Ugly Me

 by

  Alan Brown

I’m so ugly birds fall out of the sky when I look up at ‘em. Milk turns sour on doorsteps as I go by. When I’m keeper the other football team can’t score a goal. They see me and their shots go wide. It’s all because I’m so ugly.

“You must be the ugliest person in the world,” says my mate Rich. I don’t care, but I punch him anyway. Me and Rich, we’re fighting friends. Sometimes I win and sometimes he wins. We don’t hurt each other, much. That’s what fighting friends are for.

Rich’s got a twin sister called Abby. I never fight with Abby. She’s beautiful, like a princess. When she’s there all my words come out wrong, as if my tongue’s too big for my mouth. I get clumsy, and drop things. I don’t drop a thing when I’m in goal. Sticky Fingers, they call me.

“Hey, Sticky, we playing tonight?”

That was Tom. He’s in my team. We don’t have captains or anything - they just do what I say.

I can’t sit still when we’ve got a game after school. Today I tried to make the teacher’s writing fall off the blackboard by staring at it ever so hard. The words didn’t fall off, but they did get a bit fuzzy. I felt Abby looking at me so I hid behind my desk lid.

On the way to the rec I started a traffic jam with ugly-vision. I made all the cars conk out. You can do that sort of thing when you’re as ugly as me, and nobody ever knows it was you. It doesn’t work on buses and lorries. That’s ’cos they’re diesels.

We had to wait for Rich because he’d got the ball. Danny and me had a fight, just to pass the time. I was doing all right until he punched me on the nose. It made my eyes water and the other kids thought I was crying, but I wasn’t.

My nose felt like it was broken, but Danny got me to wobble it from side to side and said it was all right. He wouldn’t have wobbled his nose from side to side when it felt like it was broken.

When I could see again Rich was there. With the ball - and Abby.

“Wob boo doin ear?” I couldn’t talk too good, at first.

“I want to play,” she said.

I looked round the team. They all looked the other way. I looked at Rich. He shrugged and started digging holes in the pitch with his toe.

I got my voice back. “You want to play?” was all I could say.

Abby laughed. “There’s no need to cry about it,” she said.

“I’m not crying!” I yelled. She was making me all hot and confused again.

“I want to play,” she repeated.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“That’s not a good answer.”

“It wasn’t a good question.”

Rich and Danny started to kick the ball about. Tom joined in.

“We don’t have girls in our team,” I said. The ball came to a rest at Abby’s feet. “They’re not good enough.”

Abby spun the ball backwards, flicked it up and juggled it on her feet and knees. Then she trapped it, dribbled round me faster than I could turn and lobbed it over my head to Rich. He grinned.

Abby ran off to join in the game. I needed to fight somebody, but there wasn’t anybody left.

Danny picked one team and I picked the other. I wanted Rich on my side so I had to choose Abby as well. I thought that Danny would pick her first, but he chose all his friends like he always does.

By half time we were four nil up. Abby scored three and Rich got one. I was bored. Nobody made me dive, and a goalie’s not tested unless they have to dive. That’s what I like best.

Danny groaned. “Hey, Sticky. Have mercy. Give us a player to even things up a bit.”

“Who do you want?” I asked. We both knew who was the best player. I wanted to see whether he would ask for her.

Danny hesitated and Abby spoke for herself.

“I’ll swop,” she said, going over to the other side. She had a look in her eye that said ‘Look out!’

I got all the diving I wanted, and more.

Abby got one past me, and then two. She did banana shots, volleys and diving headers. By the time she got her third I was so tired that even Danny put one in our net.

With five minutes to go we were even at four all. Then Rich scrambled another and put us ahead again.

The shots came at me from all directions. I dived this way and that. I was half kicked to death. My sticky fingers kept snagging the ball, but I was slowing down.

I booted the ball up field to get a breather. When it came back I was still panting. Abby beat my defenders. Her foot went back for the shot. It was me against her.

Abby’s foot came forward and I dived to cover the near post. Her shot went like a bullet towards the other side of the goal. I lay in the mud and watched helplessly. The ball sped over the crossbar!

“The ref must be a friend of yours!” Danny shouted.

Tom was blowing the whistle. We’d won five four!

Danny ranted and raved. I laughed. So did Abby.

I felt really good as I walked home. Just one thing bothered me. Why had Abby laughed? Surely she wanted to win?

The next day at school the game was big news. Danny was still moaning, but everyone else had enjoyed it.

“Hello, Sticky.”

I nodded, dumb again.

“You’re a good keeper,” she said.

“You’re a great player, Abby,” I croaked.

“Where’re you sitting?”

Did I say that, or was it her? I was getting flustered again. Danny and his cronies started poking fun, so I had to sort them out. Boys in our class don’t talk to girls.

By the time Mr Hawkins arrived I was back in my seat next to Simon Bates. Abby sat on her own. She smiled at me and I smiled back, rubbing my knuckles. What a nice day.

“When did Abby start sitting on her own, Rich?”

Rich laughed at me. I didn’t hit him straightaway, seeing he’s Abby’s brother. “She used to sit with Nazzam who went home to Pakistan,” he said. “Why?”

“Nothing.”

Rich laughed again. “That’s what Abby said. She was asking about you.”

We had a good fight.

The next day I went over to Abby’s desk.

