Sophie Bennett Saves the Planet Page 3

  To be honest, I’m not sure if I’m getting this right. ‘Are you going out with Nelson Cooke?’ I say.

  Eliza’s eyes fix on me. ‘Yep,’ she says. ‘Why?’

  Personally, I’d want to know if my supposed boyfriend had been at the swimming pool all afternoon snogging some other girl. To me, the truth is important. Really important, even if it hurts. Because if you don’t know the truth, how can anything feel real? But I also know that not everyone thinks like this. ‘I just didn’t know that,’ I say, lamely.

  Finally dinner ends and I start cleaning up. It’s just automatic because it’s what I do at home. But Daphne acts like I’ve sprouted wings and started to float. ‘How kind of you, Sophie,’ she says. ‘Eliza, could you help? That way I can get the boys bathed at a reasonable hour for once.’

  Eliza shoots me yet another dirty look. Seriously, I can’t do anything right.

  We take the dishes to the kitchen and start cleaning up in silence. Eventually Eliza flicks on the radio and I start humming along.

  Eliza looks at me. ‘Do you actually know any of these songs?’ she says.

  ‘Well, no,’ I admit. ‘But they’re not that complicated to pick up.’

  Eliza does one of her lovely snorts and shakes her head. Frankly, I’m getting a little tired of Eliza’s snorts and eyerolls and glares.

  I dump the tea towel I’m holding and put my hands on my hips. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just that you’re so incredibly weird,’ says Eliza. ‘Everyone at school thinks so. Do you know that?’

  Of course I know. I’m the one who has to turn up every day on a bike decorated with ribbons, after all. I’m the one who never has the right brand of runners for sport. I’m the one whose lunch is a daily joke. But right now I’ve had about as much as I’m prepared to take from Eliza.

  ‘Do you want to know what I think is really weird?’ I say. ‘I think it’s really weird that Nelson Cooke was at the pool this afternoon, kissing some girl who was definitely not you.’

  Eliza freezes, an empty pizza box in her hand. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she says. She sounds like there’s something stuck in her throat. ‘You’re just making it up.’

  Straight away I feel bad. Terrible. I pick up the tea towel and get busy drying an already-dry plate. ‘Well, maybe I made a mistake,’ I mumble. But I can’t look at her because I know I didn’t make a mistake and I’m terrible at lying.

  Daphne comes in just then. ‘The boys are squeaky clean and I’ve promised them dessert,’ she says in that chirpy way of hers. ‘Do you girls feel like some ice-cream?’

  Eliza shakes her head robotically. ‘I don’t feel well,’ she says. ‘I’m going to bed.’ Then she runs out of the room, head down, and a moment later her bedroom door clicks closed.

  Daphne looks at me, surprised. ‘I wonder what’s wrong with her?’ she says.

  I pick up the pizza box Eliza dropped so I don’t have to look at Daphne. ‘I don’t know,’ I say quietly.

  Daphne gets the boys some ice-cream and they go and eat it in front of the TV. She invites me to join them but I don’t really feel like sitting there, watching some kiddie show. I fill in some time warming up milk for Poss and then feeding her with the pipette. Every time I feed her she drinks more, which is good.

  After that I decide to take a shower. It’ll give me something to do and also save me time in the morning when everyone wants to use the bathroom. The only problem is that all my shower stuff is in Eliza’s room. I stand in the hallway outside her room for a minute, and once I’ve worked up the courage, I slowly open the door. The room is in darkness and I can vaguely make out a shape on Eliza’s bed. She must be asleep. I grope my way over to my bed and somehow manage to put Poss in the pet carrier, glad that I thought to put a hot water bottle in it back at home. Then there’s some more feeling around until I find my bathroom stuff and finally I creep back out of the room again.

  The Mitchells’ bathroom looks like a department store. I’ve never seen so many bottles of shampoo and conditioner in my life. There are at least five different tubes of half-finished toothpaste, plus a whole shelf of perfumes and body sprays. The shower is over the bathtub, and I’m undressed and about to turn on the water when I notice something resting on the side of the bath. It’s a razor – one of those plastic, disposable ones.

