Zenny is, naturally, ridiculously smart. A teacher was once so impressed, she gave him school books from a few grades ahead to take home and he soaked it all up like a mop in just one week. Harry Highpants, the dove trainer, was probably his best friend. Actually his name wasn’t even Harry, but everyone called him that. He always wore his pants as close to his chin as possible and when someone once asked him why he wore them so high, he answered, “Because I am Highpants Harry.” And since that day, the name just stuck. He was a sweet, smart, old man and Zenny was always doing something brainy with him. Me, well I’m just an all-rounder I suppose. Good at everything, but great at nothing. I jump head first into things and ask questions later. My words often get muddled up, especially if I’m nervous and it is most frustrating how clumsy and klutzy I can be. Mum and Dad said I had been a bit moody lately, rightfully so, but I just couldn’t put my finger on what my problem was. They asked me if I wanted them to quit the circus, but I found that too difficult to answer. Sure it’s frustrating at times, but a more traditional way of life might bore me silly. I was so used to all the colours and sounds, everyone buzzing around the place, the animals … without all this, would the silence drive me batty? And would that mean an end to using the excuse; ‘the donkey ate my homework?’
My thoughts were interrupted, as another four caravans rolled into the drive. The other circus freaks had arrived …
I decided to crawl into bed early with my bad breath … I still reeked of garlic from the vegie souvlakis we’d had for dinner. Of course I didn’t manage to have a shower, because by the time the bathroom was finally free, my pea-head brother had not exactly left it smelling like roses. Need I say more? I would just have to get up early and have a nice hot shower, while there was some hot water, and have my hair all freshly done for the first day of school at Brookevale College.
Usually I didn’t mind so much starting a new day at school, but this town seemed different. I wondered how I would be able to slot in discreetly. My red curly hair that bounced around like a slinky was bound to make me stand out. Hrmmm … maybe I ought to use the hair straightener that Aunt Jan bought me for Christmas, the most normal present anyone in this family had ever given anyone. Ever.
I woke up to the pea-head bouncing on my head, screeching; ‘Wake up! Wake up!’
As if in a nightmare, my alarm clock was flashing.
OH. NO. The power had gone out. It was already 8:30am. Macaroni cheese! How could this happen? Where were my clothes? I raced to the dryer, but my favourite jeans were still soaking wet; “You have got to be kidding!”
Mum was chasing her tail, pacing in circles, somewhat hyperventilating. “Ten minutes. Ten minutes. We have to go! Imagine being late on your first day, oh my goodness, why can’t the Crombies ever be on time? Just for once! Where are my shoes? Don’t tell me that cheeky pony has eaten them for breakfast again …”
I was horrified. I couldn’t believe that on my first day at a new school in Poshville, I was going to rock up in a purple and yellow striped parachute tracksuit. As luck had it, apparently my suitcase of clothes mysteriously fell open on its way into the house from the van and everything inside it just happened to fall out, right into a puddle of pony vomit. Aunty Jan had decided to put all my clothes in the wash, but forgot to hang them out. So either I was either going to school in wet clothes, or in my pyjamas. Or the only other choice: Aunty Jan’s jogging parachute extravaganza. Ooohhh I wanted to dunk my head in vomit myself. This had to be a nightmare. I kept blinking to see if I was awake or asleep. I wanted this nightmare to end. Uncle Stan started shaking me, “She needs a doctor! Help! Help! Her eyes are rolling back!” And with that, he picked up the jug of water from the kitchen table and poured it over my head. Yep. Thanks for that. Now my hair would soon be even more frizzy, if that was even at all possible. Brookevale College, prepare to meet your newest student – Zillie the freakster.
As I entered the classroom, ten minutes late, a skinny, awkward man in a boring, brown suit stopped mid-sentence, took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, looked at the clock above the door and shook his head. “You must be Zillie. Zillie is it? What is your real name?”
He sounded annoyed.
I remained frozen at the door. I could feel every pair of eyes on me and I could feel the sweat start to trickle.
‘Zillie. That’s it. Just Zillie, as in, Zillie.’
Laughter began to erupt.
“Well don’t just stand there like a garden gnome, go and take a seat, you can catch up on what you have missed in detention.”
Garden gnome? That was a new one. Was he allowed to call me that? I took my seat when –
“Violet’s my name,” she whispered, “I just love your hair! It’s totally rad! And your outfit is so … retro.”
“Hi Violet –“
“Let’s just stop shall we class? It’s obvious that Zillie here has something more important to say than what I do, so go ahead. Tell everyone what is so important.” The brown suit tapped his foot, impatiently waiting for my response.
“Nothing Sir. Go on …”
“Well, thank you for your permission Miss Zillie! Now let’s increase that detention time by ten minutes.”
My first day ended in way that was perfectly appropriate to summing up the day I’d had. Uncle Stan didn’t own a mobile phone (he believed they were invented by aliens to monitor our every move), and since he did not know I would be late because of detention and I had no way of letting him know, I got to walk home. Alone. I got lost. Then it started to rain. Heavily. Yep; perfect!
I decided to eat Aunt Jan’s bean curd delight in bed. I wasn’t in the mood to sit through all the usual shenanigans and I couldn’t even be bothered complaining about having this slush for dinner.
Again. I had given up hope on ever having for mac and cheese, or a simple hamburger with tomato sauce for dinner, I even got sick of asking. It just seemed like nobody ever listened to me around this place anyway. Now as for Pea-head, everybody seemed to have time for that rat bag. You know he came home with three first place ribbons?
Apparently it was athletics day in the junior school and he blitzed it! None of us had any idea he was even good at sport and neither did he! If there is ever such a thing as a second life, I will ask to come back as him. Of course I would never tell him that, it would ruin our family groove if we were ever to actually compliment each other – it would look like we were getting along. Sometimes though, I must admit, I did feel sorry for him. He was obsessed with his pet ant, and little did he know that Dad kept secretly replacing it every time it ‘took a very long sleep’. Zenny was convinced his ant had secret powers and when I was trying to fall asleep at night, I’d hear him talking to it. I guess I should’ve given him a break now and then, but it frustrated me how he seemed to have