Totally Insane 30–Educations.
by Angharad

Merry Christmas Trish

Time seems to fly when you’re enjoying yourself, even the Romans knew that, Tempus fugit when beating the brown stuff out of the Gauls. I only know this because I was like reading some history the other day. I like history, it doesn’t have any surprises does it? Not like the present or the future. I mean take the other day, I knew it was going to be a good one when Brian actually paid back some of the millions he must owe me by now.

“Here, Sis, the money I owe you.” He handed me a ten pound note. “So we’re quits now.”

“Excuse me?” I looked at him angrily.

“That’s the money I owe you.”

“What about the rest?”

“You don’t need to rest, do you?” he asked.

“No, the rest of the money you’ve borrowed?”

“Like when? I borrowed that the other week when you were with Gemma–remember?”

“Yes, and before that?” I asked my voice becoming shrill.

“I can’t remember that far back, so you could be lying for all I know. Anyway, loan us a tenner,” and before I could say anything he snatched the one he’d just given me out of my hand and was gone. I was speechless.

The phone began to ring and I answered it, “Hello?”

“Hello, is your mother there?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Okay, I’ll ring later.”

“Who shall I say called?”

“The school secretary.”

“Can’t you just walk down the corridor and speak to her?”

“Is she here then?”

It suddenly occurred to me that this could be a different school. “Um–which school is that?”

“Emmeline Pankhurst School for Girls, which school did you think I meant?”

“Sorry, I got confused, can I ask her to call you back?”

“Of course–are you Kylie?”

My tummy flipped over, “Um–yes, why?”

“We wondered if you’d like to come in for the last couple of weeks of term, so next term you’ll have more idea of what it’s like here.”

“Um–I’ll ask Mummy to call you back later.”

“Okay, Kylie, bye for now.”

I felt a little drop of sweat run down my armpit–this was seriously going to compromise my time with Sarah, which is better than any old school–but I know Mummy won’t see it that way. I sent her a text.

She sent me one back: Don’t forget U have to see the Dr 2morrow. Love, Mum XXX. She doesn’t really do texting.

Oh poo, that’s two things to frighten me to death–the last visit to Dr Shrinkitoff was far from pleasant but she did promise to think about giving me some ’mones if I’m still running about in skirts next year. Now, the big question is–da–da–will I? How do I know? The way I feel about it, I probably will–but then, a girl is entitled to change her sex–um I mean, her mind. Whoops, bit of a Freudian slip there, whatever a freud is?

Fancy me thinking Brian would pay back his debts–if I say anything to Mummy, he’ll be very difficult to deal with in future and he does come in handy now and again. But then at his rates, I could probably buy in a professional bodyguard.

I need to decide what I’ll have to wear to the quack’s, that’s what Daddy calls doctors–not to their face, I’ll bet. I examined my expanding wardrobe, I probably had more girl’s clothes than boy ones, how quickly that has happened–just a few weeks against umpteen years–that is well scary. At this rate of expansion, by the time I get the magic pills, my wardrobe will cover most of the known world. I still won’t know what to wear–doh!

The weather was quite warm so I decided on a little blue number with lots of tiny bluebells over it, they’ve gone over now, but I enjoy seeing them in the park where they come up under the trees in a sort of wild part. It isn’t really, just deliberate neglect, but it has lots of insects and the odd squirrel there. Someone said it was part of an old orchard from some big house, but I thought orchards were full of apple trees and I don’t think there’s any there, except a crab apple. We used to have one of those in the garden until Mummy hit it with the car–she was learning to drive, I was only a baby, and she pressed the accelerator instead of the brake. The stump is still near the garage wall.

I don’t have a school uniform, and I’m sure the Emmie Pankhurst school has a uniform policy. Oh well that’s Mummy’s problem, I’d better get over to Aunt Em’s before it gets any later.

I clopped across the road in my new sandals–bit of a con job on Daddy when we last went into town, it’s like so easy to get him to spoil me. So I suppose he’s taken to having a daughter quite well. Gemma’s advice on twirling him around my little finger has been very useful. Mummy isn’t such a pushover, but she’s been a girl herself, so she knows all the ruses.

