Chapter 1
"RUBY!!" yelled Mum from downstairs. I groaned and snuggled under my bedcovers, hoping that if I squeezed my eyes shut hard enough, I would go back to sleep. But no. A few minutes later, I heard Mum's footsteps stomping furiously up the stairs and my door was opened with a loud BANG!
"Ruby!" Mum said again, like if she said my name it would be the magic word to get me out of bed. I didn't answer, but Mum wasn't having any of it. She yanked my duvet off me, and I whimpered as I felt all my body warmth rush away from me. She stormed out of my room, and left me shivering in bed (my mum's not really an angry person, but she has this weird thing for getting up on time). 99.9% of my brain told me to grab my duvet off the floor and curl up in bed again, but it was that strangely overpowering 0.1% that made me get up.
I picked up yesterday's school uniform and put it on without thinking. I must've stunk as bad as Dad after he gets back from the gym - yuck! The second I stepped into the kitchen I was attacked with stink bombs! They exploded everywhere and I nearly fainted from how bad it smelled. I knew straight away who it was - my annoying little brother Tom. I was basically shaking from a combination of rage and laughter, as I stumbled over to him and told him how hilarious but also infuriating he was.
Once we had opened all the windows and the stench had finally gone away, I started on my breakfast. I have NO idea why, but I cannot make toast to save my life! It's such a simple thing, yet I find it so hard! As I stood by the toaster, waiting for it to pop out, I was hopping from one foot to the other, worrying about TOAST. When they did go POP! and jumped in the air like me in a good mood, they came out as black as soot. I was furious. Aged 12, and still can't make my own toast.
I don't know why I didn't tell you sooner - I guess I went off on a tangent about stink bombs and toast - but I'm starting Year 8. It's not that much of a big deal, but yeah. I'm not going to be the smallest in the school anymore (yessss!). That's not even the best part, though, my birthday is tomorrow! 13 years old. Whoa. That's weird. Dad said when you become a teenager, you smell and all you can think to say is: "Ugh." My cousin Richie told me you feel the exact same as you did the day before (and yes, he doesn't even get excited on his birthdays). He won't be fifteen until January - so ha.
So anyway, Dad, Tom and I trudged down the garden path like a mini parade, as the gloomy, grey clouds drifted around lazily in the sky and a cool breeze pestered us. When Dad unlatched the gate, Tom and I took off at a sprint. I ran forwards, grabbed hold of the handle and yanked the door open. Just as I was ready to jump into the car and smirk at Tom, he cunningly slithered underneath my arm and plonked himself down on the seat. He was panting like a dog, but he was smirking at me as I reluctantly went to sit in the back.
Dad’s BMW pulled up outside my school. Tall, blue gates towered over me like skinny giants as I stepped out of the car. Tom rolled the window down and grinned cheekily before yelling,
“Bye, RUBY!” I cringed and stomped into school furiously after rolling my eyes at Tom. It took a while for me to find Darren and Damian (they’re in different places every morning). I hurried around school, my backpack thumping my back painfully.
Eventually, I found them, slumped on a bench in the corner of the courtyard. They were kicking around a Coke can covered in dirt - immature boys. Casually, I jogged over and sat down next to the two best - and only - friends I had.
As we carelessly kicked around the can, I thought about how I met Darren and Damian. My mum decided to join an NCT group when she was pregnant with me because my aunt Sophie had a really hard time when she was pregnant with Richie. She met Laura, who it turned out went to the same school as my mum, so when my mum and Laura had two children in the same month, Damian and I were basically siblings. As for Darren, I met him on the first day of primary school: a shy, lanky boy with a bowl hair cut. The three of us have been friends ever since.
When the bell rang out for registration, the three of us trudged to Mrs Williams’ classroom. “Good morning, Ruby!” she exclaimed as I followed my classmates into registration, avoiding eye contact with my tutor as much as possible. Mrs Williams was a plump lady in her mid-forties, who was just as eager to teach kids English as she was on her first day of teaching, even though everybody hated English.
My first two lessons dragged on as usual, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me as I was finally released from my Music lesson. I scanned the courtyard, searching for Darren and Damian. I couldn’t see them anywhere, just a circle of kids in one corner, all with their backs faced to me. Curiously, I hurried over and peered over the shoulder of an incredibly tall boy. I was horrified.
Damian had been pinned to the floor by a couple of boys while Ross, the school’s most infamous bully, had his arm raised above Damian’s head, about to take a swing at him. I couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.
“STOP IT, YOU DIRTY ANIMAL!” I screamed at the top of my voice. People parted either side of me, “ooh”ing and “aah”ing, so I could see Ross’ furious face perfectly. Slowly, he lowered his fist, turned round and smirked maliciously at me. Ross moved one step at a time, coming closer to me, his sarcastic laughter ringing out across the courtyard.
“ Come on Ruby, think of something!” my brain yelled.
“Go away Ruby!” shrieked Damian, who was still struggling in the firm grip of three boys two years older than him. However, I had a more pressing problem, the fact that Ross was raising his fist above my head, ready to swing a punch at me.
