My phone beeped with Miki’s reply:
Okay
If I’d known what was going to happen at school that morning, I’d have slammed my hand on the STOP button above my head. But it would have been pointless. Our bus driver ignores it when people do that. It’s like my Auntie Luna says, you cannot escape your destiny. Jasper said she stole it from Star Wars. I think Star Wars stole it from this ancient Greek writer called Sophocles. Anyway, it’s true. And unfortunately, that day, my destiny was the equivalent of a giant sinkhole.
Miki was sitting on the wall by the gates as my bus pulled into the school car park. His black hair was flopping into his eyes even though he’d said he’d had it cut and his hoodie was poking out from underneath his blazer. I raised my hand to wave at him, but as I stepped off the bus someone shouted, “Oi! Don’t cause an earthquake!” The sun was in my eyes, so I couldn’t see his face, but I recognized the voice. Dylan Taylor. He was in a different Year Eight form, and I didn’t have any lessons with him, but any time he spotted me around school, he usually shouted something.
Jasper stopped walking and looked back at me. Most of the time my brother is extremely annoying, but sometimes he checks I’m okay. And that’s when it’s hard not to cry. I didn’t care about Dylan and his limited understanding of plate tectonics, but everyone nearby stopped and stared, which made it feel like there was an earthquake happening. Inside my heart. And no one could feel it apart from me. (And maybe my left ventricle.)
“Hey,” Miki said, scraping his fringe to one side. “Ignore him. That boy’s an idiot.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said, drawing in a deep breath to make sure no tears came out. “No one causes a seismic wave just by getting off a bus.”
Miki smiled and we joined the crowd heading towards the hall for assembly.
Mr Nelson, our form tutor, welcomed us back, handed out our new timetables and reminded us to stand in a perfectly straight line. He didn’t make us stand in alphabetical order like some teachers, so I walked quickly to the front so I could get a seat at the end of a row. I hated sitting in the middle, because they hook the chairs together so my legs squish over the sides and the metal digs in.
“Mrs Savage’s eyes are shooting death rays already,” Miki whispered as we walked in to the hall.
Immediately, her eyes fixed on Miki. She must have really good hearing, like a moth. They can hear the highest frequency of sound. Hearing like that helps you evade predators. It’s the kind of hearing that would be really useful at my school.
“Good morning!” Mrs Savage said when everyone had settled down. “I hope you’re all looking forward to another exciting year at Clifton Academy!” She welcomed the new Year Sevens then reminded us of the school motto, like any of us could forget. It was on the wall of every classroom and even in the toilets. Like she still expected us to “aspire to achieve” on the loo.
“Now,” she continued, “I have some very exciting news! Who has heard of the television programme Brainiacs?”
My ears pricked up. I’d been watching Brainiacs ever since I was little. It was on every Boxing Day. I always knew loads of the answers, which majorly annoyed Jasper. A sea of hands went up, but not mine. It was my favourite show, but when you’ve got arms the size of mine you don’t put them up in assembly.
“For those of you who haven’t,” Mrs Savage said, “it’s a competitive quiz show where the brightest young minds in Britain battle against each other to win the coveted Brainiacs trophy and five thousand pounds for your school!”
A ripple of excitement travelled round the hall. Mr Nelson smiled and raised his eyebrows at me. He was probably thinking of all the history books he could buy with five thousand pounds.
“Isn’t that the show you like?” Miki whispered and I nodded.
Mrs Savage waved at the IT person and a clip from last year’s Brainiacs started playing on the screen. The presenter, Dexter Riley, was asking a boy called William to multiply the atomic numbers of gold and zinc.
“Two thousand, three hundred and seventy!” I called out, then clapped my hand over my mouth.
The people in front of me turned round and Miki snorted. I felt completely stupid, even though my answer was correct.
The clip finished with a girl called Tika holding the trophy in the air. She held the record for the highest score in Brainiacs history.
Mrs Savage put her hand up for everyone to be quiet. “This year, students from over fifty schools will be competing for the fifteen places on the show and you’ll be delighted to learn that Clifton Academy will be one of them!”
Mrs Savage clapped and the whole room joined in. I felt butterflies in my stomach. Or, more accurately, the neurons along my brain-gut axis went berserk. I had the chance to be on Brainiacs?
“Isn’t that exciting?” For once I agreed with Mrs Savage. “The competition is open to people aged ten to thirteen, so Lower School – that means you! The qualifying test will be held right here on Thursday lunchtime next week. You don’t have to enter of course, but I would like to see lots of our bright sparks trying their luck!” She signalled to the IT person again and the Brainiacs website appeared on the screen. “If you would like to put yourself forward, your parents must download the consent form from the website here and email it to the office. I am certain Clifton Academy will make for some tough competition!”
Everyone clapped again and Mrs Savage did a fist pump. Teachers should not be allowed to do that.
Miki tugged the sleeve of my blazer and whispered, “Oh my God, Jemima! You can so get on Brainiacs!”
Tiny pulses of energy fired through my brain. Could I really get on Brainiacs? I looked across at the rows and rows of people sitting in the hall. I wondered if any of them liked Brainiacs as much as I did. Just then, someone behind me poked my shoulder and pointed at Jasper sitting a few rows back. He mouthed, “Brainiacs!” then gave me a thumbs up. Jasper thought I could do it?
I turned back round and my heart suddenly felt kind of warm. I’d been shouting Brainiacs answers at the TV every Boxing Day for as long as I could remember. It was practically part of our Christmas tradition, like soggy sprouts and Nana’s gingerbread angels and Jasper showing off non-stop. I could barely breathe I felt so excited. I looked down our row again then accidentally locked eyes with Lottie Freeman. She was one of the bright sparks that Mrs Savage had been talking about. Lottie definitely has a brain, but unfortunately she seems to be missing another vital organ. She smirked at me, then filled her cheeks up with air. It was her way of calling me fat without getting into trouble.
I made a face at Lottie like I didn’t care what she said. But when she looked away, I folded my arms and squashed in my stomach, surprised I could forget about something so completely enormous even for one second. The group picture of last year’s Brainiacs contestants was up on the screen. All of them smiling. All of them normal-sized. None of them looked like me. I told myself it didn’t matter, and tried to ignore the million doubts gathering in my brain telling me that maybe it did.
Miss Nisha, our drama teacher, stood up to tell everyone about the Lower School Christmas production and Miki practically gave me a dead arm in his excitement about it. Afterwards, Mr Nelson reminded our year about the camping trip that was happening at the end of October. He’d told us about it before we broke up for the summer and now the screen projected a picture of five people almost capsizing on a raft. Your outdoor adventure begins! it said underneath. I tried not to groan out loud.