the wipes) from the back seat.
I hand the food over. ‘I’ll have to wait until Dad and Alice and Baby are asleep before I sneak out, but these should keep you going.’
The boy grins. ‘Thanks, Squishy Taylor,’ he says.
‘See you in the middle of the night!’ I say, and run for the lift.
It’s not till I’m at our apartment door that I realise I never asked his name.
All through dinner, I’m burning with my secret.
Jessie and Vee aren’t talking to me, but I don’t care anymore. They sit down at the table in time, flicking their twin ponytails in time, scowling their twin scowls . Their mum Alice plonks spaghetti on the table while Dad gets everyone a glass of water.
Baby hits the table with his fat arms, drops broccoli on the floor and shouts.
This is what normal looks like now. I used to live with Mum, and Dad lived by himself. Then Dad moved in here, because of Alice having Baby. Then Mum got her job in Geneva and we decided I should stay here too. So now I’ve lived in Alice’s apartment for seven and a half weeks and it’s officially normal.
Dad told me that stepfamilies get a bad rap in fairy tales and maybe I should think of them as a bonus family instead. I don’t think they’re a bonus. They are about 95% annoying and 5% really, really annoying .
But tonight I don’t care because I’ve got a secret.
I suck spaghetti strands and smile at my fork.
After dinner, I grab the iPad before Jessie can. She scowls but says nothing. The only time I don’t have to fight for the iPad is when it’s time to skype Mum. I lie on my tummy on the floor and push my curls out of my face.
‘Hi, Squishy-sweet ,’ Mum says.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Let me just finish this sentence.’ She starts typing. Mum’s at work because it’s daytime in Geneva. She finishes with a flamboyant full stop, then looks at me again. ‘What’d you do today?’ she asks.
‘Um …’ The first thing I think of is the boy downstairs, but if I told her about him she’d probably tell Dad.
‘Um … I poured orange juice and flour in Vee’s schoolbag this morning,’ I say.
She groans. ‘Oh great. Poor Alice.’ But she has her sideways smile on. Mum was a rebel too, so she kind of likes that I am.
‘You should have seen the goop it made,’ I add, thinking gleefully of the dough all over her pencil case. ‘It was all … squishy! ’
She laughs. ‘Probably not the best way to make friends with your stepsisters, hey?’
‘I don’t want to be friends ! I’ve got friends at school. Did you know, Jessie spent an hour yesterday telling me how to do my homework –’
Just then, Jessie comes in. ‘Hi, Devika,’ she says to Mum, looking over my shoulder.
‘Hi, Jessie,’ Mum says.
‘How’s the UN?’ Jessie asks, as if she’s 100 years older than me, rather than five and a half months.
‘Oh,’ Mum sighs. ‘Bureaucratic. Huge. I don’t know.’
Jessie waves at Mum and heads over to her telescope by the window.
‘Well, how are your school friends?’ Mum asks me. ‘Bet they’re all wishing you’d get on a plane to Geneva.’
I grin. My school friends are one of the main reasons I stayed. ‘Nah. They’re good.’ But I don’t really want to talk to her in front of Jessie. ‘Love you,’ I say.
‘Love you too, Squish,’ she says, and her picture slides away.
‘Bedtime in seven and a half minutes!’ Alice yells.
Vee does a Kicking-Two-Jump-Scramble up to the top bunk. She’s such a show-off. Vee always invents new ways of getting up to the top bunk and then performs them like we should clap. When I try them, she does bigger-kid-snob face at me and pretends she’s better. Which makes it way less fun.
Jessie takes the iPad off me without asking. She checks her telescope and makes notes in her astronomy app. Then she folds her clothes into a neat square and slips into the bottom bunk.
‘Goodnight, Vee,’ Jessie says.
‘Goodnight, Jessie,’ Vee says.
They don’t say anything to me.
I hand the food over. ‘I’ll have to wait until Dad and Alice and Baby are asleep before I sneak out, but these should keep you going.’
The boy grins. ‘Thanks, Squishy Taylor,’ he says.
‘See you in the middle of the night!’ I say, and run for the lift.
It’s not till I’m at our apartment door that I realise I never asked his name.
All through dinner, I’m burning with my secret.
Jessie and Vee aren’t talking to me, but I don’t care anymore. They sit down at the table in time, flicking their twin ponytails in time, scowling their twin scowls . Their mum Alice plonks spaghetti on the table while Dad gets everyone a glass of water.
Baby hits the table with his fat arms, drops broccoli on the floor and shouts.
This is what normal looks like now. I used to live with Mum, and Dad lived by himself. Then Dad moved in here, because of Alice having Baby. Then Mum got her job in Geneva and we decided I should stay here too. So now I’ve lived in Alice’s apartment for seven and a half weeks and it’s officially normal.
Dad told me that stepfamilies get a bad rap in fairy tales and maybe I should think of them as a bonus family instead. I don’t think they’re a bonus. They are about 95% annoying and 5% really, really annoying .
But tonight I don’t care because I’ve got a secret.
I suck spaghetti strands and smile at my fork.
After dinner, I grab the iPad before Jessie can. She scowls but says nothing. The only time I don’t have to fight for the iPad is when it’s time to skype Mum. I lie on my tummy on the floor and push my curls out of my face.
‘Hi, Squishy-sweet ,’ Mum says.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Let me just finish this sentence.’ She starts typing. Mum’s at work because it’s daytime in Geneva. She finishes with a flamboyant full stop, then looks at me again. ‘What’d you do today?’ she asks.
‘Um …’ The first thing I think of is the boy downstairs, but if I told her about him she’d probably tell Dad.
‘Um … I poured orange juice and flour in Vee’s schoolbag this morning,’ I say.
She groans. ‘Oh great. Poor Alice.’ But she has her sideways smile on. Mum was a rebel too, so she kind of likes that I am.
‘You should have seen the goop it made,’ I add, thinking gleefully of the dough all over her pencil case. ‘It was all … squishy! ’
She laughs. ‘Probably not the best way to make friends with your stepsisters, hey?’
‘I don’t want to be friends ! I’ve got friends at school. Did you know, Jessie spent an hour yesterday telling me how to do my homework –’
Just then, Jessie comes in. ‘Hi, Devika,’ she says to Mum, looking over my shoulder.
‘Hi, Jessie,’ Mum says.
‘How’s the UN?’ Jessie asks, as if she’s 100 years older than me, rather than five and a half months.
‘Oh,’ Mum sighs. ‘Bureaucratic. Huge. I don’t know.’
Jessie waves at Mum and heads over to her telescope by the window.
‘Well, how are your school friends?’ Mum asks me. ‘Bet they’re all wishing you’d get on a plane to Geneva.’
I grin. My school friends are one of the main reasons I stayed. ‘Nah. They’re good.’ But I don’t really want to talk to her in front of Jessie. ‘Love you,’ I say.
‘Love you too, Squish,’ she says, and her picture slides away.
‘Bedtime in seven and a half minutes!’ Alice yells.
Vee does a Kicking-Two-Jump-Scramble up to the top bunk. She’s such a show-off. Vee always invents new ways of getting up to the top bunk and then performs them like we should clap. When I try them, she does bigger-kid-snob face at me and pretends she’s better. Which makes it way less fun.
Jessie takes the iPad off me without asking. She checks her telescope and makes notes in her astronomy app. Then she folds her clothes into a neat square and slips into the bottom bunk.
‘Goodnight, Vee,’ Jessie says.
‘Goodnight, Jessie,’ Vee says.
They don’t say anything to me.