A Little Joke

A Joke

Emma! Em! Let me copy your work!

The urgent whisper echoed through the classroom, cutting through the morning lull. Lauras voice, desperate as ever, was impossible for Miss Thompson to ignore. The teacher looked up from the register shed been tallying, her sharp gaze catching Laura in the act.

Miss Robbins! Settle down, will you? Do your own work for once.

But Miss, this is hard! Laura grumbled, never one to hold back a complaint.

Who said it had to be easy? Besides, Laura, Emmas got a different test to you. So no luck there.

What? But shes in the front! Laura protested.

Thats right. Miss Thompson raised an eyebrow, almost smirking as she mimicked Lauras whine. I gave her a separate task.

Not fair! Laura grumbled, burying her face in her exercise book for a moment, only to immediately begin looking around for another escape route.

Meanwhile, Emma sat quietly at her desk, hands trembling slightly as she clung to her notebook, afraid even to lift her eyes lest someone catch her gaze.

Everyone knew Emma Hart was the classs resident lifesaver, as the teachers called her. She had the sort of bright mind people couldnt help but rely on. And if she ever refused? Well, the fallout wasnt worth thinking about.

Emma wasnt unkind; she would let people copy, but ever since her mums advice, shed tried to do it without provoking her teachers wrath.

Em, youre the kindest girl I know, her mum said on more than one exhausted evening. But youve got to look after your own interests. To get into the sixth form you want, youll need top marks. Its not worth ruining your record because others cant be bothered to do their own revision.

Her mother was right, Emma supposed, but she always sighed when those words floated through the kitchen. If only she knew how tough it was to be the top pupil in a class where nobody else seemed to care.

Emma had only come to this school after her parents divorced. There were more reasons than she could count, but the final straw, her mum once hinted, was when her former stepbrother was bornwhile her parents were still married. No one ever explained it to Emma. The adults managed their mess; Emma sat in her cramped bedroom with her sketchpad, gloomily filling page after page with black pencils, careful to avoid leaving even a sliver of white.

Her grandmother, the only family member who seemed to see her pain, discovered Emmas drawings first.

Whats this, then? What have you lot done to her? Nan had huffed, indignation high. Though her fathers mother, shed firmly taken Emmas mums side.

Hes just like his father, love. Out on the tiles as much as hes at home. Born to stray, the whole lot. The difference with mine, mind, was hed always wander back. No secret children, though.

And you forgave him?

What choice did I have, Julia? I loved him, didnt I? And I knew, deep down, he loved me too. Otherwise he wouldnt have kept coming back.

Was it hard to forgive?

Thats putting it lightly. Never really did. I just carried on. Looking back, I dont even know why. I suppose you should be grateful he had that child, as painful as it is. Otherwise, I can see it in you, Julie, youd have taken him backwouldnt you?

I dont know It hurts.

I know, love. And so does Emma. Shes caught between you both. Dont punish her for our mistakes, eh? The child isnt to blame.

Youre right. Its our fault.

Then Julia did the unexpected. She sat little Emma down and told her, straight out, what was happening. Emma was only six.

Darling, your dad and I wont be living together any more. Were splitting up.

Why?

We’re divorcing. So it’ll be you and me at home. And you’ll see your dad on weekends. Emma, please dont cry. Look at mehell always be your dad, and hell never just disappear, I promise!

And you? Emma smeared rebellious tears across her cheeks. Adults were so foolish, she thought, always making messes their own way.

Im not going anywhere, Em.

Only then did Julia see what her daughter had feared all along, the sadness hidden in those blackened sketchbook pages. It took timehours of patience and talkingto help Emma understand, to convince her that nothing would make her mother leave too. But in time, things settled. Emma saw her father, not as much as she would have liked, but enough to learn: hed left her mum, not her. He still spoiled Emma, and he and Julia made sure Emmas life went undisturbed. Emma even grew close to her little brother, playing with him, growing to like her stepmotherRebecca, who was kind and never saw Emma as an obstacle.

