Then the actual vomit started, all over my white Nike Air Maxes. I called the house phone, begging my mam to pick me up. ‘It’s not ya mam, it’s ya dad,’ said the voice at the other end of the line. ‘She’s already on her way and will be there in two minutes.’
‘How though, is she in a rocket, is she Mystic Meg? How did she know to come?’
‘Because she’s your mam and someone spotted you running around being a little idiot pissed as a fart in Shildon Park.’
When my mam arrived she didn’t speak to me for the whole car journey back. Instead I got home and drank lots of water while they finished their Chinese takeaway (the smell of which didn’t help my current condition: rat-arsed-itis). I spent the whole night throwing up in a washing-up bowl and crying. I was ill for the whole weekend. Not saying it put me off but I didn’t drink again until I was eighteen. I still went down the rec but I just drank the Panda Pop mixer minus the vodka.
I loved everything I learnt at Sunnydale. Including not drinking week-old warm alcohol, the skill of boning a corset in Textiles and of course how to MC. Now I understand that to some it might have looked like I was running away from the bullies and giving them what they wanted when I decided to change schools. I remember fearing that I had actually let them win. But the day I got my GCSE results was the day I knew I had beat the bullies. Not with violence or name-calling, but by being happy and succeeding. I ended up getting the second-highest grades for GCSEs in the whole school. I got fourteen GCSEs in total; yep, I took extra ones on just to prove a point. I got four A*s, and the rest were As, Bs and Cs (except maths which I had to redo three times at college before I got a C – but we won’t get into that).
See, I actually learnt a lot from my bullies. I learnt to grow a thicker skin. I learnt that words hurt so to try to always be kind, because blowing out someone else’s candles doesn’t make yours shine any brighter.
I actually bumped into one of the main bullies when I was out doing a weekly food shop recently. I hadn’t seen her in a decade yet I still felt nervous when I saw her face. I even went to go down a different aisle to avoid her, then I thought no, why should I run and hide? I’m not the one who did anything wrong. To my absolute surprise she approached me when she saw me. Full of smiles. ‘Hiya, Scarlett. Wow, I did not expect to bump into you today. You’re doing great. I was laughing the other week actually with my two little girls because thanks to you they think they have the coolest mam ever now they know their mam was friends with you at school.’
Now usually I would just smile, say ‘tell the girls I said hi’ and walk away. But she used the F-word, ‘friend’. I’ll be honest, I felt like ramming my basket into her shins (and I am not a violent person). How dare she use the word ‘friend’? Was she a friend when she came into the school with fake plastic teeth pretending to be me, shouting ‘Goofy’ at the top of her lungs in English class? Was she my friend when she and her crew would stare at me and laugh during lunch to the point where I ate my lunch in the toilets?
And then it just came out, before I could even stop myself: word-vomit. I told her what I was really thinking. ‘Why would your daughters think we were friends? We have never been friends. You bullied me for three years, you destroyed my confidence. I moved schools because of you and your gang.’
‘Oh, Scarlett, we were just kids then, it’s just kids’ craic.’
‘It might have just been kids’ craic to you, but let me tell you this. I pray and hope your two daughters never have to go through or deal with what I went through, because I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.’
And I meant that, I really wouldn’t want my worst enemy to feel that way. Before she even got a chance to reply I put down my basket in the middle of the aisle, walked out of the supermarket and felt like cheering.
I know some might think, well, you shouldn’t have gave her the satisfaction, but for me it was closure. See there’s an inspirational quote I like:
‘When people hurt you over and over, think of
them like sandpaper. They may scratch and hurt you
a bit, but in the end, you end up polished.’
Chapter Eight
DAD SAID I’M HIS FAVOURITE, SORRY
A Pennsylvania State University study revealed that by the time children turn eleven, they spend about 33 per cent of their spare time with their siblings.
Research revealed that 65 per cent of mothers and 70 per cent of fathers show a preference for one child over another (although no parents ever would admit to this).
Ava Gardner was married three times, to Frank Sinatra, Artie Shaw, and Mickey Rooney. Grace Kelly was the first ever actress to have her name on a US postage stamp, which appeared in 1993.
My little sister Ava Grace is my favourite person in the whole world and was born the same week I got my GCSE mock results. Without even realising it she makes me want to be the best I can ever be just so I know I do her proud.
Up until the moment she