  I pick the razor up and examine it. I’ve never actually held one of these before. Dad has a beard so he doesn’t have to shave, and Mum would never buy something you’re supposed to throw away after one or two uses. There’s a plastic thing over the head that slides off easily. Underneath are two blades just a few millimetres apart. They look very sharp. I look down at my legs, which are covered with light brown hairs. The hair isn’t really obvious – or at least I never thought it was – until you start looking for it. Then I look back at the razor in my hand. It seems like a crazy thing to do – drag this dangerous-looking thing across your body. Which way are you supposed to drag it, anyway – up or down? I think it’s mainly curiosity that makes me try it in the end. I tell myself I’m being an anthropologist again.

  First thing I do is double-check that the door is locked. The last thing I want is someone walking in on me. Then I balance one foot on the edge of the bath. I put the razor down near my ankle and very slowly pull it up the front of my leg. I’m not sure how far up I’m supposed to go so I stop just under my knee.

  When I inspect my leg I can see a hair-free path. It’s like when someone pushes a mower through long grass. It’s weird, because I couldn’t feel anything happening at all. It didn’t pull or hurt or anything like that. There’s no blood either, which means I didn’t cut myself, I guess. I check the razor. A whole lot of hairs are sticking out between the two blades.

  My leg looks dumb with just one hair-free stripe, so I decide to keep going. It’s fun, in a weird way – kind of like painting, but in reverse. It gets a little tricky around my ankle but I take those bits extra carefully and it’s fine. By the time I’ve finished one leg, the razor is pretty gunked up with hair so I rinse it off under the tap, making sure I swish all the hairs down the plughole. The second leg is quicker to do because I’ve got the hang of it by then.

  In less than five minutes both my legs are smooth, shiny and hair-free. It’s funny how good I feel. Lighter or something. Finally I stand in front of the mirror and lift up my arm. A few strokes and you’d never know there’d been hair there at all.

  I hop into the shower. As the water falls over me I run my hands down over my legs. They feel so different – super smooth and sleek. Like they belong to someone else.

  After the shower I get into my PJs and head back to Eliza’s room. It’s still in darkness, which is fine by me. It’s only about eight-thirty so it’s earlier than I normally go to sleep, but bed feels like the best option. I don’t really want to get stuck in the lounge room with Daphne.

  The air mattress wobbles and squeaks every time I move. I lie very still, feeling uncomfortable and alone.

  I’m just drifting off when I hear a strange noise. It takes me a while to figure out what it is: Eliza is crying. The sound is muffled – like she’s doing it under her pillow or the doona.

  ‘Eliza? Are you all right?’ Somehow it’s easier to talk to her in the dark. To tell her I feel bad about what happened in the kitchen. ‘I’m sorry about what I said. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.’

  Okay, so Eliza hasn’t exactly been the friendliest person to me, but it’s still awful to think that I might be the reason she’s crying. Me and my big, fat, truth-telling mouth. The crying suddenly stops but Eliza doesn’t reply. Maybe she’s fallen asleep. Or maybe she just doesn’t want anything to do with me.

  I lie there, not sure if I should keep talking or just shut up. The noise finally stops, and after a while I hear Eliza breathing in a way that I know means she’s asleep.

  But I’m now wide-awake. My eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and when I hear Poss stir in her pet carrier, I take her on my lap to
give her some more milk and a pat. Mum has told me a million times that it’s not a good idea to treat a wild animal like a pet. You want the animal to stay wild, and being wild means being wary of humans. But I can’t help myself. Poor Poss. At least my parents are only away. She has no-one.

  I wake up very early the next morning, itching. It feels like my legs are on fire and the more I scratch them, the worse they get. Finally I can’t stand it any longer and sneak out to the bathroom to see what the problem is.

  When I flick on the bathroom light, I nearly die. My legs are totally covered in a red, bumpy rash. I have the kind of skin that gets a mark just from lightly brushing against something, and because I’ve been scratching at my legs for hours, they are both a mass of lines and welts. It’s not a good look.

  My first thought is that I’ve caught something contagious. Chickenpox or measles or something. I’m even a tiny bit glad because surely my parents will have to come home if I’m sick. Then I discover the same red bumps under my arms and the truth finally dawns on me. I’m not sick. This must be a shaving rash.

