Penelope Perfect: The Truly Terrible Mistake, Page 2

  This EXACT thing had happened to Penelope just two weeks ago. It was lucky that Oscar Finley was in her group, because when Penelope stood there in front of the WHOLE CLASS with her mouth open and her heart racing, Oscar stepped in and started playing an air guitar solo.

  It was no wonder Penelope’s marks for drama were sometimes (because of stupid improvisation) a little less than perfect.

  Penelope crossed her fingers as she walked into drama. She’d heard rumours from other kids in her year that Mr Salmon was giving everyone a proper, scripted project.

  Penelope certainly hoped the rumours were true. Because this might be just the way to push up her drama mark and make up for her Truly Terrible Mistake.

  Perhaps then her dad would stay proud of her after all.

  Mr Salmon was a very colourful teacher. His shoes were especially colourful. Penelope had kept a mental list of all the shoes he’d worn so far this year. Today’s shoes were green.

  ‘Crew, for your major assessment task, I want each group to come up with a five-minute performance,’ he said, walking his green shoes between the students, who all sat on the floor. ‘First, you will need to write your own play. The subject matter is entirely up to you.’

  He walked to the front of the room and checked his diary. ‘Now, let me see. Today is Wednesday …’

  Penelope tried not to count how many seconds it would take him to check his diary, but she couldn’t help herself.

  Eight seconds. Unfortunately, Mr Salmon liked to say unnecessary things before he got to the point.

  ‘We have drama together on Wednesdays and Thursdays. So you’ll have two periods after today to work on your play. Then you’ll perform it in front of the class next Thursday.’

  As soon as Mr Salmon said that, Penelope had a feeling that things were about to change.

  For the better.

  Perhaps his green shoes were good luck? Because Penelope was ready to GO with this project.

  She had found her opportunity to get an excellent mark in drama!

  Penelope felt so ENTHUSIASTIC that she sneakily reached out and pinched Bob on the thigh. It would be rude to speak while Mr Salmon was speaking, but Penelope could hardly wait to share her good news with Bob.

  Now that Penelope had her very own best friend she was always occupied (without even trying!) at lunchtimes. But before Bob came to Chelsea Primary, things had been very different. Penelope had some friends. Sometimes she would join Joanna and Sarah on the monkey bars, or go over to the courtyard where Tilly and Sarah were (though there was always the risk that Rita would say something very mean). Occasionally, Penelope would spend some time on the oval with Oscar Finley (even though he was a boy) while he caught bugs and examined them under his magnifying glass.

  Some lunchtimes, though, Penelope didn’t have anyone to play with. On those days, she’d go to the library. The Very Good Thing was that Penelope hadn’t wasted those library lunchtimes. She’d put a lot of effort into writing a PLAY. She would have to wait until she was home to get it out of her special box with the lock and key and check it over again, but as far as she could remember, her play was PERFECT.

  Penelope recalled that it even had five roles, which exactly matched the number of kids in her drama group.

  Having the EXCELLENT play she’d prepared earlier would give Penelope’s group the biggest head start ever. While the other groups were still trying to write their scripts, Penelope’s group could be learning their lines and figuring out how to talk and walk and where to stand on the stage!

  Putting on a proper play wasn’t silly and thoughtless like improvisation. This would take EFFORT and DISCIPLINE. Which was perfect for Penelope. She was quite sure that, with her play and her direction, her group could achieve TOP MARKS. Now there was DEFINITELY a chance of having an excellent school report at the end of the term.

  As Penelope scanned her group, preparing to deliver her great news, she caught sight of Joanna out of the corner of her eye. Joanna was practising how to touch her nose with her tongue. Penelope knew (from past experience) the steps Joanna was going through.

  1. Stretch your tongue out, making a point with the tip.

  2. Pull upper lip over teeth.

  3. Point tip of tongue up towards nose.

  Penelope couldn’t help but stare. Joanna’s goal had absolutely nothing to do with drama. In fact, it was a very silly goal. Penelope would never consider putting time and energy into such a crazy thing. In that way (well, in every way actually) Joanna and Penelope were EXACT opposites.

