What My Mum Will Never Know
By Sarah Mooney aged 16

Pippa trudged wearily through the front door and unceremoniously chucked her bag and coat in a heap on the hall's wooden floor. "Mum, I'm home," she called to the apparently lifeless house. "Oh, hi darling," came her mum's voice from somewhere within, "I'm in the study." That Pippa could have guessed without much difficulty. Where else would she be with a deadline so close? Tucked away in the study, typing fracticly on the computer in the hope of actually finishing the book.

She made her way through, leaving a trail of mud in her wake: mud her shoes had gathered from the detour she'd taken through the woods on the way home to avoid seeing Jessica and the others. In the study she found her mother sitting at the desk, the computer in front of her, surrounded by an assortment of hand-written and typed sheets. Amongst the paper capped work surface was a tray bearing the remains of a half eaten microwave lunch and five or six semi-drunk cups of coffee dotted around it, a few lying on their sides, the dregs of their forgotten contents spilled over the side. The room resembled that of one a hurricane had raged through: carefully destroying each corner in turn before leaving to cause destruction in pastures new. As Pippa entered, her mother unwillingly pulled her eyes away from the monitor to look at her daughter. Her face was pale and there were dark bags beneath her eyes. Most of her brown, grey streaked hair had been pulled dismissively away from her face, haphazardly held back with a large clip. Here and there, rebellious strands that had managed to evade being captured in the clip's claw-like grips, hung messily down around her face. The look was far from flattering. "Have you had a break Mum?" Pippa asked concerned. "What? Oh no - not yet," her mum looked slightly guilty "but I'm fine anyway," She didn't look it.

Pippa knew it wasn't only down to the writing. How many times had she heard her mum get up in the night and go to the bathroom, get herself a drink or else take another couple of pills in an attempt to knock herself out. Her mum was still having trouble sleeping but she wasn't the only one. If Pippa wasn't lying restlessly awake dreading the day that followed, she was amid some horrible dream. A dream that she'd wake up from and realise wasn't merely a dream, but instead a memory of something that had actually happened only the day before. Then she too would remain awake. "So how was school?" her mum asked, a genuine look of interest formed on her worn-out face despite the fact her hands, Pippa could see, almost twitching in desperation to get back to the keyboard and tap furiously on it once more. Pippa had seen that coming; it was the question her mother asked her every day after school; it was the one she already had an answer to, long before the question had even touched her mother's lips. It was the same one she gave every day on being asked. The same lie. How could she even find the words to explain what school was like for her now? How could she begin to construe what it felt like being faced with and coming home from that place every day?

It had started in registration one morning, two months ago. Two lifetimes ago. Pippa had arrived at the classroom just before the first bell and on making to sit down beside Jessica, found her usual seat already filled by Gillian. Slightly put out, she tried not to show it and giving them both what she hoped was her usual friendly smile, sat down beside Vicky who was at the desk directly behind. It was only as she sat there, trying to get a conversation going with Vicky, who herself was uncharacteristically cold and pointedly ignored her as soon as their other friend Natasha walked in, that Pippa knew something was up. As she had sat down, Jessica turned round to look at her and instead of issuing some sort of greeting, whispered something to Gillian, who also glanced behind and laughed. It made Pippa feel uneasy especially when they seemed to be avoiding her throughout the day, despite the fact she was with at least one of them in each of her classes. The next registration class, it was the same, except this time Vicky and Natasha moved their seats beside Jessica's to form a tight circle along with Gillian. When Pippa tried to join in, they simply ignored her. The registration after that, Pippa sat alone. A week that went on for and during that time, Pippa would have given anything for them to notice her again. Had she been able to see what would happen next however, she would have happily have settled for being invisible.

