There's Something About Carly

There’s something about Carly. She’s pretty, although she’s not the prettiest. She’s clever, but she’s not the cleverest. But she’s the one. She’s definitely the one.
Jamie saw her first. In fact, they go back years. Not that David will let something like that stand in his way. What David wants he usually gets. And anything he can’t get his mum gets for him.
Bev Parker knows what it is about Carly. It’s charisma. In every class she’s ever taught there’s been someone. This year it’s Carly. The one that attracts the others like a magnet, draws them to her without even trying. They stroke her hair, they bring her sweets, they fight to sit next to her. She doesn’t make them. They just do it.
Even Bev feels it. If she had to pick someone to bring home and keep it would probably be Carly. She’s the kind of child about whom you can write they’ve been ‘a delight to teach’ and actually mean it. Bev usually finds the boys easier, more straightforward, but there’s none of the normal girly bitchiness about Carly, she’s never heard her say anything mean. It’s the way she sits on the carpet too, her back straight, her hair shining, her face open and attentive. “Look at Carly. I can see she’s ready to learn.” Bev can say. And the others don’t need much encouragement to look.
Nothing but the best is good enough for David Shipley. That’s why he likes Carly. He knows she’s the best. The sharpest pencil, the bounciest ball, the biggest apple, he has to have them all. He grabs what he wants and no one ever tries to stop him. He’s not the easiest child to warm to. Debbie, the teaching assistant, calls him Catalogue Boy. Blond hair, wavy but not too curly, blue eyes, the kind of long eyelashes only little boys ever seem to have, straight white teeth. Bev hopes he’ll lose his looks as he gets older. It might make him a bit more likeable.
His mother doesn’t help. She’s hardly said a civil word to Bev since she made him the donkey in the nativity. Mrs Shipley had been counting on at least a Wise Man, maybe Joseph, although the costume wouldn’t be so flattering. Still, it would have been practically name above the title – David Shipley IS Joseph. Bev won’t admit it but she did it for spite. She got a cruel satisfaction from hiding that blond hair under a grey hoodie and donkey ears and watching David crawl on his hands and knees to Bethlehem behind Carly and Jamie Spencer. There was educational value in it. She was trying to teach him some humility.
Everyone likes Carly, but Jamie adores her. Always has done, ever since their eyes met across a crowded private nursery. He’d do anything for her. He’s going to marry her when he grows up. That’s if David Shipley doesn’t get there first.
Jamie Spencer is the kind of child you miss if you’re not careful. There’s just nothing remarkable about him, no distinguishing characteristics, no special needs, no great achievements, no outstanding episodes of delinquent behaviour. A generic child, Bev thinks, although that seems harsh, because she’s fond of him. He’s low maintenance, steady, reliable. Jamie’s not the type to let you down.
Jamie brings presents for Carly. A melting Kit Kat wrapped in a tissue, a picture he has drawn at home, a flower from his garden. She receives them graciously, always smiles and says thank you. Then she puts them in her bag and forgets them and her mum throws them out at the end of the week, never knowing they’re tokens of Jamie’s undying love.
David’s birthday is coming up. He’s having a party, a big party somewhere with a children’s indoor play area. Carly’s the only girl who’s invited. Jamie’s the only boy who isn’t, probably because David hasn’t registered his existence. Carly gets her own pink party bag. It’s full of hairbands and fluffy pencils and even a sparkly skipping rope. David’s mum has spent a fortune. Carly loves it. She brings it to school to show. She practises her name with one of the fluffy pencils. She skips outside with the sparkly rope. She does these things all week and she sits next to David in the milk circle. She chooses him as her partner in PE. They hold hands. Only Bev notices the look on Jamie’s face.