  Still, Penelope could see that Joanna was making good progress. Last time Penelope had seen her try this, Joanna’s tongue had ended up at least three centimetres away from the tip of her nose. This time, the distance was probably just over one centimetre.

  Penelope shook her head and tried to focus. This was the type of thing Joanna did all the time. It was EXTREMELY distracting.

  By the time she focused properly, Penelope saw that Mr Salmon was at the noticeboard.

  ‘OK crew, we’re going to mix it up a bit for this task,’ he said in a casual way, as though changing the drama group Penelope had worked with for THREE MONTHS was no big deal. ‘Here’s a list of the brand new groups you’ll be working in.’

  ‘It’s a DISASTER!’ Penelope told Bob as they walked home together that afternoon. ‘An absolute CATASTROPHE.’

  ‘Nah, it’s not, Pen,’ Bob replied. ‘A catastrophe would be something like a tsunami. Or a cyclone. Or a volcanic eruption. Even a typhoon, or an earthquake.’

  As Bob reeled off her list, Penelope imagined each of the natural disasters.

  ‘Focus, Bob,’ Penelope said. Bob knew a lot about natural disasters since she’d chosen the topic for environmental science (Penelope had chosen pollution).

  But right now, that was not the point. ‘I’m talking about Joanna here. Joanna! She’s the WORST person Mr Salmon could ever have chosen to be in our group.’

  Bob shrugged. ‘At least we’re still together, Pen.’

  Penelope blew out a breath. Obviously, it would have been even worse if Bob wasn’t in her group. But clearly she didn’t understand how serious this was. It was one thing to help Joanna out in maths, but entirely another to have her in their drama group. This project had to make up for Penelope’s Terrible Mistake in the maths test.

  Joanna was even NAUGHTIER (if that was possible) in drama than she was in the regular classroom. It was bad enough that they’d lost Oscar Finley (who was probably the best boy actor in the whole class) and picked up Tommy Stratton (who was an OK actor but always wanted to sing, which he was terrible at). Penelope thought she could manage Tommy Stratton. But Joanna?

  ‘What if Joanna RUINS it for our whole group, Bob?’ Penelope asked.

  ‘What if she doesn’t?’ Bob said. ‘I mean, some of Joanna’s improvisations have been awesome. And funny, too.’

  At the mention of improvisation, Penelope felt Very Tense.

  ‘This is going to be a proper scripted performance, Bob,’ Penelope reminded her, ‘not just some random improvisation. Joanna gets carried away all the time.’

  ‘True that,’ Bob said, with a smirk that made Penelope think she was recalling one of the many times Joanna had got carried away in improvisations. ‘Let’s just give her a chance though, Pen. We can always pull her into line if she goes nutso.’

  Penelope would have liked to discuss some actual strategies for pulling Joanna into line if she went nutso, but they had arrived at Bob’s house. And Bob just waved and sped up her driveway as though the whole Joanna thing was no big deal.

  Whenever Penelope felt stressed or anxious (like now) she liked to see Grandpa George. When she was with Grandpa George, life always seemed a little less wobbly. And Penelope could call Grandpa George at any old time. Unlike her dad, he was hardly ever Very Busy. With Grandpa, there was always time to relax and talk about things.

  So it was Very Good that Grandpa was able to meet Penelope for a walk in the park.
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  ‘Hello, sweetheart,’ Grandpa George said, holding up a paper bag. Penelope knew the bag would contain bread for the ducks. That was another good thing about Grandpa George. She could always rely on him to bring bread for the ducks.

  Without needing to talk about it, Penelope and Grandpa George headed off towards the park. When they got there, they went straight to the lake.

  ‘So, you’ve had a bit of a difficult day?’ he asked. Before Penelope could answer, he continued. ‘It must be in the air for you Geminis. We just had another dream analysis group and Fred needed to debrief.’

  Grandpa George held a dream analysis group at his house once a month. There were about seven members who went. Fred was Penelope’s favourite (apart from Grandpa George, of course). Fred’s star sign was Gemini, just like Penelope’s.

