Mimi by John Newman Page A

course, looked Sarah straight in the eye. I wished I was as brave as her.
    “So, Crybaby, smile!” she jeered. “Your sister is back home again!”
    “Go away,” Orla growled.
    “Ah, don’t be like that, Specs,” Sarah said in a hurt tone. “We’re only here to cheer up poor sad little Crybaby. Isn’t that right, girls? So sad since her mammy died.”
    When Sarah mentioned my mammy and the girls around her laughed uncomfortably, I felt my jaw tighten and a feeling of hate filled me inside.
    “I don’t know why you are so sad, Crybaby. It wasn’t as if she was your real mother, was it?” continued Sarah.
    Suddenly there was silence. A really deep silence in the school yard. The other girls didn’t laugh. Even Sarah fell silent. Maybe even she knew that she had gone one step too far this time. There was a buzzing in my ears, and for a moment I seemed to be up in the sky, outside my body, looking down on the group of girls in the school yard. Orla and me standing surrounded by the other girls. Sarah standing over me. Ms. Hardy at the top of the steps, stopping and looking across at us, sensing that something had happened . . . or was about to happen.
    Then I exploded. “WHAT? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?” I roared, louder than I have ever roared before. I stepped right up to Sarah so my face was an inch from hers, and she stepped back — but I stepped forward again. There was a monster inside me, and it was not going to stay inside! My eyes were burning into Sarah’s and she didn’t know where to look — she just kept stepping backward, but she could not get away.
    All the children in the school yard were paying attention now. All the games stopped. Ms. Hardy was coming down the steps.
    “YOU ARE A BULLY, SARAH SINCLAIR, AND YOU ARE ONLY HAPPY WHEN YOU CAN MAKE OTHER PEOPLE MISERABLE! YOU ARE A WORM AND YOU’D JUST BETTER CRAWL BACK INTO THE GROUND BECAUSE IF YOU EVER EVER SAY ANOTHER NASTY EVIL WORD ABOUT ME OR ABOUT MY MOTHER OR ABOUT MY FRIEND I WILL KILL YOU!”
    Sarah was backing away fast now. Children were moving aside to let her through, but I wasn’t letting her get away. Both my hands were tight fists and I was just about to punch her hard on her big pointy nose when Ms. Hardy grabbed me and held me back.
    “OK, everybody, the show is over!” she shouted at the other children. “Go back and play!”
    Sarah didn’t need to be told twice. She turned and ran! I tried to go after her, but Ms. Hardy is strong and she held me back.
    “Cool it, Mimi. Cool it,” she was saying as she held me, and there was a little bit of laughter in her voice. “I think Sarah gets the message!”
    But I was still boiling over and I struggled to get free.
    “Deep breaths, Mimi, deep breaths.”
    This time I did what she said and took some deep breaths, and slowly I felt myself calming down a bit and fitting back into my body again. Orla was standing in front of me, her mouth open.
    “Feeling better now?” Ms. Hardy asked. By now she had half-carried, half-walked me up to the top of the steps. Despite what she had said, a lot of curious children had followed us. . . . But there was no sign of Sarah.
    “Yes!” I said. “I’m feeling MUCH better now!”
    Ms. Hardy laughed out loud when I said that.
    “But I’m not saying sorry!” I told her — and I meant it.
    “You most certainly are not,” said Ms. Hardy, but quietly this time so that only I and maybe Orla, who was right beside us, could hear. Then she whispered, “I’m proud of you, Mimi. Be proud of yourself.”
    And that was the first time that I felt really glad that Ms. Hardy was my teacher and not Ms. Addle.
    But I nearly changed my mind again when Ms. Hardy told me before I went home that she would give me detention if I did not do my homework every day from now on.
    So I do . . . and it isn’t so bad, except for math. I just hate math.

Homework isn’t the only thing changing in our house.
    Dad is going back to work part-time. Just for the