But what happened left scars. Sometimes Emma wondered if her father had left because she simply wasnt enough. After all, he seemed so content with Rebecca and her brother. Why not with her?

Her mum and nan reassured her often, but the worm of doubt gnawed quietly at her heart, rearing its ugly head whenever she most needed to feel confident, especially at school.

At first, it wasnt obvious. So her knees trembled when, in year one, she was asked to recite a poem at assembly. Shed rehearsed for a full week with her mum, standing in front of the mirror and reciting with feeling, certain she had it memorised. In nursery, the teachers had always trusted Emma with the toughest lines. But this time, as she clutched the microphone, catching sight of her family in the crowd, her mind went blank. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she couldnt utter a single word.

The deputy head, the one who had handed her the microphone, crouched down, wiped Emmas tears with her palm, and whispered, Tell me later, alright?

Emma managed a teary nod.

Fortunately, Miss Thompson remembered. At the end of the day, she waited for Emma outside the school gate.

There you are! Will you tell me your poem? Id really love to hear it.

Perhaps it meant little to an adult, but for Emma, it meant everything. She straightened, let go of her mums hand, and recited the poem, word perfect. The nearby adults clapped in admiration.

Well done! I knew you could do it, Miss Thompson smiled.

But I couldnt on stage Emmas eyes watered anew.

Nonsense! You managed brilliantly just now, didnt you? Does it matter when you did it? Emma, youre fantasticthats a fact! Take it from your deputy head. Understand?

I think so

Emma kept that moment close to her heart. When Miss Thompson became her form tutor in secondary school, Emma was secretly relievedhere was someone who was on her side. Someone safe. Someone whod always understand.

Miss Thompson looked out for Emma.

Emmas a sensitive soul. Clever, yes, but fragile. She needs protecting. Have you thought about a maths-focused school, Julia? Emmas got real ability and, frankly, she needs a cohort just as dedicated. Were a good school, but, well were just ordinary. Most of her classmates arent fussed about studies. Emma tries so hard not to stand outalmost as if shes wrapping herself up in three duvets and tying herself in knots. You see?

Julia nodded, but what could she do? The maths college was across town, and nobody had time to ferry Emma there. Her fathers new baby was due soon, her nan was poorly, and Julia worked two jobs to afford a place larger than the poky one-bed flat theyd been left after the divorce.

Em, just hang on a bit longer. Once things calm down, Ill sort out your schoolpromise? Julia would close her tired eyes and hug Emma close on the battered sofa, bathed in the glow of the television.

Mum, dont worryI can manage

Hows school then?

Its alright! Emma said as cheerfully as she could manage, hiding the truth.

Its not alright and you know it! Julia would tickle her, trying to wheedle the truth out, until Emma dissolved into giggles and finally gave in, spilling her worries.

No one openly bullied Emma, but shed hear the whispers:

There she goes again, showing off. Did you hear her answer in history? After THAT, the rest of us wont get decent marks. Couldnt she just give a normal answer for once?

No one said this to her faceuntil one day, things changed.

Emmaten minutes left! If you dont help me now, Im stuffed! Laura hissed, her panic infectious. Emma relented and nudged her rough paper in Lauras direction, the anxiety of being caught almost overwhelming.

Miss Thompson, distracted by a flurry of emails on her phone, didnt notice.

Ben, Emmas desk partner since primary, quietly slid his notebook towards her so she could check Lauras maths questions.

Thanks, Emma whispered, pointing out a mistake. Ben didnt need explanations; theyd been friends long enough to only need a nudge. A few numbers scribbled on her draft and Ben was correcting his answer.

Her rough paper glided discreetly onto Lauras desk, and the rest of the lesson passed in silence.

But as soon as the bell went, the chaos erupted.

What is wrong with you? Sitting there like a statue! End of term! Ill fail if you dont help. Some friend you are! Laura banged a fist on Emmas desk.

Laura, thats not fair! Emmas voice was calm, but inside, anger simmered. Why should she be responsible for everyone else?

Nans voice echoed in her mind. When she was cross, Nan would swap out curse words with a sharp, What on earth is going on? and made Emma promise never to pick up mums rougher language.