  The sign for Gemini was of twins. Penelope wasn’t a twin in actual life. In actual life, she just had Harry and her little half-sister, Sienna. Even so, it often felt to Penelope that she was a kind of twin. It was as though there were two Penelopes inside her. One was a lovely, calm and sensible Penelope and, thankfully, it was usually that Penelope who showed up. But every now and then (way less than 50% of the time) it was the bossy, cross and frustrated Penelope who surfaced.

  Penelope didn’t know many other Geminis, but she thought Grandpa’s friend Fred was (possibly – she couldn’t say for sure since she didn’t know many others) the very best Gemini to know. Penelope had confided in Fred about the twin Penelopes, and it had been one of the smartest things she’d ever done. Because Fred totally understood.

  Actually, Fred understood so well that Penelope even told him the thing she really DID NOT LIKE about being a Gemini.

  Outbursts.

  Occasionally (really, not very often) bad feelings would build up inside her. Then (hardly ever), the bossy, frustrated Penelope would barge right past the good, sensible, calm Penelope. When that happened, things would fly out of her mouth. And they were NOT good things.

  Penelope had been working hard on controlling her outbursts. She had lots of calming techniques, like colouring in and making jewellery and reading her favourite books, which helped keep the angry Penelope away MOST of the time.

  Fred used golf and lawn bowls and listening to jazz music for squashing down his not-very-nice twin. Penelope thought this was good to know for when she got old herself. Though she was (quite) sure she’d be cured of outbursts by them.

  ‘What’s up with Fred?’ Penelope asked Grandpa.

  ‘He’s been having his flying dreams again,’ Grandpa said.

  Penelope knew Fred enjoyed his flying dreams. He always said he felt as though he was getting to see the world for free.

  ‘But his flying dreams are good, aren’t they?’ Penelope asked.

  Grandpa George paused. ‘Well, the latest ones haven’t been so good. He’s been flying too low. It’s as though he can’t muster enough oomph to rise up into the air properly. So in his dreams, he keeps banging into power poles and roofs.’

  Penelope frowned. She didn’t like the idea of Fred banging into power poles and roofs, even if it was only in his dreams.

  ‘So, what does it mean?’ Penelope asked. Grandpa George had taught her that dreams always mean something.

  Grandpa George flattened his handlebar moustache. ‘It could mean that Fred has a lesson to learn. Something from the past that he hasn’t come to terms with yet.’

  ‘But Fred is so old!’ Penelope said. ‘I’m certain I won’t have any new lessons to learn when I’m his age,’ she added, slipping her hand into her grandpa’s.

  ‘I’m not so sure about that, my girl,’ Grandpa said. But before Penelope could respond, a large swan began nudging the paper bag that Grandpa was holding.

  Feeding the ducks wasn’t really just feeding the ducks. There were loads of different birds at the lake and they were always Very Hungry. Penelope had only just finished telling Grandpa about Joanna and the drama project when the birds started flocking towards them.

  Penelope didn’t talk while the birds fed. She just wanted to pause and enjoy the feeling of being in charge of all those birds.

  Penelope tried to share out the bread as fairly as possible, but it wasn’t easy. Unfortunately, one of the swans was aggressive and behaved very badly. The moorhens were a little better, but Penelope still had to direct her crumbs carefully so everyone got an equal share.

  Penelope’s favourite bird today was a duck. It had a brown torso and a green neck, which looked lovely. But as well as being lovely to look at, it seemed like a polite and dignified duck. Instead of scrambling for every speck of bread, it accepted the bits that fell in front of it. So it was EXTREMELY annoying when the aggressive swan (for absolutely no reason) gave Penelope’s duck a peck on its lovely green neck.

  ‘Just LOOK at that naughty swan,’ Penelope said to her Grandpa. ‘It’s mucking up everything for all the other birds.’

  Just as she said that, the naughty swan dived under the water so that only its bottom waggled in front of them. ‘Truly, it reminds me of Joanna,’ Penelope said. She looked in the paper bag for some more bread, but it was all gone. The birds must have realised that too, because they started to wander off.