I spent the rest of the day with Auntie Em and Baby Sarah. I wore the little silver chain and matching earrings she gave me, and she noticed. Since I got my ears pierced, I’ve bought half a dozen pairs of earrings and had a few more given to me as presents. Gemma’s dad gave me some for sorting out the locks the night of her birthday party. Those were silver ones with small butterflies in little crystals, they looked like diamonds, but I don’t think they were.

Auntie Em an’ me took the baby out in her pram, we didn’t go near the park this time or the horrid footballers, mind you I think the football season is over now, so I s’pose they’d be playin’ cricket. I used to hate games ‘cos I was lousy at them, except badminton, and that’s only since I um–changed my sports clothes to the frilly knickers and tennis skirt. Common sense seems to tell me that is silly, as if playing in a skirt would improve my game over wearing shorts. So what else could it be?

I discussed this with Auntie Em at lunch and the conversation went something like this–“The school phoned today, they want me to go in for the last two weeks of term.”

“Your old school phoned?” asked Auntie Em.

“No, the new one–Emmie Pankhursts.”

“Ooh, very posh, so we’ll get to see you in your smart new uniform soon, that’ll be nice, won’t it, Sarah?” Sarah giggled because Auntie Em pulled a funny face as she spoke.

“You’ve seen me in that school uniform,” I pouted.

“Have I? Goodness, when was that?”

“The first time you saw me, when you gave me that bag of clothes from your sister–I undid your lock if you remember?”

“Oh goodness, I’d forgotten that. Of Course we did, didn’t we Sarah,” Auntie Em tickled her little foot and Sarah squealed–I hope my ears will recover one day.

“I wonder if they do sport there?” I pondered out loud.

“Course they will, probably netball, hockey, tennis, maybe badminton, some girls’ schools even do football and boxing these days.”

“Boxin’?–Yeewwch, and football is nearly as bad.”

“I don’t know if you have to do them, Kylie, but I suspect you’ll have to do one or the other.”

“Can you see me boxing or playing soccer–honestly, Auntie Em?”

“In these days of equality, anything is possible, Kylie.”

“Oh puuulllease, Auntie Em. Me? Boxing? That would be like Brian doing ballet.” She laughed and so did Sarah, I did so as well. The idea of me doing sport was ridiculous.

“But you were competing against boys, now you’d be against other girls–they’re not quite so rough.”

“I’ll bet they are in boxing–the sort of girl who goes in for it, is probably built like a brick sh…” I blushed, and Auntie Em smirked.

“Actually, Kylie, according to one article I read, women’s boxing, is to be included in the next Olympics.”

“That’s silly, girls aren’t meant to fight, that’s what boys do.”

“I think you might have a bit of an eye-opener when you go to a girls’ school full time.”

“What you’ve seen girls fighting, Auntie Em?” I asked in amazement.

“Oh yes, usually over boys, but sometimes over other things.”

“You didn’t fight, did you, Auntie Em?”

She blushed, “Well, only once and she had it coming to her.” She was blushing profusely as she spoke.

“Oh, do tell,” I grinned, I loved a bit of gossip.

“I was about your age and we had a real cow in our class, she used to trip me up and push me. She stole my gym kit once and even ate my sandwiches. One day she pushed me too far quite literally–it was into a wire fence surrounding the tennis courts and it ripped my coat. I was so mad because of what my mum was going to say, that I turned around and whacked her one with my brolly.”

“Where did you hit her?” this was exciting stuff.

“On the head.”

“Gosh, that can be like, dangerous.”

“I know Kylie, but I was so mad and it was all her fault, so if I had hurt her she only had herself to blame.”

“What did she do?”

“She went running to a teacher and I got detention for a whole week.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“That’s what I thought and I felt like belting her again, but she never bothered me after that, so I didn’t need to. It raised my profile in the school as one of the few girls who’d stood up to the bully and got away with it.”

“What happened then?”

“I was just more popular with the other girls and the other bullies left me alone.”

“So it worked out then?”

“I suppose so, but I wouldn’t want to do it again.”

“It was hardly a fight, though was it?”

