Page 5 of The New Girl

‘It’s not fake, it’s her skin colour. Syria is beside Turkey. It’s boiling hot all the time,’ Denise said.

‘Well, not all the time. In the winter it can get quite cold,’ Safa said.

Orla flicked her hair back. ‘Well, your tan will fade soon enough in this dump of a country. And my advice to you, Afra or whatever your name is, is to stay away from this lot. They are the super nerds of fifth class. You don’t want to be associated with them. Seriously. No one will speak to you if they think you’re friendly with my geeky sister.’

‘Sod off, Orla,’ Ruby hissed.

Orla ignored her. ‘So listen, Ruby, you’re going to have to look after Robbie today while Mum is out. I can’t do it.’

Ruby’s face went bright red. ‘No way,’ she hissed. ‘It’s your turn.’

Safa wondered who Robbie was.

‘I can’t do it. I’m meeting Jack in Starbucks after school.’

‘I am not doing it.’ Ruby’s fists were clenched. ‘It’s not fair. I’ve done the last three Mondays.’ Ruby was close to tears. Safa felt bad for her.

‘Well I won’t be home, so he’ll starve.’ Orla walked off.

Ruby roughly wiped the tears in her eyes away. ‘You are so lucky,’ she said to Clara and Safa. ‘I wish every day that I was an only child.’

The other girls looked at each other but said nothing. Safa was very curious to know who Robbie was and why no one wanted to go home and look after him.

CHAPTER THREE

Ruby

Ruby had to go to the bathroom to calm down. She was so furious with Orla for dumping Robbie on her again. It wasn’t fair. She kicked the wall of the school toilet and locked herself into a cubicle to cry.

Mondays were the worst day in Ruby’s week. First of all, the weekend was over and she had to go back to school, and second of all, when she got home, she had to give Robbie his dinner while her mum went to yoga. It was the only time her mum had to herself. The doctor said she had to have some time to herself or she’d break.

Ruby wasn’t supposed to know about this, but she’d heard her mum and dad talking about it. Her dad had said, ‘Fiona, if you fall apart, we’ll all go down. You have to take time out for yourself. The doctor said so. He said you’ll break otherwise.’

A week later her mum had signed up to yoga classes in the local church hall and she’d been doing them now for six weeks. So every Monday, Orla and Ruby were supposed to take it in turns to feed Robbie while Mum was out.

But so far, Ruby had done it five times and Orla only once. Ruby had hoped her mum would notice, but when she got home on Mondays her mum was always standing at the door in her tracksuit, dying to get out. She’d say a quick hello and then rush past Ruby down to the town hall.

Ruby wanted to complain, to give out about Orla, to say it wasn’t fair, but she didn’t. Mum needed this break and Ruby didn’t want to ruin it by causing trouble or complaining.

She had said it to her dad last week and he said he’d have a word with Orla, but then Robbie had spiked his finger with a fork and screamed the house down. It had been a tiny cut but when he saw the blood he had freaked out.

Dad had forgotten after that and Ruby didn’t want to bother him. Not bothering Mum and Dad was what Ruby tried to do, all the time. It was also what everyone told her to do – constantly. ‘Don’t bother your mum and dad,’ her granny said, the occupational therapist said, the speech therapist said ... Everyone was very clear that she was not to bother her parents.

But it was hard sometimes. Really hard. Last week she’d needed help with her maths for her weekly test, but she couldn’t ask her dad because he’d fallen asleep on the couch. After Mum had had to give up work to look after Robbie, Dad had to drive the taxi way more than before and he was always tired these days. He had black rings under his eyes. But Ruby had really needed help. So she went to her mum.

‘Not now, Ruby,’ she’d said. She had been reading Robbie his favourite book –The Gruffalo– and she couldn’t stop, or he’d have a tantrum.

So she’d tried Orla.

‘Forget about your stupid maths. Put this on my back.’ Orla had handed Ruby a mitt and a bottle of fake tan.

‘Orla, I need help. I failed my test last week and I’ll fail again this week.’

‘Who cares? Maths is boring and it’s not as if you’re going to be a maths professor or whatever. Don’t streak my tan – rub it in evenly or I’ll kill you.’

Ruby had sighed and rubbed the tan into her sister’s back.

She had failed her maths test again. Miss Ingle had taken her aside and told her that she really needed to ‘pull up her socks’. Ruby had bitten her lip really hard to stop herself crying.

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