Me Life Story by Scarlett Moffatt (best classic books of all time txt) 📗

stop us chatting (which was stupid as you could still talk), all nervously awaiting the most important news of the year: who was going to play who in the school nativity play (big news when you are nine). I was crossing my fingers and toes tight and muttering to myself, ‘Please not a narrator, please not a narrator’. Followed by, ‘Please not a barnyard animal, not the barnyard animal.’ Hallelujah! I hadn’t been given my role yet and there was only the role I’d been waiting to play my whole life left … Mary.

‘Sorry, Scarlett, I forgot about you there, you will play … Angel number two,’ announced Mrs Henderson cheerfully.

‘Holy Santa Claus shit! Is this real life? I don’t even have a part with a name, I’m not even Angel number one.’

Scarlett’s monobrow strikes yet again; after all, we can’t have an ugly child play the Virgin Mary. That’s what I imagined all the teachers had discussed in the staff room, anyway. For the third year in a row the teacher’s pet, Stacey Vaughn, was given the part of Mary and I was gutted. If only I had perfectly straight hair like Stacey Vaughn instead of looking like Winnie the Witch crossed with Crystal Tipps. If only I had nice delicate eyebrows that looked like little worms rather than one huge bushy slug across my forehead. If only I could have been given the part of Mary.

I was not going back home and telling my mam and dad to get ready to get the old bed sheet, pipe cleaners and tinsel out yet again to make another angel costume. Nope, not happening. So what I did was I slightly manipulated the truth. ‘Sit down, family, I have very exciting news. I am going to be the mam of baby Jesus. That’s right, I got the part of Mary!’ They were buzzing. My mam called my nanny up to tell her the great news.

So a few weeks pass and I’ve helped my mam make the Mary outfit by dyeing an old bed sheet blue and I’ve learnt my Mary lines with the help of my dad. The big night arrives. The curtains open and there I am. Angel number two – you can spot me as I’m the only angel in Bethlehem with cerulean blue undertones to my garment. Stacey came out and gave a performance that Dame Judi Dench would be proud of. As the curtain closed and everyone’s family was allowed into the class for orange dilute and biscuits, I didn’t even dare look at me mam and dad.

‘Sorry,’ I whispered, thinking I was going to get in trouble, but my mam and dad just looked at me. ‘We are proud of you whatever you do, you don’t ever have to pretend to be something you’re not.’ Then the words no child ever wants to hear: ‘We are more disappointed than angry.’

No, not the ‘d’ word, anything but that. This was honestly the biggest lie I have ever told to date – I mean we laugh about this story now, but to be honest it did teach me a valuable lesson. Just be yourself; you should never have to lie to impress people. In the words of Dr Seuss, as read by Mam and Dad during my childhood bedtimes:

‘Those who mind don’t matter and those

who matter don’t mind.’

Chapter Two

HOW IS EVAPORATED MILK THERE IF IT ’S ALREADY EVAPORATED?

During World War II, British soldiers got a ration of three sheets of toilet paper a day. Americans got twenty-two (they must have bigger arses).

The average worker bee produces about one-twelfth of a teaspoon of honey in her lifetime (remember that when you’re smothering it all over your toast).

The original Encyclopaedia Britannica written in 1768 described our solar system as having only six planets. Uranus, Neptune and Pluto (now known as a dwarf planet) were yet to be discovered.

I loved primary school. I genuinely looked forward to sitting on my little, cheap blue plastic classroom chair, constantly knocking my knees on the tray underneath my desk, ready to learn. As I mentioned earlier, I loved learning and being able to fill my brain with facts. My passion for facts is just part of my character. My dad knows loads of facts about history. He always says if you don’t know your history, you can’t know your future. So we’ve always been into history and we’d watch documentaries together. Wherever they were in the programme, we’d actually have to have an encyclopaedia open to find out about that place.

We went old-school because we couldn’t use Wikipedia. We only had dial-up internet, and that would take ages, especially if my mam was on the phone to my nanny. Then we couldn’t get on the internet at all, so we’d be looking through the encyclopaedia. My dad would take me to the library too. We actually liked going to the library. Can you believe that?

This could be where my love of Professor Stephen Hawking stems from. He is my crush. I just love Hawking. He is the cleverest man on the planet – and he adores random facts! I know, of all the men I could have had a crush on – Brad Pitt, say, or George Clooney – but nope, I am all about the Hawking.

I am a huge question asker, much to the annoyance of everyone I know really. My Google search history legitimately looks like an eight-year-old child has pinched an iPhone. Examples of my recent searches:

How do worms eat if they haven’t got a face?

How do I know if I’m real and not just a dream of somebody else?

Are eyebrows facial hair?

Who wrote the Bible?

How is evaporated milk there if it’s already evaporated?

It was 1996 when I first started Timothy Hackworth Primary School, I was five and enjoyed watching Brum or Chuckle Vision on a morning with my Lucky Charms