says Sorayah.
‘It does suck, Sorayah,’ says Miss, ‘on many levels. There are more subtle ways women are controlled. Think of all the insulting words used to describe women. They are often offensive words. Does anybody know any?’
‘Can we say them, Miss?’ says Sorayah. The whole class leans in waiting for the answer.
‘Go ahead,’ Miss says.
The class erupts into swear words like fireworks going off on Bonfire Night.
Everyone’s jumping around, screaming out. I’m on my chair, giving it large. I drag Mikaela up on hers and we shoot off a dozen swear words. Sorayah’s under her desk, killing herself with tears, even Jennifer’s loosened her tie and is wagging a finger at each classmate saying bad words. Half the class are volleying the words at Mrs Richards, pointing at her as they shout. It’s like a heavy metal concert, but madder, and Mrs Richards is the lead singer. I catch Mikaela’s totally belly-ache laughing. She’s not miserable now. I knew PSHE wouldn’t let us down.
Finally Mrs Richards calls a halt. Everyone sits down again and there’s silence.
‘C*nt!’ someone whispers.
‘We’ve had that one,’ says Miss. ‘Any new words?’
‘Blonde. Meaning dumb?’ goes Jennifer.
‘Excellent, Jennifer.’
‘I’m going to tell my dad you’re teaching us all men are dickheads!’ Sorayah calls out.
‘Tell him we’re trying to change the world so his daughter has an equal chance in life,’ Mrs Richards answers.
‘I prefer “all men are dickheads”, Miss,’ insists Sorayah. Everyone agrees.
The bell goes.
‘Your homework!’
Everyone groans.
‘I want you to answer the question: Why are women given impossible ideals of beauty to live up to, like in the pictures? Is it our choice? Is it advertising? Is it innocent fun? Your answers should include a mention of “Patriarchy” P.A.T.R.I.A.R.C.H.Y.’
There’s more groans.
Me and Mikaela join the mad scramble in the corridors and charge through the car park then out of the school grounds. The sun’s blazing. There’s loads of parents’ cars lined up on the street as usual. We walk together towards the bus stop. I’m guessing that, because Mikaela’s dad’s run off, presumably with their Bentley, Mikaela will have to catch the bus home, like me. I chat and chat and chat to Mikaela so she can’t even think about this.
‘PSHE was well good wasn’t it? How to spot fake Supermodels!’
‘Yeah. What are we meant to have?’ Mikaela goes. ‘Tiny waists, long legs, big boobs?’ She prods me, playfully. ‘You’ve got two out of three, Adele, I’ve got none, it’s not fair. I’ve got a really fat arse. Mum calls it my African bum, but I know it’s fat.’
‘I thought boys liked that? A Brazilian booty? Isn’t it meant to be sexy?’
‘Yeh. That and shaved pubes, I think. But I mean, really? Shaved pubes must be well scratchy!’
We giggle.
‘Mum says boys are all a waste of time anyway. Sister, I’m telling ya, forget men, it takes a woman to make a revolution!’
I laugh and try to keep us laughing as we walk along an endless row of parents’ cars. Then I spot a Bentley and Mikaela’s mum’s waving to us from the driver’s seat of it. ‘Look!’ I shout to Mikay.
Mikay leaps in the air. She gives me a quick high five then dashes to her mum.
Thinking about Mikaela (her slogans, her rhymes, her African bum, her neat passing skills, and her tears of laughter in PSHE) has me feeling good on the bus home.
Three Different Ways Mikaela Is Good To Me.
SHE SAT NEXT TO ME ON DAY ONE AT SCHOOL AND HAS SAT NEXT TO ME EVER SINCE.
SHE RINGS ME BACK WHEN I SILENT CALL HER BECAUSE SHE KNOWS I ONLY DO IT WHEN I DON’T HAVE CREDIT.
SHE HUGS ME FOR NO REASON SOMETIMES.
I think about the PSHE lesson a bit more. Then, as I get nearer home, I start thinking about my mum.
