A Little Joke

05.05.2026, 08:56 blysk.space

A Joke

Emma! Em! Let me copy your work!

The urgent whisper echoed through the classroom, cutting through the morning lull. Lauras voice, desperate as ever, was impossible for Miss Thompson to ignore. The teacher looked up from the register shed been tallying, her sharp gaze catching Laura in the act.

Miss Robbins! Settle down, will you? Do your own work for once.

But Miss, this is hard! Laura grumbled, never one to hold back a complaint.

Who said it had to be easy? Besides, Laura, Emmas got a different test to you. So no luck there.

What? But shes in the front! Laura protested.

Thats right. Miss Thompson raised an eyebrow, almost smirking as she mimicked Lauras whine. I gave her a separate task.

Not fair! Laura grumbled, burying her face in her exercise book for a moment, only to immediately begin looking around for another escape route.

Meanwhile, Emma sat quietly at her desk, hands trembling slightly as she clung to her notebook, afraid even to lift her eyes lest someone catch her gaze.

Everyone knew Emma Hart was the classs resident lifesaver, as the teachers called her. She had the sort of bright mind people couldnt help but rely on. And if she ever refused? Well, the fallout wasnt worth thinking about.

Emma wasnt unkind; she would let people copy, but ever since her mums advice, shed tried to do it without provoking her teachers wrath.

Em, youre the kindest girl I know, her mum said on more than one exhausted evening. But youve got to look after your own interests. To get into the sixth form you want, youll need top marks. Its not worth ruining your record because others cant be bothered to do their own revision.

Her mother was right, Emma supposed, but she always sighed when those words floated through the kitchen. If only she knew how tough it was to be the top pupil in a class where nobody else seemed to care.

Emma had only come to this school after her parents divorced. There were more reasons than she could count, but the final straw, her mum once hinted, was when her former stepbrother was bornwhile her parents were still married. No one ever explained it to Emma. The adults managed their mess; Emma sat in her cramped bedroom with her sketchpad, gloomily filling page after page with black pencils, careful to avoid leaving even a sliver of white.

Her grandmother, the only family member who seemed to see her pain, discovered Emmas drawings first.

Whats this, then? What have you lot done to her? Nan had huffed, indignation high. Though her fathers mother, shed firmly taken Emmas mums side.

Hes just like his father, love. Out on the tiles as much as hes at home. Born to stray, the whole lot. The difference with mine, mind, was hed always wander back. No secret children, though.

And you forgave him?

What choice did I have, Julia? I loved him, didnt I? And I knew, deep down, he loved me too. Otherwise he wouldnt have kept coming back.

Was it hard to forgive?

Thats putting it lightly. Never really did. I just carried on. Looking back, I dont even know why. I suppose you should be grateful he had that child, as painful as it is. Otherwise, I can see it in you, Julie, youd have taken him backwouldnt you?

I dont know It hurts.

I know, love. And so does Emma. Shes caught between you both. Dont punish her for our mistakes, eh? The child isnt to blame.

Youre right. Its our fault.

Then Julia did the unexpected. She sat little Emma down and told her, straight out, what was happening. Emma was only six.

Darling, your dad and I wont be living together any more. Were splitting up.

Why?

We’re divorcing. So it’ll be you and me at home. And you’ll see your dad on weekends. Emma, please dont cry. Look at mehell always be your dad, and hell never just disappear, I promise!

And you? Emma smeared rebellious tears across her cheeks. Adults were so foolish, she thought, always making messes their own way.

Im not going anywhere, Em.

Only then did Julia see what her daughter had feared all along, the sadness hidden in those blackened sketchbook pages. It took timehours of patience and talkingto help Emma understand, to convince her that nothing would make her mother leave too. But in time, things settled. Emma saw her father, not as much as she would have liked, but enough to learn: hed left her mum, not her. He still spoiled Emma, and he and Julia made sure Emmas life went undisturbed. Emma even grew close to her little brother, playing with him, growing to like her stepmotherRebecca, who was kind and never saw Emma as an obstacle.

But what happened left scars. Sometimes Emma wondered if her father had left because she simply wasnt enough. After all, he seemed so content with Rebecca and her brother. Why not with her?

Her mum and nan reassured her often, but the worm of doubt gnawed quietly at her heart, rearing its ugly head whenever she most needed to feel confident, especially at school.