  I feel like an idiot. Like the world is laughing at me for trying to be more like everyone else. A bit more ordinary. Ha ha. As if.

  I sneak back into bed, being very quiet. The last thing I want is for Eliza to turn on the lights and see my spotty legs. But there’s no chance of going back to sleep, either. I lie there, trying to work out how I’m going to keep the rash hidden from everyone. At this time of year we can choose between wearing our winter uniform to school (which has tights) or our summer one (bare legs with socks). Luckily I grabbed both last night when I was packing my bag. Obviously I’ll have to wear the winter one now, which will be okay so long as it’s not too hot.

  When I check my phone again it’s 6 a.m. so I get up and quickly put on my winter uniform. I grab the pet carrier and close the door behind me when I leave the room. The whole house is silent.

  In the kitchen I feed Poss and then search around for something for myself. At the back of a cupboard I find an unopened packet of oats, so I make some porridge. I’m just putting it into a bowl when someone behind me says, ‘What’s that?’ It’s the smaller boy – Oscar – dressed in his PJs with his hair standing up all over the place. He’s kind of cute now that he’s not trying to kill his brother.

  ‘It’s porridge,’ I say. ‘You know – like the three bears eat. Want to try some?’

  Oscar slides into a chair. ‘Okay,’ he says.

  I put a small scoop into a bowl for him and slice up a banana that I’ve found in the mostly empty fruit bowl. Then I drizzle on a tiny bit of honey and pour on some milk.

  Oscar sniffs at it then takes a tiny mouthful. He nods. ‘It’s good!’ he says.

  A few minutes later Daphne comes in. She stares at Oscar’s bowl in surprise. ‘Are you eating banana?’ she says. Then she looks at me like I’ve performed some kind of miracle.

  ‘It’s not banana,’ corrects Oscar. ‘It’s porridge. Like the three bears eat. And Sophie is Goldilocks.’

  Daphne laughs. ‘Well, you’re officially on breakfast duty, Goldilocks,’ she says to me.

  I shrug. ‘Sure,’ I say. I like cooking. At home I never get to make breakfast. My mum is up really early to do her yoga and by the time I get up, breakfast is already laid out and waiting. It’s nice to get a chance to do it for once.

  When Thomas comes out and sees what Oscar’s eating, he wants some too and I end up making more. I don’t mind, though. Feels like I’m doing something right around here at last, and it also takes my mind off my itchiness.

  It’s not until Daphne hands me a bag with my lunch in it and says, ‘Okay, gang, it’s time to go!’ that I realise Eliza hasn’t surfaced yet. She finally appears when we’re literally walking out the front door. She flicks her hair over her shoulder as she walks past me and I suddenly feel stupid for worrying about making her cry.

  I take Poss back to my room. We’re not allowed to bring animals to school, but at the last minute I change my mind and hide Poss in her pouch under my jumper. Maybe I’ll get in trouble, but it’s worth the risk if it means I can keep her safe with me all day.

  When I get outside, the Mitchells have all piled into Daphne’s huge people mover. The engine is running. Daphne winds down the window. ‘Coming with us?’

  I shake my head and point to where my bike is leaning. ‘No, thanks. I’ll ride.’

  ‘Mum,’ says Thomas from the back seat. ‘Oscar keeps undoing his seatbelt.’

  ‘I don’t want a dumb belt!’ Oscar yells.

  Daphne tries pleading with him, which doesn’t work, and for some reason I hear myself saying, ‘How about I do it for you, Oscar?’ I’m not expecting it to make any difference but, to my astonishment (and probably to everyone else’s), Oscar lets me. I get another grateful look from Daphne. I’m fully expecting another glare from Eliza, but she’s focused on her phone.

  Eventually Daphne drives away and I head off on my bike. I’m starting to think this is going to be the longest week of my life.

  Leni is at training before school today and Anya’s not here yet. I hate mornings like this, when neither of my best friends are around. It makes me remember what it was like in the first couple of weeks of high school when I didn’t really know anyone and spent all the breaks alone or in the library. At least I’ve got Poss, though, hidden away beneath my jumper.

  I’m just feeding Poss some milk on a bench in a quiet spot near the library when Erin comes around the corner. Her face lights up when she sees Poss.