“It scared me at the time, so I thought it was.”

“Yeah but boys kick and punch each other several times in one of their fights. I know Brian does.”

“Oh, girls can do that too–a catfight–where they grab hold of each other’s hair and pull it, or scram each other–that can go on for a while.”

“Crikey, I hope I don’t get into any fights, I don’t fancy anyone pulling my hair or scramming me.”

“I’m sure you won’t, Kylie, but it isn’t impossible, that’s all I meant to say.”

“Thanks for the warning, Auntie Em.” Maybe there wasn’t as much difference as I thought between boys’ and girls’ schools.

“What sport are you going to do?”

“I have no idea, maybe badminton?”

“Or tennis or cricket?”

“Cricket? I thought that was a boys’ game.”

“Well the England ladies team won the Ashes before the men’s team did.”

“Gosh, I don’t really want to do any sport–I’m rubbish at all of them–plus the problem of using the showers.”

“Lots of places have separate showers these days.”

“But if I don’t get all hot and sweaty in the first place, I won’t need them.”

“I don’t think you’ll have a choice, besides, sport is good for you.”

“Except, a shower could be kinda lethal to me if the others find out.”

“They’ll gossip about smelly Kylie if you don’t shower.”

“Let them.”

“I don’t think you understand how hurtful that can be in a girls’ school.”

“I’m used to it in a boys’ one.”

“But that was as a boy, Kylie, or trying to be one, this will be very different and very unkind. Most girls fight with their tongues and it can be very hurtful indeed.”

I really did wonder what I was getting into–I thought they’d all be like Gemma and the other girls at the sleepover, or like Karen. From what Auntie Em was saying I might be jumping from the frying pan into the fire. Was all this, such a good idea?

A bit later on, I told Auntie Em I had to go to start the dinner.

“What are you having?”

“Sausage and mash–same old boring same old.”

"It doesn't have to be boring, you know?"

“You can make it more interesting.”

“Of course you can, Kylie–any dish can be boring if you choose to make it so–or exciting.”

“How can I make it more exciting?” Auntie Em told me five or six ways I could make things more interesting so instead of plain ol’ sos and mash, I’m doing a sausage casserole with a garlic and onion sauce–it’s gravy really, but it sounds really tasty. She told me how to do it and I wrote some crib notes, especially with the gravy, but as well I part cook the spuds in the microwave and then slice them and finish the cooking on top of the sausages–like a hotpot, whatever that is? I’m going to call it sausage hotpot, see if anyone wants to argue after they’ve tasted it.

Gosh it was trickier than I thought, but I was nearly there–I just sliced the spuds and burnt my fingers–and put the spuds on the top of the sausages and popped it back in the oven. I was washing my incinerated fingers when Brian came in.

“Hmm, that smells good,” he said getting a can of Coke from the fridge.

“It’s taken me all afternoon,” I pouted, it wasn’t quite true, but then Brian couldn’t make toast even with a recipe.

“What is it?”

“The smell?”

“Yes, you dumb chick.”

“My burnt fingers.”

“Make a change from fish fingers–having said that, it’d be the same, wouldn’t it if they’re your fingers.”

“Eh? How d’you make that out?”

“Fish–another name for girls, innit.”

“Is it? First I’ve heard of it.”

“Some bloody woman you are then.”

“I’m new at this, Brian, you know that.”

“Oh well, I’ve just taught you something new then, haven’t I?”

Why did I know this wasn’t a very nice thing to learn? “Why are girls called fish?”

“Cos of the smell from their–um–you know.”

“Brian, that is revolting and none of the girls I know smell anything but sweet.”

“You wait, it’ll happen to you one day too.”

“Ugh, you are so revolting–and where’s my tenner?” He ran off to his room, and I wondered how I could forget what he’d just told me. He stank like–a–a dead pig. Half-a- hour later, I was still tutting at what he’d told me when I jumped as Mummy spoke behind me. “Oh, Mummy, you made me jump,” I shrieked.

“Calm down, girl, ooh that smells nice–I thought we were having bangers and mash.”

“Um–not quite.”

“Okay, darling, what are we having?”