The doodles on her jotter were silly; they just meant Pippa had to spend the whole Maths lesson hiding the cover of her jotter from Mrs Taylor who had forbade the class from putting anything other than their name on the front of them, and then cover it with new paper when she got home. It wasn't that bad, even when it happened twice. The loud remarks from behind her as she walked to and from classes were hurtful especially since they were from people who were meant to be her friends. But at least she could feign deafness and hold in her tears, which became more forceful with every repercussion, until she could get to a toilet. And at least she could run home when they followed her shouting and laughing on the walk back from school. It was the paint on her drawing in Art and the stealing of her PE kit which she couldn't ignore so easily. Not when she had to explain to her exasperated Art teacher, already sick to death of the boys using the room as a battle ground for paint fights, that she needed more paper to start what had been a week's worth of work again. Or else, repeatedly having to endure the lecture about being organised from her PE teacher before being made to stay in and write lines at lunch time. Things got steadily worse. Pippa knew it was Jessica who was the source of it all. Who else had the power to turn the rest of the group against someone? They only did it because they were scared she'd turn against them. Pippa had seen Jessica pick on others before, and though she had never properly joined in, she had never done anything to stop it. She felt sickened with herself for standing back and letting it happen now that she knew how it felt to be on the receiving end. At the time she had felt it was better to have Jessica as your friend than your enemy. She thought that by going along with it, Jessica would never do anything to her. A lot of good that had done now.

The thing with Jessica was that she picked on a person for a reason. Michelle Logan had got the lead role in the school play: the part Jessica had wanted; Jack MacMillan was the best in the year at Maths; Harriet Burrows was strange and had no friends. Jessica had hated all of them but she was never nasty to one of her friends. Not until now. Pippa knew she must have done something to outrage Jessica. Something that would make her attitude towards her literally change overnight. The more Pippa thought about it, the more she became sure what it was, though the reason was so petty : the Art Competition. Pippa had came second and Jessica third in an drawing competition their school had ran. Pippa hadn't even got first place, that was Gavin Lee, but as far as Jessica was concerned, Pippa had still beaten her and she couldn't stand it. Being best friends since Primary 1 and going to each other's birthday parties for the last eight years had meant nothing in the end and all because of Jessica's jealousy over a silly school art prize, Pippa was left face this every day. It wasn't fair. She desperately wanted to find some way to make it stop. Telling her guidance teacher had crossed her mind but then the teacher would surely tell her mum and there was no way Pippa wanted her to know what was going on.

Her mother had enough to worry about. The problems had started with Pippa's dad dying a year ago. That had come as a shock and her mum was still finding it hard to get over it. Things had been really bad for a while when she had been at her lowest. Pippa only had to think about the tablets the doctor had prescribed to her mum, sitting up there in the bathroom cabinet, to know that she didn't need some other bad thing to face. Not when she was only just starting to get better. And now of course, there was the added pressure of getting her latest book to meet the deadline. Her mum was an author but she hadn't had a book published since before Pippa's dad died. There had been a large amount of pressure on her to write something that was as good as her first three books and she had been worrying a lot about it lately. No, there was no way Pippa would want her mum getting upset and worrying about her. So instead she gave her the good answer; the one she knew her mother wanted to hear. Not the one that included telling how bad things had become over the last few months due to Jessica and the others.

In a way it was easier to lie. It meant she didn't have to relive it here at home. She could try to forget. Until the next school day. Home was the only happiness she had now. Why would she ruin the good things she and her mum had there, with tales of school? She still had love and happiness here; as long as she didn't display her feelings about school, she could live a semi-happy existence.

Pippa looked at her mother, ready to give her daily performance. Hoisting onto her face, the most convincing smile she could manage, she stared her mum straight in the eye and gave her the answer. The lie. "Oh it was fine, I'm doing great." "That's good darling, I'm glad" Her mum smiled up at her from her pale and worn face before turning back to the computer, ready to start typing once more. Pippa left the study and went to clean up the mud she had left in the hall, just as she had done the day before, so that her mum wouldn't see it. Then she went into her room and cried just as she had yesterday. Quietly, so her mum wouldn't hear