“Could I sit here for a bit? I’m not sitting with Simon any more.”

“Have you been fighting?” she asked.

“No, not exactly.”

“I don’t want you here if you’re fighting all the time.”

My pride wouldn’t let me go back to Simon. “All right,” I said.

Abby smiled and the sun shone. “I’d like that then,” she said.

Mr Hawkins said it was all right to sit with Abby, but it was going to be hard to keep my promise not to fight. Boys in our class don’t sit next to girls.

“Who’s Prince Charming?” Danny taunted. He’s so dumb I don’t even mind.

“Prince Charming.”

It was like an echo. I glared round to see who it was - Simon. So he was palling up with Danny. I rubbed my knuckles and they put their desk lids up and giggled.

They kept it up all day. It was more fun than lessons. Trilling “Prince Charming, Prince Charming” like demented budgies.

I gave them ugly looks. They should have been terrified. They just laughed.

“Don’t take any notice, Sticky,” said Abby.

Don’t take any notice! It wasn’t her they were laughing at. I used ugly-vision to make their hearts conk out. It didn’t work. They must be diesels.

Next day I was early at school. Abby was late. It was just as well. Somebody had written ‘Sticky loves Abby’ on the board in the middle of a big red heart.

I knew who. Simon rubbed it off. Danny was a bit more stubborn. We were rolling on the floor when Abby came into the classroom.

“Sticky! You promised!”

“But...”

“But nothing. You promised.”

“They said...”

“I don’t care. You know what I said.”

My heart sank. “You can’t mean it...”

“Give me a good reason why not.” She folded her arms.

“There’s nowhere to go,” I said, desperately.

“There’s plenty of spare desks at the back.”

“Everybody will laugh.”

“Let them laugh,” she said, and gave me that aggressive look again.

“Mr Hawkins wouldn’t like it.” I’d hit on the right thing to say. It seemed to count with Abby.

She chewed her lip. “Oh, all right,” she agreed. “Just this once.”

I didn’t want to sit with her when she was bossy like that. The fighting was all for her anyway.

In a rage I grabbed my books. I went to the back and scorched swear words into the desk lid with ugly-vision.

At play time Abby wouldn’t talk to me. She was surrounded by girl friends and they hissed like geese when I went near. Rich and me had a real fight. We were sent to the head teacher. She gave me a letter to take home to Mum. What a terrible day.

I raced to the rec and didn’t even stop to make traffic jams. They must have thought it was Sunday.

The others strolled up in ones and twos. I tried to get them organised, but we were waiting for Rich and the ball again.

“You took your time.”

Rich wouldn’t look at me. “There were things to sort out,” he said.

“Well, let’s get started,” I said. “Who’s going to choose?”

“Danny,” said Rich. Danny smiled. “And Abby.”

“Hang on, we can’t have two captains, and I always choose.”

Now Rich looked at me. “That’s it, Sticky,” he said. “We don’t see why you should always choose.”

“Because I’m the best, that’s why.”

“But you’re only the goalkeeper, and Abby put three past you yesterday.”

“Only the goalkeeper, who says I’m only the goalkeeper?” I was getting into a fighting rage.

“I do, Sticky,” said Abby. “Are you going to fight me?”

Everyone was against me. It hurt, but I gave in. At least I wouldn’t have to wait long to get picked.

I waited, and waited. Players with two left feet were picked while I stood there with my face burning. Didn’t they want a goalie? Under my breath I chanted, Choose me, Abby, choose me!

Danny finally picked me. I ran towards the goal - but John Harrison was already there.

“John wants a go in goal,” said Danny. “We think that’s fair.”

Fair! It might have been fair, but it wasn’t football. Abby scored whenever she wanted against John Harrison. At half time Danny grudgingly put me in goal. We lost eight two.

School next day was quiet. Nobody talked about the game. I don’t think anyone had enjoyed it. Just before lunch Mr Hawkins called me to the front.

“What did your mother say about the letter?”

“Letter?”

“The letter, Sticky. The letter the Head gave you to take home yesterday.”

I had forgotten the letter, lost the letter - my mind was completely blank about letters.

“At lunch, Sticky.” Mr Hawkins spoke with exaggerated patience. “Find-the-letter-at-lunch-time.”

I ran home at the end of morning school. Mum produced a soggy unreadable mess from the washing machine. The letter had been in my football kit. I ran back to school and missed lunch.

When I got to the classroom I was so miserable my feet wouldn’t go to the desk at the back. I looked round the class. Something had changed. At first I couldn’t see what it was. Then I saw that some of the boys were talking to girls. Tom was talking to Marie Richards. Rich was talking to Karen Hardy.

It felt like when they used to do what I said, but this time I hadn’t said anything. They were copying me and Abby. Perhaps everything would be all right. I hadn’t used my fists. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to use them any more, much.

The talking stopped. Every-one looked up to see what I would do. For a moment, I thought about giving them all a dose of ugly-vision. The moment passed, and I decided to let them live. I went to where Abby was sitting.

“All right,” I said. “I’ll try. As long as nobody starts anything.”

She smiled and the sun shone again. I sat down beside her.

“But I’m no Prince Charming,” I said.

“Who’d want a boring old prince when they could have a lovely frog like you?” she said.

Then she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Everybody cheered.

Wow!

Ugly Me copyright © 1997 by Alan Brown