Page 9 of Just Watch Me
“What’s the problem?” he asked, which was the moment Georgia came running up and threw herself into his arms. He lifted her up, and she clung to him, buried her face in his neck, and said, “You smell very nice. I love you so, so much, Daddy.”
See?Onewoman approved of his grooming standards. Unfortunately, she was five years old. “I love you too, Georgie girl,” he said. “What’s happened, though? Somebody kill another rat?”
Georgia gasped. “I didn’t kill Gladys! I didn’t! I didn’t!” Working herself up again.
Scarlett sighed.“Dad.You’re hopeless. Maybe you should read about emotional intelligence. I could share the lessons from my Social and Emotional Learning class.”
“Or,” Zane said, “I could see where I’ve gone wrong and adjust my strategy. That works, too. The rat was a joke, Georgie. A bad one. What’s the trouble, then?”
Duncan wandered in chewing on an apple. “Hi, Dad.” He came close enough for Zane to ruffle his hair, and that was all. But then, he was eight. “I had an idea today. Brilliant, I think.”
Zane took a better look at him. That had come out a bit too casual. “And what was your brilliant idea?”
“Dad,”Scarlett said. “Georgia was first!”
“But, see,” Duncan said, “this isforGeorgia. My idea is, we should go to Brissy with you tomorrow. Well, notwithyou, but we could go when you do, and Nan could go with us. We’d miss two school days, but it would be educational, because it’s Australia. We could study the wildlife, and it would take Georgia’s mind off her problems.”
“You’ve been back at school less than two weeks,” Zane said. “That’s a no. You can read about Aussie wildlife, how’s that? Watch a film. There you are. Sorted.”
“It’s not immersive,” Scarlett said. “Doing things in person is more immersive. Like, you could read about rugby andwatch it on TV, but you won’t learn how to actuallyplayrugby from that.”
“I’m sure that’s all true,” Zane said. “And yet you still have to go to school. Suppose somebody tells me what Georgia’s problem is.”
Georgia said, “I had another stomachache. My stomach hurts all thetime.”
“Maybe it’s her appendix,” Duncan said. “Except Nan took her to the doctor today, and he said it wasn’t her appendix.”
“It’s probably something mysterious,” Scarlett said. “A rare disease.”
Zane’s Nan was here now, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “It’s a not-rare disease, is what. Called the I-Don’t-Want-To-Go-To-School-Today Disease. That’s what I think, and that’s what the doctor thinks, too. She works herself up, that’s all. Tea’s ready. Steak and Guinness pie.”
Zane had finally got his trainers off, anyway. He didn’t say, “My meal plan doesn’t include meat pies,” because, (a), saying it hadn’t made any difference so far, and (b), complaining to the grandmother who was spending her golden years looking after your kids was a dick move. He thought,I’ll eat the insides and feel noble about skipping the crust,and said, “Five minutes. I need to talk to Georgia a minute.”
It took a couple of false starts, once they were on the couch, to get to the issue. When Zane had a problem, he identified it, and then he addressed it. Unfortunately, not all kids came in that model. Finally, though, he came up with something that might work.
“When you think about school,” he said, “does your tummy hurt?”
“Yes,”Georgia said, nodding for emphasis. “It hurts somuch.”
“When does it hurt most when you’re actually at school? At lunchtime?”
“Noooo,” she said, pausing to consider. “Lunch is good, and recess is good, and free learning time is good, in the morning, because I can do puzzles or play with bricks and things. My tummy doesn’t hurtthen.”
“Aha,” Zane said. “When does it start to hurt?”
“At reading time.” She stared at him with big brown eyes, her mouth drooping in tragic fashion. “At reading time, it hurts very much. I think I must be allergic to reading. When you’re allergic, you feel sick, and that’s how I feel. And sometimes with maths, when it’s on the big board.”
“Hmm,” he said. “How’s your reading going, then?”
An enormous, gusty sigh.“Terrible.”
“Terrible how? D’you have to read about the … the building of the Egyptian pyramids? Quantum mechanics? The life cycle of the roundworm?”
“I don’t even know what thoseare,”she wailed. “I’m s’posed to be able to read easy things, and Caitlin can read some of them, and Francesca can readallof them and bigger books, too, and even some boys can read them, but I can’t! I can’t read atall!I’m going to fail Year One, because it’s too hard, and I can’t do it!”
“Well, to be fair,” he said, “you’ve only been there a few months.”
“You don’tunderstand,”she said. “I don’t get a star! I don’teverget a star, except four times, and Francesca gets a star almost every time! And we’re s’posed to read a book along with the computer with our parent every night, because Ms. Fairburn reads them into the computer and puts a beep to turn the page, and you’re s’posed to follow the words with your finger. I have to do it with Nan instead of you because of work, except sometimes Nan can’t and Duncan helps me—but Istillcan’t read, and it makes my stomach hurt very much. So I think I should stay home with Nan instead. I’m not clever enough for school, and it makes me too sad, and my stomachalways hurts.” This last part came out in a burst of trembling-voiced honesty.