CHAPTER 12
DOUBLE TROUBLE
It’s Saturday and I get up early. The kitchen’s a mess. There’s a burnt out candle on the
‘It does suck, Sorayah,’ says Miss, ‘on many levels. There are more subtle ways women are controlled. Think of all the insulting words used to describe women. They are often offensive words. Does anybody know any?’
‘Can we say them, Miss?’ says Sorayah. The whole class leans in waiting for the answer.
‘Go ahead,’ Miss says.
The class erupts into swear words like fireworks going off on Bonfire Night.
Everyone’s jumping around, screaming out. I’m on my chair, giving it large. I drag Mikaela up on hers and we shoot off a dozen swear words. Sorayah’s under her desk, killing herself with tears, even Jennifer’s loosened her tie and is wagging a finger at each classmate saying bad words. Half the class are volleying the words at Mrs Richards, pointing at her as they shout. It’s like a heavy metal concert, but madder, and Mrs Richards is the lead singer. I catch Mikaela’s totally belly-ache laughing. She’s not miserable now. I knew PSHE wouldn’t let us down.
Finally Mrs Richards calls a halt. Everyone sits down again and there’s silence.
‘C*nt!’ someone whispers.
‘We’ve had that one,’ says Miss. ‘Any new words?’
‘Blonde. Meaning dumb?’ goes Jennifer.
‘Excellent, Jennifer.’
‘I’m going to tell my dad you’re teaching us all men are dickheads!’ Sorayah calls out.
‘Tell him we’re trying to change the world so his daughter has an equal chance in life,’ Mrs Richards answers.
‘I prefer “all men are dickheads”, Miss,’ insists Sorayah. Everyone agrees.
The bell goes.
‘Your homework!’
Everyone groans.
‘I want you to answer the question: Why are women given impossible ideals of beauty to live up to, like in the pictures? Is it our choice? Is it advertising? Is it innocent fun? Your answers should include a mention of “Patriarchy” P.A.T.R.I.A.R.C.H.Y.’
There’s more groans.
Me and Mikaela join the mad scramble in the corridors and charge through the car park then out of the school grounds. The sun’s blazing. There’s loads of parents’ cars lined up on the street as usual. We walk together towards the bus stop. I’m guessing that, because Mikaela’s dad’s run off, presumably with their Bentley, Mikaela will have to catch the bus home, like me. I chat and chat and chat to Mikaela so she can’t even think about this.
‘PSHE was well good wasn’t it? How to spot fake Supermodels!’
‘Yeah. What are we meant to have?’ Mikaela goes. ‘Tiny waists, long legs, big boobs?’ She prods me, playfully. ‘You’ve got two out of three, Adele, I’ve got none, it’s not fair. I’ve got a really fat arse. Mum calls it my African bum, but I know it’s fat.’
‘I thought boys liked that? A Brazilian booty? Isn’t it meant to be sexy?’
‘Yeh. That and shaved pubes, I think. But I mean, really? Shaved pubes must be well scratchy!’
We giggle.
‘Mum says boys are all a waste of time anyway. Sister, I’m telling ya, forget men, it takes a woman to make a revolution!’
I laugh and try to keep us laughing as we walk along an endless row of parents’ cars. Then I spot a Bentley and Mikaela’s mum’s waving to us from the driver’s seat of it. ‘Look!’ I shout to Mikay.
Mikay leaps in the air. She gives me a quick high five then dashes to her mum.
Thinking about Mikaela (her slogans, her rhymes, her African bum, her neat passing skills, and her tears of laughter in PSHE) has me feeling good on the bus home.
Three Different Ways Mikaela Is Good To Me.
SHE SAT NEXT TO ME ON DAY ONE AT SCHOOL AND HAS SAT NEXT TO ME EVER SINCE.
SHE RINGS ME BACK WHEN I SILENT CALL HER BECAUSE SHE KNOWS I ONLY DO IT WHEN I DON’T HAVE CREDIT.
SHE HUGS ME FOR NO REASON SOMETIMES.
I think about the PSHE lesson a bit more. Then, as I get nearer home, I start thinking about my mum.
CHAPTER 12
DOUBLE TROUBLE
It’s Saturday and I get up early. The kitchen’s a mess. There’s a burnt out candle on the
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