“Sausage hotpot.” I puffed out my chest.

“Oh super, darling, are we having veg with it?”

“There’s veg in it.”

“Well do a few peas as well, there’s a good girl–I’m going for a shower, put the kettle on there’s a dear.” She kissed me on the cheek and I stood open-mouthed as she disappeared out of the door.

“There’s such a thing as child slavery, you know,” I shouted after her, but all she did was cackle back. I’ll bet she wouldn’t have got Brian to do any of this, fish or no fish.

I’d just managed to put some peas on to heat and made her a cuppa when she came down again. “Hmm, that does smell good, darling, did you make it up by yourself?”

“No, Auntie Em told me how to do it.”

“Still you had to do it, didn’t you?”

“I s’pose so.”

“I know so, darling.” She kissed me again, “And you know how to make me a cuppa–that is pure bliss.” I think I may have blushed.

“Do girls fight in your school?”

“Occasionally, not anywhere near as often as the boys–they’re always squabbling and hitting each other. Why?”

“Auntie Em told me they do fight sometimes.”

“Well yes, they do but it isn’t something I’d dwell upon, it’s quite uncommon.”

“I’d have thought fighting was very common.”

“No, it’s almost rare, or used to be.”

“But, aren’t girls who fight, common?”

She laughed, “In that sense, yes, you cheeky monkey.”

“Did you phone the school?”

“Oh yes, I rang Hanky-Pankies.”

“Hanky-Pankies?”

“Yes, that’s what we call it, being a grammar school it tends to think it’s above the rest, but it does get very good exam results.”

“Brian always calls it something beginning with W,” I ventured.

“I wouldn’t listen to anything Brian says, he tries to shock.”

“He did earlier.”

“Why, what did he say?”

“He called me fish.”

“Did he now, well I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you for many years, if ever.”

“I think it’s very common, Mummy–and it’s not nice.”

“I agree–don’t take any notice of Brian, he’s at that age–he’ll grow out of it one day.”

“When?”

“By the time he’s forty, I expect.” She laughed and that set me off.

“What about my uniform for the new school?”

“Yes, your father can take you tomorrow to get it, I have a list of all the things you’ll need.”

“You’re not taking me then?”

“I just said, Daddy’s taking you–I’ll take you to the clinic. What are you going to wear?” Then before I could answer, she said, “You could always wear your new uniform.”

“Um–but I…”

“Yes, you can wear your new uniform. C’mon then, let’s get this show on the road,” she said opening the oven door.

At breakfast the next day, Mummy told Daddy I was going to wear my new uniform to the clinic and she’d be so proud of me–she was also sure Dr Schlessinger would be too. Daddy seemed more interested in wondering how much everything would cost.

“Do I have to do sport?” I whined.

“Yes, and gym,” said my mother, “so you’ll need two leotards and tennis stuff.”

“For two weeks?” I gasped.

“Yes, Rosemary, this is going to be rather a lot for two weeks.”

“It’ll fit next term, she hasn’t grown in months, has she?”

So Mummy got her way and I had the indignity of trying on all of these things in the school outfitters shop. Daddy gave up counting after a thousand pounds–I could have got a new computer for that. All he did on the drive back was mutter, “Bloody women,” all the way home–the boot of the car was absolutely packed full of my school clothes.

I did think that I’d wind him up by saying, “I think I want to go back to being a boy, Daddy.”

“No way, kiddo, unless you wear this stuff while you do it.”

Damn, how did he just fend that off so easily?

We had lunch at home, Mummy came in as we were making tea, I’ll swear she can smell the pot. She made us a sandwich each and then sent me up to change into my new uniform. I donned the skirt and white blouse with the stripy tie. Why do girls want to wear ties, for God’s sake? I just got rid of my old one, dumped it in Brian’s room.

I felt hot in the blazer and the tie, sitting in the waiting room for Dr Shrinkwinkie, we were early and I could feel the sweat dripping down my underarm–so much for antiperspirants. I did sniff it once, but I couldn’t smell any fish.”

Thanks to Bonzi for allowing Gabi to edit this rubbish into some sort of readable rubbish.