Jamie goes into a decline. That’s the only way Bev can describe it. He doesn’t eat his lunch. He mopes listlessly in the building corner. A couple of times he even whimpers and clings to his mum when she brings him in the morning. His mum can’t understand it. She says he normally loves coming to school. Bev knows what’s wrong, but she won’t tell. She doesn’t want him still trying to live it down when he’s sixteen. She says she’ll keep her eye on him.
She does. She keeps him by her on the carpet. He rests his head on the seat of her chair and sucks his thumb. She strokes his hair. She keeps him busy with little jobs – giving out the milk, putting toys away, counting out biscuits for snack time. She makes him feel special. He cheers up a bit, but Carly’s still holding David’s hand.
At hometime, David bursts through the door at the front of the line. He charges to his mum and grabs the sweets from her outstretched hand. They’re not the right kind. He explodes. His face turns red and he bellows, not a word but an angry sound that makes everyone stare. He jumps up and down shaking his hands, his fists clenched. His lunchbox crashes onto the concrete and bounces, cracking open and scattering crusts and half eaten biscuits. David’s mum shrugs and laughs nervously. “Silly Mummy’s got it wrong again.” she says to the tutting parents. Bev looks at Jamie, who’s leaning against the wall waiting to be collected. He meets her eye and gives a little grin. She’s sure he rolls his eyes. He’s the kind of child who grows on you.
One morning, at playtime, Carly trips and falls. She’s been skipping, and the handle of her rope digs into her stomach. It will leave an ugly bruise. She grazes her chin and her hands. No one’s ever seen her cry before. She is led to First Aid and Jamie leaves his game and follows her. He pulls a chair close to where she’s sitting, gasping and shivering with shock. He puts his arm round her and pats her shoulder. Playtime ends.
David walks past them on his way back into the classroom. He glances at Carly as though she’s a stranger which, like this, she is. He’s faintly repulsed by the blood and snot. Bev sees it. She imagines Carly and David twenty years on – Carly in labour with their first child, sweaty and exhausted, David standing aloof, his nose slightly wrinkled, looking at his watch and wondering if she’ll be finished in time for his Friday night with his mates. Carly deserves better.
Bev hatches a plan. It’s time for their class assembly, the one all the parents come to watch. They decide they’ll act out Cinderella. Bev puts on her special thinking face and places her finger on her chin. “I wonder who’d make a good Prince Charming?” She knows what they’ll all say, and so does David. In fact he’s practically up on his feet before anyone’s said anything. Everything’s going to plan. “Now then,” she says “who shall we choose to be Cinderella?” David points at Carly, as though it’s his decision alone. No one disagrees. They wouldn’t dare. They know he’d tell his mum if they did
“Remember, Carly was Mary at Christmas, I think we should give someone else a chance.” says Bev. The girls do what they always do when there’s a chance of being picked for something. They sit up straight, holding their breath, arms folded, lips clamped together. Bev’s eyes light on Gemma Carter. Gorgeous, if you like Barbie dolls. Her face will be her fortune. It’ll need to be. A child who thinks patent high heeled boots are suitable for a day in the sand pit. Definite WAG potential. Bev smiles. “I think Gemma would make an excellent Cinderella with all that beautiful blonde hair and her lovely smile.” It’s decided.
Gemma is beside herself with joy as she steps from the chorus line into the limelight in her inappropriate footwear. She is a resounding success in her role. It doesn’t stop there. In the following weeks she blossoms. She is Star of the Week and gets to wear a special badge. Her painting is chosen to be displayed in the entrance hall. She becomes a line leader, a role newly created by Bev. So does David. They are the Posh and Becks of Reception. David’s mum invites her to tea.
Carly’s not bothered. Not at all. She has no ego, she doesn’t crave attention. That’s what makes her special. She likes David, but then she likes everybody. Jamie wants to come to school again. He and Carly get made milk monitors and pass round the cartons every day, taking care not to drip on the carpet, which makes it smell. They do a good job. They’re a team. When they’ve finished they sit in their own special place in the circle, and sometimes Carly even lets Jamie hold her hand.