Being Me Read Online Free

feeding time at the zoo. Today it’s OK. After a boring lesson about pointillism, Miss Dolphin allows us to paint flowers using little sponges. Stuff soon starts getting flicked across the room. By the time Miss puts dolphin music on, half of us are on our phones. I have a pic of Marcus on mine as my wallpaper. Mikaela sees it.
    ‘Who’s that?’ she asks. I can hear the jealousy in her voice. I sigh loudly to let her know that I know she’s gaming me.
    ‘He’s fit,’ she says. ‘You got the pic off Facebook. Your imaginary boyfriend is it? Give it here.’
    She grabs my phone off me. ‘Nice,’ she shouts, ‘a black boyfriend to go with your black gran.’ She starts waving my phone at the whole class. ‘Look! Adele Vialli is surrounded by imaginary black folk!’
    Afterwards everyone asked me why. Answer: she shouldn’t have dissed my gran.
    I grab her hair and she grabs mine. Then she’s wailing and thrashing on the floor. I cling to her.

    ‘Adele, look what you’ve done, you’ve ruined her hair!’
    Miss Dolphin is standing over us.
    It’s only as I push myself up from the floor that I see the clump of Mikaela’s braids in my hand. I can’t believe I’ve torn out so much of her hair.
    ‘Off! Now! To Remedial! Immediately!’ says Miss Dolphin, followed by, ‘Mikaela, you poor thing!’
    Mikaela is still on the floor, bawling and clutching her head.
    I pick up my bag and start walking out of the class as instructed.
    ‘Get back here!’
    I turn to go back to my place.
    As I turn, Mikaela rushes past me, still clutching her head.
    ‘Not you, I meant Mikaela,’ says Miss Dolphin to me. ‘You, Remedial!’
    I turn again and make the walk to Remedial. Why am I always the one to get the blame? I’ve had it up to here with Mikaela Robinson. Is it my fault she hasn’t got a boyfriend? She is a sad, sulky, jealous bitch.
    I really don’t mind Remedial. They let you doze here, so long as you’ve got headphones on and you’re listening to some Educational CD about something like the Fall of The Roman Empire. Everyone just whacks the volume down to zero and snoozes.
    I wonder about Mikaela again, what’s eating her. It’s like my mum and dad when they argue. What they’re arguing about is never what they appear to be arguing about. I decide she’s trying to get the school to ban me from playing so she has more chance of getting noticed. She’s sly like that.
    The bell goes for home-time. I bundle everything into my bag and join the crowds fleeing for the bus stops. When I get home nobody’s in, not even Mum. I imagine her staggering around outside an off-licence somewhere.
    In the bathroom, I look in the mirror. There’s a pink bruise above my right cheek and my lip is cut in one corner.
    I fall asleep. I wake up in a panic, thinking, I forgot to look for Mum. I find her. She’s back home, in bed, snoring.

CHAPTER 7
BENTLEYS & AFROS
    Next morning as I walk through the main doors, I’m stopped by a Teaching Assistant who takes me to the Counselling Room. He tells me to sit with my legs together, keeping my hands visible at all times. He obviously moonlights at prisons. The Counselling Room is also the Sick Bay. I’m guessing Friday morning is Year 7’s PE time because there’s three Year 7 fakers in here, all holding their noses or clutching their stomachs, while grinning at one another.
    I think about the war in the Middle East. I think about genetically modified foods and their effect on the food chain. I think about whether Beyoncé will ever split from Jay Z. I don’t think about why I’ve been told to wait here because I know.
    Miss Duras strides in. She runs Counselling, Sick Bay and Careers. A woman of many talents. She’s got Mikaela tucked behind her. My mouth drops for a moment. Mikaela’s hair is one huge Afro. I can’t help giggling.
    ‘Don’t laugh, bitch. I’m gonna stab you!’ says Mikaela, safe behind Miss Duras.
    ‘That’s enough. Sit down. Mikaela. Sit.’
    Miss