Youre a lady, Emma. Not a docker. So act like one!

But you curse, Nan! I heard you!

Doesnt count! Im past my sell-by date. I might curse and puff a fag if I want, but its not for you! At my age its charm, at yours its crude. Take it from meboys want mystery, not sailors vocab from a girl your age.

Boys swear too! Why cant I?

Doesnt matter! What men can get away with, we cant. Thats just how it is. You dont want to be one of the lads, do you? Theyll never marry one of their matesdont forget it.

Was it like that with Mum and Dad?

To an extentbut thats their story. Ask them. Just remember: be kind, but keep your softness. Its your superpower. All the restthats just noise.

Emma stifled a laugh even through her frustration.

Now, she really wanted to curse Laura out but something inside told her to hold back. It wouldnt solve anything.

Lay off her, Laura, Ben muttered, shoving his physics textbook into his backpack. Nobody owes you anything.

Well, friends ought to help! Laura shot back. Look whos talking! You copy too!

Not true! Emma finally snapped. What are you on about? Ben does his own work. If I help, its just to fix a mistake. And anyway! I helped you, didnt I? Whats your problem?

Grabbing her rucksack, Emma shoved past Laura, desperate not to cry in front of half the class, who were all enjoying the drama.

Laura didnt follow, but muttered under her breath, Fine, Hart. Well see who gets the last laugh. Less pride would suit you, Em, trust me

They didnt speak for the rest of the day. Or the next. Or the week after.

Laura cut off all contact, and the class waited, wondering what prank she was plotting as payback.

Laura, renowned for her inspirational sense of humour, had a knack for making life difficult for anyone who stood up to her. Emma braced herself, unsure what might come.

But Laura surprised her.

Em! Stop ignoring me. Two weeks of the silent treatment and your huffing. Lets call it quits, yeah? Laura grinned wide enough to be disarming.

Im not sulking.

Mm-hmm. If you say so! Never mind, lets forget it. So, what you doing for New Year? Staying here or going somewhere nice?

There wasnt a hint of old resentment, so Emma relaxed a little. Perhaps Laura had cooled off. Or so Emma thought.

She soon realised her mistake.

When Emma found a mysterious note stuffed in her backpack, she didnt suspect Laura at first.

Emma! I really like you. Ben x.

The handwriting was a perfect match for her desk neighbours. Emma never imagined anyone else could be behind it.

Little did she know: Laura, after a week helping Ms Green, their English teacher, carry piles of essays, had discovered someone in another class whose handwriting was nearly identical to Bens. With the help of her conspirators, Laura convinced and coerced this boy into writing a phoney love note.

There. Now youll know what its like to be embarrassed in front of everyone, Laura chuckled, sliding the note into Emmas bag.

It was during P.E., in the girls changing room, while Emma chased after stray volleyballs, that Lauras friends kept her distracted.

Come on, Em! Harder! Give it all youve got!

No one batted an eyelid when Emma pulled the offending note from her bag.

Whats that, Emma? Well, well! Miss Quiets got a secret admirer. Look girls, Ben fancies Emma! Laura snatched the note, prancing around, waving it over her head. We need a planoperation True Love!

Give it back! Emma protested.

Oh, calm down, Laura said. Then againwell do this the quick way. Ben! Ben! Laura burst out of the girls changing room and banged on the door to the boys side.

Emma blanched.

Only her diaryand perhaps her mumknew that she liked Ben. No one else.

Is that bad, Mum? shed asked once.

Why? Because you care for someone?

Im too young, arent I?

Theres no such thing as too young for feelings, Em.

So Im in love?

Id say youve got a crush. Thats the lovely bit before love.

Whats the difference?

A crush is when youre standing at the threshold, peeking through the door. Love is all that joy and sorrowand everything in betweenwaiting on the other side.

Why sorrow?

Because love is powerful, darling. It brings joy but it can sting too. Still, we all search for it. Maybe its to stave off loneliness. Maybe its just what makes us human. To find someone wholl take your hand and say, Im here. Crossing that threshold takes guts. But even just standing at the doorway is magic.