  ‘Oh my god, that is so cute!’ she says, sitting beside me. ‘Where did it come from?’ I tell her Poss’s story and explain how I’m nursing her just until she’s strong enough to fend for herself. ‘You poor little thing,’ says Erin, leaning in and talking softly to Poss. ‘What were you doing at the pool, anyway?’

  ‘They’ve got some big trees there,’ I say. ‘And I guess as more and more bushland gets cleared away the animals have to live wherever they can.’

  Erin sits up straight and frowns. ‘That’s terrible!’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘I wish I could do something,’ Erin sighs.

  ‘You could come to the Save the Forest rally,’ I say. ‘It’s in town on Saturday.’ To be honest, it’s not a serious suggestion so I’m surprised when Erin jumps on it.

  ‘That’s a great idea! Are you organising a group from school? Because I’d definitely come.’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t really planning to,’ I say. The thing is, earlier in the year I did try to get people together for a rally. But hardly anyone showed and I ended up feeling stupid. But Erin won’t let the idea go.

  ‘Let’s meet at lunchtime,’ she says. ‘We should make a banner or something like that. So everyone knows where we’re from.’

  ‘Just you and me?’ I say doubtfully. ‘Won’t we look a bit dumb?’

  ‘No, we’ll tell everyone about it,’ says Erin. ‘I bet lots of people will be interested in coming.’

  I’m not nearly so sure.

  Someone’s hands wrap around my eyes. ‘Guess who?’ There’s only one person who ever does this.

  ‘Hmm … Anya?’ I say.

  The hands fly away and Anya bounces in front of me, grinning. She’s been a lot happier since her parents finally sold their house. And it’s amazing how well she’s doing in maths, too. She still refuses to do any maths competitions but Leni and I are both working on her.

  ‘What are you guys talking about?’ she asks.

  ‘Soph is organising a group for the forest rally on Saturday,’ says Erin. I never actually said I would organise anything, but Erin’s still talking. ‘You guys will come, won’t you?’

  Anya shakes her head. ‘Not this time. Anyway, Soph can save the forests without my help, can’t you, Soph?’ Then she raises her arms up in the air like she’s making an announcement to a huge crowd. Or like she’s a magician. ‘Watch while my friend, Sophie Bennett, single-handedly saves the entire planet!’
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br />   Erin and I crack up – it’s impossible not to when Anya’s on a roll – just as Leni arrives, along with Adam and Josh. Leni’s friend Jo is with them too. She has her camera slung around her neck as usual.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Josh asks.

  Erin explains about the rally. ‘Can we count you guys in?’ she asks.

  ‘I’m already going,’ says Jo. ‘With my mums.’ The first time I heard Jo talk about having two mums, I thought it was really strange. It’s funny how normal it seems to me now.

  ‘What about the rest of you?’ asks Erin.

  ‘Sure, I’d love to go,’ says Josh. And I swear he looks right at me as he says it. My ‘like’ gauge goes berserk.

  ‘What about you, Adam?’ says Erin.

  Adam shrugs. ‘I’m not sure,’ he says. ‘I’ve already got plans on Saturday.’ He looks at me curiously. ‘Don’t you get tired of always organising things and protesting about stuff?’ he asks.

  Anya wraps her arm around me. ‘Are you kidding?’ she says. ‘Soph lives for this kind of thing, don’t you, Soph? If she didn’t have protests to organise she wouldn’t know what else to do with her time.’

  ‘I bet it’s more that she knows if she doesn’t do it, no-one else will,’ says Jo. She’s right. I can think of lots of things I’d rather do than spend my lunchtimes making banners and handing out flyers.

  ‘Hey,’ says Erin suddenly. ‘You should do a thing for assembly. Like the one you did when you were trying to change the canteen food.’

  A couple of months ago I did this campaign to try to get more ethical and Fairtrade food into the canteen. I don’t feel right eating something that comes from factories where they use child labour, or don’t pay their workers fairly. And I wanted to get rid of the muesli bars and snacks that had palm oil in them. Orangutans, tigers and rhinos in South-East Asia are dying all the time because their rainforests are being cut down for palm-oil plantations. For me, the stuff just doesn’t taste good once I know that.