of the sea, all twisting and coiling. She had her own island.
“Anyway, one evening, there was a huge storm with lashing waves and pounding thunder and a boat with some people in it got stranded on the rocks. Bash bash.
“‘Oh no,’ they all cried, ‘we are going to perish.’ No one could help the poor passengers who were on a school trip and very frightened. ‘Help, help! If this boat turns over, we will drown, and all our families will be so sad.’ But no one could hear them because the storm was too loud. But there was someone who could understand the danger and that was the seal, and she called to the butterfly, ‘Come on!’
“The seal swam through the lashing waves and the butterfly flew through the pounding thunder and when they got to the boat the seal went round and round it and pushed it off the rocks with her head. She harnessed her neck in the ropes at the front and the butterfly flew high and looked for which way to go, then came down to land on the seal’s nose to keep her going in the right direction. ‘Go that way. Just keep going straight,’ she told her. ‘I won’t leave you!’ And they zoomed over the sea, up on a wave and down the other side, frothing and foaming everywhere around them, and the strong seal pulling and pulling.
“After a lot of dragging they were back at the beach, so all the passengers climbed out of the boat and they clapped and cried, and the seal and the butterfly bowed. Well, the seal bowed her long neck and the butterfly bent her elegant body. ‘You are a Lifeboat Rescue Service!’ called a passenger. ‘Congratulations to the Seal and Butterfly Lifeboat Rescue Service. Hooray!’”
We all clapped. The teachers were clapping as well.
Maya:
Welcome Home Again
Two things happened. Well, more than two, but two main ones. Rose and me got off the coach together because, actually, we had been sitting together all the way back, even though Bonnie played games with us the whole way, so I suppose we were a three really. But we did get off the coach together, and Mum and Gran were both there to meet us, and Mum hugged both of us at the same time.
I said, “Rose doesn’t want to compete any more in gym because she’s sick of it.”
And Rose said, “Maya should do the drama club in May because Miss Stewart says we can use her stories to make the drama club play.”
And Gran said, “Don’t we get a word in edgeways? What’s this I hear about you two wandering off in the night and getting yourselves in trouble?”
And Mum just hugged and hugged and hugged us and I realised she hadn’t said anything … not one single thing, except “welcome home”.
Rose:
Archie’s Surprise
And it was so funny that when Archie got home his mum said, “Come and see Nibble Two.” All his family pretended they had been looking after Nibble when they had obviously got a new hamster, so now Archie has two hamsters, but he’s going to give the new one to Bonnie to thank her. And I’m writing this in Maya’s bedroom, because I like being in Maya’s bedroom. The doctor says Maya won’t need a big operation, just an adjustment of her pins.
Maya
And I said, “I have to be better by May.”
And the doctor said, “Have you got something planned?”
“I’m making a play,” I said.
Rose
And I’m making the set, with Gran helping.
Maya
It’s a beach with rocks and the sea. And seals.
Rose
It won’t smell like seals, though.
Maya and Rose
Because seals smell terrible.
Acknowledgements
The story of Maya and Rose is very much rooted in school life and friendships. A School Journey is a powerful experience for children. They come back changed and enriched by this time away from home. The pupils I have worked with in Fern Hill and Malden Manor schools in Kingston upon Thames continue to inspire me in many ways.
As a parent of three daughters, I’ve obviously thought a lot about sibling relationships and watched them spark before my eyes!
As ever, big thanks to:
My family, who support and encourage me on good days and more difficult ones: The Howes: Adrian, Miranda, Ella and Judith and The Briggses: D and D, Al and Nancy.
Anne Clark, my agent, for her excellent help and advice.
Tom Bonnick, my editor who helped me to focus on the emotional heart of this story, and all the staff at Nosy Crow.
My writers’ group (Julian, Kryss, Lesley, Carolyn, and Clare) who meet regularly at the National Theatre in London. Thanks for honest feedback and all your ideas.
Sue Wallman, Sue Durrant, Jess Palmer, Alison Allen and Yvonne Hennessy: Thanks for your friendship and inspiration.
Copyright
First published 2019 by Nosy Crow Ltd
The Crow’s Nest, 14 Baden Place
Crosby Row, London SE1 1YW
www.nosycrow.com
ISBN: 978 1 78800 2 868
eISBN: 978 1 78800 5 326
Nosy Crow and associated logos are trademarks
and/or registered trademarks of Nosy Crow Ltd
Text © Cath Howe 2019
Cover typography © Joel Holland 2019
Cover artwork © Shutterstock 2019
The right of Cath Howe to be identified as the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of Nosy Crow Ltd.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Printed and bound in Great Britain by Clays Ltd, Elcograf S.p.A. Typeset by Tiger Media.
Papers used by Nosy Crow are made from wood grown in sustainable forests.
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Cath Howe, Not My Fault
