I was sent to the office.

Mrs Slesser has a large face, the size and shape of a cello. Her voice is strained, like someone is playing a cello, someone who hasn’t had many lessons.

            Sit down

She says in a soft tone of voice, concealing the fact it’s an order. I sit down on the plastic chair and it squeaks.

            Do you know why you’re in here?

            Yes.

            Why?

            Because you think I’ve being abused.

            And haveyou?

            No.

            Then why do you have the word STOP on your chest?

            It’s a protest.

            Against what?

Against draining the pool, that’s what we’ve been talking about for the past half hour.

She’s not listening, she is too busy staring at The Stain. Then the door is flung open and three people enter. A policewoman, Miss Fisk and my Mum.  She is wearing Tesco’s Finest and looks worried.

            What’s going on?

The Policewoman asks me take off my vest and again, a mass intake of breath. The Policewoman asks permission to take a photograph and I reply,

            Of course  

They suggest that Jug might be bullying me? I inform them that he’s not. They don’t believe me. So I explain that he’s my best friend, my only friend, that he’s the one who saved my life, that he’s the only one who likes me for who I am, who doesn’t talk to me like I’m a victim. The three adults shift uncomfortably in their seats.

Mum can’t understand why I’m obsessed with saving some crummy pool in the middle of nowhere? The pool that almost killed me? The pool that shecampaigned to have drained, to save children’s lives? All eyes turn to me.

I want to tell them about Mia, but I can’t. So, I say this instead,

It’s not just ‘a pool’, it’s a place where things live and though fish and bugs are ugly, they still have a right to exist. And what do we do? Kill them. For what? Our own Health and Safety. What about theirhealth and safety? Because if we drain that pool, what we’re saying is, let’s make the whole world clean and pretty and get rid of that horrible stain.

Silence. The only thing moving is a small tear rolling down Mum’s face. And it’s Mum who breaks the silence,

            I am soproud of you

Mum lunges forward and hugs me. A big, loving, bearhug in front of the whole room. Over her shoulder, I can see Mrs Slesser, smiling. Everyone is smiling, even the Policewoman. I should feel embarrassed, but I don’t. It feels good to be hugged by my Mum. 

The weird thing is, I’m not in trouble any more. The situation is exactly the same as when I entered the room, but now everyone’s smiling. All except me. Because nothing has changed. Mia is still going to die.

Mrs Slesser chips in,

I think we’re done here. Jan, this obviously a cause that is close to your heart and the fact that you care about nature is a wonderful thing. I wish you all the best with your protest and all the best in life.

On the way out, Mrs Slesser asks Mum how my Dad is doing. Mum replies,

            We find out tomorrow.

Mum never told me that. I have spent so long thinking about Mia that I’d forgotten to worry about Dad. Maybe I am a bad person after all?

• ​

For Mum, it’s the Call to Action she’s been waiting for: supporting her son in his brave battle against the Evil Empire! Ignoring the fact that it was her idea to drain the pool in the first place, she is now passionate about saving it. Mum may not be able to save the life of her husband, but she can save the pool. Maybe.

Mum goes into overdrive, contacting journalists and knocking up banners. My cause becomes her cause, while I am ignored.

• ​

I watch Dad while he sleeps. He’s thin, but it suits him. His fringe is lop-sided. Mum cut it while his head was slumped to one side, then when he sat up straight, it looked wonky. I want to cut it properly but it’s only us who see him and neither of us care. 

He’s a good man, my Dad. You’d like him. He’s funny. He reads books about spies and Russia. There’s one by his chair. There’s a blond woman on the cover, who looks a bit like my Mum.

On Dad’s bedside table is a glass of water. I put my finger in it, to see if Mia is in there, but she’s not. It’s just a glass of water. My finger is wet, so I use it to stroke Dad’s fringe to one side, make it straight. A drip falls from my finger and trickles down his cheek. It looks like a tear. It’s feels like we’re saying goodbye.

• ​

Morning.

I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. Downstairs, I can hear Mum bashing and clashing. She has the radio on full-blast, a song about ‘sisters doing it for themselves’. This is the day she’s been waiting for, the day of the protest, when her son becomes a man.

In Mum’s head, this is the day when I am transformed from a nervous wreck into a mighty leader of justice. When her brave hero rises up from the bedsheets and demands that nature be saved. The only one flaw in that plan is that I am not a hero. I’m just me.

At first, it seemed like a good idea, standing in front of a truck, but now that I come to think about it, it’s a really dumb thing to do. My head is full of questions:

What if I’m squashed?

What if I’m not tough enough to stare down a truck?

What if no one turns up but my Mum?

Why am I sacrificing my life to save the life of an immortal?

It’s me who needs saving, from my crummy life!

Mum shouts up the stairs,

            Jah-haan, it’s time to get up and save the little animals.

How embarrassing is that? I pull the duvet over my head. There’s a hole in it. I can still see the ceiling. There’s a crack in the ceiling and that’swhat makes me angry enough to spring out of bed. Lauren’s Dad built this house and it’s falling apart, just like the people in it.

I stomp into the bathroom, snatch my toothbrush and turn on the tap, hoping to hear Mia’s voice. She’s not there. Maybe she’s hiding? Maybe she knows that today, her home will be sucked off the face of the earth. 

I look in the mirror at ‘The Stain’, and you know what, who am I kidding? It’s not THE stain, it’s MY stain. It’s not attachedto my face, it ismy face. It looks like it’s been in a car crash and today it will be, when I stand in front of a truck. But I don’t care. I’m fed up with hoping that things will get better. I’ve had itwith hoping that someone, somewhere, will make the bad things stop. There’s only person who can do that and it’s me. Maybe I am a hero after all?

I enter Dad’s bedroom to say goodbye, as we both may not be here tomorrow. If this were a movie, Dad would be backlit by amber sunlight, there’d be a heavenly choir and the camera would shoot me from the right-hand side, to hide MY stain. Dad would say something wise then they’d fade up the sound of the orchestra and we’d both be bathed in white light.

But this isn’t a movie. The room is dark and smells of sick. There’s no big outpouring, no big drama, just me and my Dad holding hands. 

            Good luck with your protest.

            Good luck with your test.

It’s us, against the world.