  Penelope sighed. Seeing them wandering away gave her the opposite feeling of having the birds flock to her. She and Grandpa George sat on the bench seat. Penelope rested her head on Grandpa’s shoulder, watching the aggressive swan finally come the right way up and chase a (very small) moorhen.

  ‘Do you think anyone could train that swan to be GOOD?’ Penelope asked.

  Grandpa George leaned in so his head rested on top of Penelope’s. It was a bit squishy, but Penelope didn’t mind.

  Grandpa thought for a moment. ‘I guess it’s possible,’ he said. ‘But I’m not sure I’d want that to happen.’

  ‘Why not?’ Penelope asked.

  ‘Well, it’s in that swan’s nature to behave as it does. And I think it would be boring if everyone behaved the same way.’

  As much as she loved Grandpa George, Penelope couldn’t agree with him on this. You could be different (like Penelope and Bob were different) without being naughty.

  Penelope was about to argue that point (although possibly she would need to extract her head before doing it) when Grandpa reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper. Penelope eased her head out from under his so she could look at it.

  Grandpa George often gave Penelope little poems or sayings after he’d checked her astrological chart. Sometimes they were just funny. But every now and then they were really useful.

  Penelope smiled. It was nice, in a way, that she would always be Grandpa’s little girl, but sometimes he forgot that she was getting quite old. She had been colouring inside the lines without any problem since she was about four years old. She could see no reason to start doing it the wrong way now.

  Seeing Grandpa had been an excellent idea. That night, Penelope felt calmer. And when she found her play in the special box with the lock and key, she felt almost positive. Likeable Lucy: The Extremely Popular Girl was a story of triumph. There was only one part for a boy but Penelope just knew it would be better than anything the other kids would be able to write quickly.

  Perhaps it would be OK having Joanna in their group. If both Penelope and Bob were strict with her and made sure she didn’t muck around too much, it might be fine. Maybe, together, they could train Joanna to do things the right way.

  Penelope set the alarm on her iPhone for half an hour earlier than usual. Then she put the piece of paper her Grandpa had given her under her pillow. Even though it was a bit silly, it was still special, because it was from her lovely Grandpa.

  The library was very quiet before school on Thursday morning. Ms Wong helped Penelope make five copies of her play script. She also helped laminate them in the office. From the office, Penelope could see the booth where she’d spent so many lunchtimes writing the play. In a way, that library booth felt like an old fri
end. But she was relieved she would only ever go there if she wanted to from now on. Those days were most definitely over.

  In drama class, Penelope stood tall (well, as tall as she could – she was still the smallest girl in her year) as she waited for the kids in her group to read through the lovely, laminated scripts.

  For a while (probably about six seconds) after everyone had finished reading, nobody in the group spoke. Penelope suspected that they were a bit overwhelmed by how good it was.

  Finally, Felix Unger piped up. ‘This is a girl’s play,’ he said. ‘I’m not doing a girl’s play.’

  ‘There’s only ONE song in it,’ Tommy Stratton moaned. ‘Right at the end.’

  ‘Thank God,’ Joanna chimed in.

  ‘What do you mean by that, Joanna?’ Tommy demanded in a cross, loud voice.

  ‘It’s not even funny,’ Felix added.

  This was a lot of NEGATIVE comments.

  ‘Well, Felix Unger,’ Penelope said (a little snappily), ‘it’s not supposed to be funny because it’s not a comedy. It’s a DRAMA. Which means it’s DRAMATIC. Besides, there is a funny bit. Right here.’

  Penelope pointed to the bit where she had written stage directions for the main character, Likeable Lucy, to pause and wait for the audience to finish laughing.

  No-one said anything then. It was quite rude, how they all looked away.

  ‘Well, it definitely needs some songs or it’ll be way boring,’ Tommy said, breaking into a version of ‘Popular’ from the musical Wicked. No ears should have to endure Tommy singing that song, thought Penelope.

  ‘Is someone torturing a cat?’ Rita called out from across the room. She said it in her sweetest voice, which is how Penelope knew she was being especially mean.

  Tommy stopped singing.

  ‘Keep it down over there, losers,’ Rita continued. ‘We’re trying to write the last scene of our brilliant play.’