Mum

Thats enough chat for now. Youre smart, you know everything you need to. Just tell me about this boy, will you? Do I know him?

Yes

Emma guarded her secret like a delicate vase, afraid even a word or glance might cause it to shatter. But now

Laura, of course, clocked it at oncethe quick way Emma tried to hide the note, the furtive glance at the door, all of it. If not too distracted by Lauras racket, Emma might have twigged that Ben couldnt have left her a notehed been right there with her the whole time.

The boys tumbled out of the changing room, laughing as Laura pranced about with the note, and Emma shrank into the corner, mortified.

Whats happening here?

Miss Thompson appeared from nowhere. The class fell almost silentthe way her sudden arrival always did.

Miss, weve had a development! Laura announced, smacking a noisy kiss to the note before waving it aloft. Emma and Ben! Sitting in a tree

Laura, enough! Whats that?

A note from Ben! Saying he likes her! Laura crowed.

The laughter died instantly.

Quiet! Miss Thompson shot Emma a look. Emma?

Emmas mind flew back, for a moment, to that first assembly, that September morning, her teachers kind eyes.

Youve got nothing to be scared of. I know you can do it.

Emma peeled herself from the wall and faced Miss Thompson.

Laura took a note from me. I didnt want anyone to see it.

I see. Ben? Miss Thompson turned to the boys.

And then, something no one expected.

Yes. I wrote it, Ben replied, elbowing his snickering mates aside. He strode across to Laura and snatched the note out of her hand.

You shouldnt go reading other peoples letters, Laura!

Youre lying! Laura shrieked, realising her scheme had failed. There would be no jeers, no humiliation for Emma. She would keep her head high.

Shell never know, Emma thought, how hard it was to look confident when she only ever felt terrifiedafraid of being judged, rejected, blamed.

But just then, something quiet shifted. Emma lifted her chin not out of fear, but pride.

Ben gently returned the note, pressing it into her palm. Here, for you. And keep what I write between us, yes? Miss, are we doing that essay for Ms Green later? Im totally unprepared.

Honest, at least! Yes, youre getting a special topiccutting-edge stuff. Now move! The bells gone and you lot are still in kit. Move it!

And so class 7V spilled out, ignoring Lauras flaming face, and grinning at Emma and Ben, oblivious to the little folded note clutched in Emmas fist.

Shed carefully tape that note into her diary, treasure it for years, until one day at her wedding, shed hand that battered old notebook to Ben.

Here you are, husband.

Whats this, wife?

Our beginning

And you trust me enoughto read it?

You already know it all!

Not quite.

And whats still a secret? Emma would lean into Ben, ignoring the guests shouting, Kiss! Kiss! across the hall.

Remember what you said about that crush? The doorway?

Yes!

Did you ever cross that threshold?

Her eyes would shine, and Ben would hear her, clear as day even above the noise.

Oh yes! I crossed it and closed the door behind me! Im not just fond of you, Ben.

How come? Ben would stare in wonder.

Because I love you!

Now I understand. Is it bittersweet, Emma?

It is!Ben grinned and slid his hand into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze that promised a lifetime of kindnesses. Then I guess the jokes on those who doubted us.

Emma laughed, a warm sound sweeter than any shed ever knowna sound so light it floated through the open windows, chasing away all the old darkness and doubt.

She felt her mothers arms around her, her nans rough hands, the giggles of childhoodthat funny, complicated, heartbreaking, wonderful tangle that had shaped her. And she understood, at last: none of it had made her less. It had made her strong enough to stand at any threshold and step through.

Their friends erupted as Ben kissed her on the cheek, and Emmablushing but braveturned to face everyone, her heart wide open, ready for all the glorious messiness of real life.

At the back of the room, Miss Thompson caught her eye and offered a conspiratorial wink: well done, Emma.

With the world watching, Emma smileda real, unafraid smileand finally, she knew the punchline:

Sometimes, the hardest things become your best stories.

And when youre the one who finds the courage to laugh last, thats the best joke of all.