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Revenge At Last
By Sara Green

I love to write. That’s a fact. Ask my family. They will tell you. My 16 year old sister, Tracy, with whom I share a bedroom, is endlessly complaining about my pieces of paper lying about the floor. Secretly, I think she’s jealous of me because I always get excellent marks in English and she doesn’t. My mother, an organised freak, can’t stand my essays and poems, lying around on the kitchen table or on the baby’s highchair.

My dad is the only one who shows interest in my writing. He never gets tired of reading it and he always compliments me on it. I think my dad is the best dad in the world. He always defends me from my sister and mother. “Natalie is a very talented and vivacious 14 year old. She loves to write so let her,” he always says.

Everyone in my class thinks I’m a great show off. Everyone except Emma Watson. She’s my best (and only) friend. Emma and I rarely interact with the other kids at school. We keep to ourselves, especially in the lunch break. We sit in the library and quietly discuss important matters. Mostly we discuss all the different ways there are to kill Tracy.

We both hate Tracy. Well... mostly me. Tracy always makes an excuse to kick Emma and me out of our room. She is perpetually making fun of my writing and she always rips it up if she sees it lying around. She really makes me angry, but nothing I do is enough to aggravate her. I was discussing all of this with Emma one day during the lunch break. So far I had quoted 50 different ways to make Tracy suffer, but none of them were terrible enough.

“Why don’t you write something that will embarrass her and show it to her friends,” asked Emma,” You know how she hates to be embarrassed in front of her friends.”

“That’s it!” I shouted suddenly, making Emma choke on her apple. I slapped her on the back to get it out.

“What?” she croaked weakly, reaching for her water bottle.

“A eulogy! I’ll write her a eulogy and stick it up for everyone to see!” I exclaimed excitedly. This time Emma choked on the water.

“A eulogy?” she asked, in between fits of coughing.

“Yes. Only I’ll write embarrassing things about her, not good things,” I explained, getting more and more excited.

“Natalie-” began Emma, shaking her head.

I cut her off, “Yes, and we can make lots of copies and stick it on every notice board,” I continued gleefully. Emma laughed but became serious as she said, “Natalie, she’ll skin you alive.”

“Don’t worry, she’ll get over it eventually,” I said cheerfully.

“Yeah, after she kills us,” returned Emma doubtfully. I sat there expanding on my plot till the bell rang.

“I suppose we could go into hiding,” muttered Emma ruefully, as we entered the classroom.

As soon as I got home I started writing the eulogy. Tracy teased me as usual but I was in too good a mood to mind. Then Tracy started getting nosy, so I met up with Emma at the park to finish it. “We’ll do it on Friday, last day of school,” I informed Emma. She still didn’t think that it was a good idea.

“Just see what I’ve written first,” I begged.

“It had better be worth it!” she warned, taking the papers from me.

“Oh trust me it will,” I answered her, grinning evilly. After half an hour, Emma and I were rolling on the floor with laughter.

“Okay, okay it was an excellent idea!” admitted Emma.

“This stuff is so embarrassing; Tracy’s going to go ballistic!” I gloated.

“I can’t believe that Tracy was afraid of the dark even till the age of twelve!” said Emma, bursting into laughter again. Two mothers with babies stared at us angrily for laughing so loud and this made us laugh even more. I thought that my sides would split. Well, as you can see, we were having a lot of fun. We were there for over two hours. The next day, Emma and I typed up the eulogy during the lunch break. We made about thirty copies, one for each notice board.

“Have you figured out how you’re going to stop Tracy from killing us?” asked Emma hopefully. I smiled. In fact, I had an excellent plan. When we were alone in the library I explained it to her.

“I’ve made a deal with Miranda Hayes; she’s going to let us stay at her house for a few days, and in return I’m going to do her English homework for a week,” I told Emma. Miranda hated English; she’d do anything to get out of it. Emma looked sceptical.

“What and she just agreed to it without asking why?” she asked sarcastically.

“She stopped asking why, after I agreed to do her homework,” I replied smugly.

“Don’t worry, this plan has been pre-meditated, Emma” I said, seeing her worried face.

Finally she consented. “If Tracy doesn’t kill you, I will!” she warned. I shrugged. I was looking so forward to finally getting revenge, that nothing could stop me now.

Friday finally came. It was the last day of school and we didn’t have to go in. Tracy didn’t go anyway; she had a cold. At breakfast I winked at my dad and he winked back.

“Come on Natalie, I’ll drive you to school,” he said, with twinkling eyes. I had let dad into the plot. It wasn’t too hard to convince him of its genius.

“Isn’t it a bit early, Natalie?” asked my mum, whilst trying to get my baby brother, John, to stop spitting out his breakfast onto the floor.

“Emma and I have some stuff to do before school starts,” I answered innocently. She was too busy trying to clean up the mess John was making that she didn’t even hear me. Dad and I slipped out silently. In the car, Dad and I were laughing our heads off.

“I almost feel sorry for Tracy, you know,” chuckled Dad.

“Oh don’t worry Dad, she’ll get over it,” I reassured him. We picked up Emma and soon reached school.

“Good luck guys!” called Dad, as he drove off. I looked at my watch. We were half an hour early.

I grinned at Emma and said, ”Let’s get to work.” We stuck up a paper on each notice board; we even stuck one on the notice board in the staff room! After we’d stuck up the last one, we stood back and admired our handiwork. I’d printed the eulogy on bright neon green paper so that everyone would be sure to notice it as soon as they stepped into the corridor. We heard someone coming so we quickly hid behind the corner and watched.

A group of boys from Tracy’s class were walking down the corridor. One of them saw the bright green paper tacked to the board. “Hey, looks like there’s something new here!” he pointed out to his friends. They started to read it and they were soon rolling on the floor with laughter. They looked around to see who put it there, but we had already left.

Later on when school had finished, Emma and I were at Miranda’s house. We were playing Scrabble but all we could think of was how Tracy’s face would look when she saw her eulogy! I wanted to go home and see it for myself but Emma advised me to stay put if I wanted to live. So we sat there all day giggling nervously and thinking of Tracy’s face. It’s been a week since Friday. I’m grounded for a month and I’m not getting any pocket money for two months. I don’t care. When Mum told me that Tracy fainted when she read the eulogy, I just laughed and told her that I wished that I had been there. My mum was a bit suspicious when Dad didn’t look surprised at the eulogy.

“Mark, you didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?” she asked him, her eyes narrowed.

“Of course not honey,” he said innocently. As soon as she was out of the room we burst out laughing.

Tracy doesn’t bother me anymore, neither at home or at school. She always looks scared when she sees me writing anything. I’ve stuck up a copy of the eulogy on my wardrobe door and though she stares at it contemptuously, Tracy doesn’t touch it.


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