I pulled my library book out of my rucksack and shifted on my seat so my back was against the bus window. I opened my book and placed the letter inside so Jasper couldn’t see it.
The special programme of lessons on Healthy Living will be delivered by fitness and nutrition specialist Gina Grantley-Bond, and will include a range of learning opportunities including weight management, healthy eating, teamwork and mental well-being.
I kept reading. The class didn’t sound that bad in a way. It would be easier than saving up for facial surgery and probably less painful than getting all my fat sucked out. Miki would probably be rehearsing for the production on Fridays anyway. I liked learning new stuff, and Heidi and Harry would be there.
“Hey, look at Big taking up two seats.”
I looked up. It was a boy sitting on the back seat. I closed my book and turned back to face the front.
I thought about the boys who shouted “FAT CLUB!” earlier. How long would it be until it was all around school? What if this Gina person made us run laps of the field at lunchtime? In our PE kit? It would be even more humiliating than getting weighed in science. I had to convince Dad not to sign the form. Maybe I could say Mrs Savage was a dictator. Although, I didn’t know how Dad felt about dictators. He probably liked them.
When I got home, a strange smell was emanating from the kitchen. I peered through the bead curtain. Dad had his head in a recipe book, turning the page back and forth and tutting. He did that a lot when he was cooking. I pushed the beads to one side and leaned against the worktop.
“Hey! How was school?”
“Okay,” I lied. “What are you making?”
“Kale soup,” he said, wiping his hands on the tea towel over his shoulder.
“Kale soup?” It was definitely weird. My dad never made anything healthy-sounding. Maybe it was Auntie Luna’s idea. If there were any strange occurrences in our house, they usually came from Luna.
“There was a load of kale on offer at the supermarket!” Dad said.
Or they could be explained by a special offer at Asda.
“Dad, I need to talk to you about something,” I said, feeling like my intestines were filled with medieval rodents.
Dad looked up from the saucepan. He was about to say something when Jasper strolled in to boast about his science test result.
“That’s great, Jasper, well done! Now, have you got some homework or something to do upstairs? Your sister wants to talk to me.”
“Sure,” Jasper said. “No problem, Dad. I’ll get right on it.” He raised his eyebrows at me like I should somehow be impressed with his sucking-up skills.
Dad turned down the cooker then pulled out two chairs from the table. I waited until I heard Jasper’s bedroom door close, then sat down and pushed the letter across the table. Dad didn’t say anything for ages.
“It’s an abomination, really,” I said to break the silence. “Mrs Savage runs the school like a dictatorship.”
Dad kept his eyes on the letter. His face looked serious. Worse than when he found out about the science beakers.
“Oh, Jemima!”
I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but it wasn’t good.
He rubbed his hand across his beard and let out a long sigh. “I-I don’t know what to say.” He looked at me and smiled, but something in his eyes made me want to cry. “Listen, I don’t want you to worry about this, okay?”
“I’m not worried about it,” I said, half-lying. Maybe fully lying.
“I mean, obviously, there’s a…problem,” he said. And it felt like being smacked in the face with a football. I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that I was a “problem”. I could feel tears starting in my eyes again. “It’s just…you’ve always been…chubby, you know? Ever since you were a baby.”
“Great. I was a fat baby.”
Dad laughed, then his face went serious again. “I’m sorry, Jemima. I mean, you’ve always been…how you are. Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we should have done something sooner. The way they’ve said it here…I feel responsible.” He picked up the letter and put it straight back down again. Probably because he’d already read it ten times. “Oh jeez, with things like this I really wish your mum had stuck around.” He sighed. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault. It will be okay. I don’t know what else to say.”
“You could say I don’t have to do the class.”
“Oh, Jem, you’ve got to do the class. In fact, this Gina Grantley-Bond sounds—”
“Deranged?”
“No!” Dad laughed. “She sounds great. It says here she’s got lots of experience with…”
I stared at him.
“Young people. And look, she’s even worked with the British Paralympic team!”
“That could be a lie.”
Dad sighed. “I don’t think Mrs Savage would lie.”
“Well, you don’t know her. Anyway, I’m not doing the class because…” I thought of those boys again, and the words “Fat Club” echoing around the sports hall. “It’s illegal.”
He tutted. “Don’t be ridiculous! Of course it’s not illegal. The class is designed to help you.”
“Well, I don’t need that kind of illegal help. I can lose weight on my own in my bedroom.”
Dad looked sadly at me across the table. Probably remembering that time before I started at Clifton Academy, when I tried doing a high intensity workout from YouTube. Dad came running up the stairs saying it sounded like I was entertaining a herd of buffalo. Obviously, I didn’t try that again.
“Jemima, honestly, I think this is the best way. Get you some proper support…from, you know, a professional.” He signed the form at the bottom of the letter.
I looked at him like he was signing my death sentence.
“Don’t look at me like that! I’m sure you’ll enjoy it! It will be fun.” He was outright lying now. “You’ll make some new friends who, you know…understand what it’s like. You love learning facts and things, don’t you? You’ll just be learning about healthy things and not…quantum particles. Great timing with this kale soup, hey?”
Dad got up and stirred the bubbling pan of soup that apparently I’d be eating for dinner, probably for the rest of my life. “You know what? We should start playing basketball again! We’ve barely used that hoop since I put it up.” He patted his stomach. “I could do with getting back in shape myself! We’ll do it together.” He took out a teaspoon and tasted the soup. “Hmm, not too bad!”
I found out later that that was a lie too.
“Jemima, I know just having me isn’t the same as having a mum around. But…I am here…if you ever want to…you know. And you’ve got Luna!”
We both looked out of the steamed-up windows at Auntie Luna’s wooden cabin in the back garden. Dad built it ages ago after Uncle Alfie left her. Luna’s heart broke so badly she had to go to hospital. She’s okay now, but she has to live with us so Dad can make sure she doesn’t get poorly again. Also, Uncle Alfie emptied their bank account, so she didn’t have much choice. Luna says money’s not important. It can be replaced. But nothing can fix a broken heart because hearts are irreparable. I think she has the same empty feeling in her heart like I have about Mum. Only hers is Uncle-Alfie shaped.