At first, it wasnt obvious. So her knees trembled when, in year one, she was asked to recite a poem at assembly. Shed rehearsed for a full week with her mum, standing in front of the mirror and reciting with feeling, certain she had it memorised. In nursery, the teachers had always trusted Emma with the toughest lines. But this time, as she clutched the microphone, catching sight of her family in the crowd, her mind went blank. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she couldnt utter a single word.

The deputy head, the one who had handed her the microphone, crouched down, wiped Emmas tears with her palm, and whispered, Tell me later, alright?

Emma managed a teary nod.

Fortunately, Miss Thompson remembered. At the end of the day, she waited for Emma outside the school gate.

There you are! Will you tell me your poem? Id really love to hear it.

Perhaps it meant little to an adult, but for Emma, it meant everything. She straightened, let go of her mums hand, and recited the poem, word perfect. The nearby adults clapped in admiration.

Well done! I knew you could do it, Miss Thompson smiled.

But I couldnt on stage Emmas eyes watered anew.

Nonsense! You managed brilliantly just now, didnt you? Does it matter when you did it? Emma, youre fantasticthats a fact! Take it from your deputy head. Understand?

I think so

Emma kept that moment close to her heart. When Miss Thompson became her form tutor in secondary school, Emma was secretly relievedhere was someone who was on her side. Someone safe. Someone whod always understand.

Miss Thompson looked out for Emma.

Emmas a sensitive soul. Clever, yes, but fragile. She needs protecting. Have you thought about a maths-focused school, Julia? Emmas got real ability and, frankly, she needs a cohort just as dedicated. Were a good school, but, well were just ordinary. Most of her classmates arent fussed about studies. Emma tries so hard not to stand outalmost as if shes wrapping herself up in three duvets and tying herself in knots. You see?

Julia nodded, but what could she do? The maths college was across town, and nobody had time to ferry Emma there. Her fathers new baby was due soon, her nan was poorly, and Julia worked two jobs to afford a place larger than the poky one-bed flat theyd been left after the divorce.

Em, just hang on a bit longer. Once things calm down, Ill sort out your schoolpromise? Julia would close her tired eyes and hug Emma close on the battered sofa, bathed in the glow of the television.

Mum, dont worryI can manage

Hows school then?

Its alright! Emma said as cheerfully as she could manage, hiding the truth.

Its not alright and you know it! Julia would tickle her, trying to wheedle the truth out, until Emma dissolved into giggles and finally gave in, spilling her worries.

No one openly bullied Emma, but shed hear the whispers:

There she goes again, showing off. Did you hear her answer in history? After THAT, the rest of us wont get decent marks. Couldnt she just give a normal answer for once?

No one said this to her faceuntil one day, things changed.

Emmaten minutes left! If you dont help me now, Im stuffed! Laura hissed, her panic infectious. Emma relented and nudged her rough paper in Lauras direction, the anxiety of being caught almost overwhelming.

Miss Thompson, distracted by a flurry of emails on her phone, didnt notice.

Ben, Emmas desk partner since primary, quietly slid his notebook towards her so she could check Lauras maths questions.

Thanks, Emma whispered, pointing out a mistake. Ben didnt need explanations; theyd been friends long enough to only need a nudge. A few numbers scribbled on her draft and Ben was correcting his answer.

Her rough paper glided discreetly onto Lauras desk, and the rest of the lesson passed in silence.

But as soon as the bell went, the chaos erupted.

What is wrong with you? Sitting there like a statue! End of term! Ill fail if you dont help. Some friend you are! Laura banged a fist on Emmas desk.

Laura, thats not fair! Emmas voice was calm, but inside, anger simmered. Why should she be responsible for everyone else?

Nans voice echoed in her mind. When she was cross, Nan would swap out curse words with a sharp, What on earth is going on? and made Emma promise never to pick up mums rougher language.

Youre a lady, Emma. Not a docker. So act like one!

But you curse, Nan! I heard you!

Doesnt count! Im past my sell-by date. I might curse and puff a fag if I want, but its not for you! At my age its charm, at yours its crude. Take it from meboys want mystery, not sailors vocab from a girl your age.

Boys swear too! Why cant I?

Doesnt matter! What men can get away with, we cant. Thats just how it is. You dont want to be one of the lads, do you? Theyll never marry one of their matesdont forget it.

Was it like that with Mum and Dad?

To an extentbut thats their story. Ask them. Just remember: be kind, but keep your softness. Its your superpower. All the restthats just noise.

Emma stifled a laugh even through her frustration.

Now, she really wanted to curse Laura out but something inside told her to hold back. It wouldnt solve anything.

Lay off her, Laura, Ben muttered,

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