Super Stories for Climate Heroes! (Money Heroes KS2 Chapter Book) by Young Enterprise

Super Stories for

CLIMATE Heroes 2 stories in 1

You'r e ne too s ver ma to ma ll ke a differ ence!

E.L. norry

Illustrated by Iris Amaya

Super Sto ries for

CLIMATE Heroes 2 stories in 1

E.L. norry

Illustrated by Iris Amaya

Supported by

Money Heroes is a programme from Young Money, supported by HSBC UK. Young Money is part of Young Enterprise, a registered charity (charity number: 313697)

Published in the UK by Scholastic, 2021 Euston House, 24 Eversholt Street, London, NW1 1DB Scholastic Ireland, 89E Lagan Road, Dublin Industrial Estate, Glasnevin, Dublin, D11 HP5F SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc. Text © E. L. Norry, 2021 Illustrations in the style of Iris Amaya by Damien Barlow © Scholastic, 2021 Cover illustration by Iris Amaya © Scholastic, 2021 Designed by Plum5 Limited The right of E. L. Norry to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. ISBN 978 07023 1491 9 Ebook ISBN 978 07023 1516 9 A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without prior written permission of Scholastic Limited. Printed in the UK by Bell and Bain Ltd, Glasgow Paper made from wood grown in sustainable forests and other controlled sources. 1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. www.scholastic.co.uk

Contents Food, Glorious Food

The Gift of Thrift

Food, Glorious Food

“I’m stuffed!” Ashok said, rubbing his stomach and groaning, as he pushed his bowl of lamb curry to one side. “What’s for pudding?” It was Sunday evening. Ashok’s dad had just left for his shift at the hospital and his mum was dragging damp clothes out of the washing machine into a laundry basket. Mum looked up and rolled her eyes. “You just said you’re full!” Ashok grinned. “Mum, you know there’s always room for pudding!” “Finish what’s in your bowl, please,” said Mum. “There are children—” “—starving, yeah, I know.” This wasn’t the first time Mum had told Ashok to 5

finish up his food. The trouble was, she always made such massive portions, and he could never finish what she served. Dad reckoned she missed the twins who’d recently left home to go to university. Ashok had one more mouthful and then scraped the rest into the bin. “Mum, do we buy fair trade?” “Fair what?” “Fair trade. We were learning about it last week. Tomorrow I’ve got to bring in a list of any fair trade products we use round the house.” His mum shrugged. “Don’t think so.”

Ashok said, “We should start buying some. Support a global organization that gets farmers better prices and working conditions – they’re doing good.” He put the plug in the sink and added washing-up liquid. He squeezed out a cloth and then wiped down the kitchen table and worktops carefully. “You’re so helpful.” Mum smiled at him. “Thanks, love. Actually, fair trade…? Is that those little green-andblue stickers on things?” Ashok nodded. “That’s right. They give money towards communities to provide stuff like schools and clean water.”

“Well, I do always buy fair trade bananas.” “But we could get coffee and other things too.” “I just buy whatever’s in the shop, love. It’s not really up to me.” “But shops will stock what customers choose to buy – so if more people buy fair trade, then they’ll get more in.” “Maybe I will then. If they’re not much more expensive,” she paused. “You’re right. Everyone should have the same opportunities.” The front door slammed, and their dog Rufus, asleep under the kitchen table, started yapping. “Shh, Rufus!” Ashok said. “It’s just the boy wonder!”

“How was your first day?” Mum called out to Zhiming, while shaking out a bedsheet before hanging it over the clothes rack. “I’m exhausted!” Zhiming slung his backpack onto a chair and slumped into it. “Mum, seriously – I don’t know how you manage two jobs and look after us as well.” Zhiming was sixteen. Four years older than Ashok, and he’d just got his first part-time job, washing up in the kitchens of the fancy new celebrity restaurant in town. “The key is to find something you enjoy like me at the library and tutoring – then it doesn’t feel like work.” “Well for now all I’ve got to look forward to is being elbow deep in dirty, greasy water.” Zhiming laughed. “It’s kinda hard for someone my age to find their life purpose and get paid for it. Who’d pay me to play video games?” Mum smiled. “Working hard for what you want sets a good example for Ashok, and you’re getting valuable experience too.” 9

Ashok glanced up. “Doing a hard day’s work worn you out, has it?” he joked. “What can I eat?” Zhiming opened the fridge and peered inside. “Mum, I’m starving!” “Didn’t they feed you at work? I thought that was part of the deal.” Zhiming shrugged. “Yeah, they did offer, but I didn’t really want to try goat or rabbit.” He pulled a gagging expression. “Poor little Peter Rabbit, getting gobbled up like that, bit of parsley sprinkled over his ears.” “Seriously?” Ashok asked, eyes wide. “That’s on the menu?” “Yep.” Zhiming nodded. “Enough to make anyone turn vegetarian, right?” “Not this again!” Mum rolled her eyes. “Zee. You’re growing. You need protein for all that muscle you’re desperate to build. Meat!” Zhiming sighed. “No Mum, I really don’t.” “Don’t come complaining to me when you’re too weak to move…” she tutted. “But there’s enough protein in soya and beans and—” Mum held up a yellow rubber glove and flapped it towards Zhiming. “Don’t you lecture me on food, young man.”

Ashok didn’t like it when his mum and brother got into it. This conversation had been going on in their house for weeks now: Zee grumbling about meat consumption being bad for digestion and the environment. But Mum insisted that protein was important, and that meat was the best way to get it. “There’s loads of lamb curry left.” Ashok told Zhiming, feeling suddenly bad for the portion he’d just thrown away. Thank goodness Mum had made too much! Zhiming ladled curry into a bowl and grabbed a chapati.

Mum handed Ashok the laundry basket. “Could you hang up those last few bits please? You’ve got the living room to yourselves for an hour, but lights off at nine, Ash.” The boys nodded and headed into the living room. Zhiming put his bowl down and loaded up his favourite video game, while Ashok hung up the last few socks on the radiators.

“What’s it like then? Working?” asked Ashok. Zee sighed. “I’m so tired, Ash. I’ve been on my feet since lunchtime – that’s six hours. It was boiling hot, tiring and sweaty, and the dishes never stopped coming. But we made loads of tips; they get shared out between the kitchen and waiting staff.” “Did you meet Mick, the guy from TV?” The owner was a celebrity chef, famous for yelling at people and making them cook strange foods. “Nah. Apparently, sometimes he randomly drops in, but otherwise leaves everyone else to it. Tell you what though, they chuck out a ton of food. I couldn’t believe my eyes at the end of the shift.” Ashok handed Zhiming another controller and they started playing Race2Glory 2. “Really? Is the food that bad?” “No, it’s not that. I emptied the bins and there was literally a mountain of food, just all mashed together.” Zee held up his hands to waist height. “Like, some of it – well, there wasn’t anything wrong with it. The chefs are picky about presentation, and because customers read reviews and expect perfection… If a plate has the tiniest mistake – like a dribble of dressing wrong – the chefs just lose it and throw it away!” 14

Ashok felt his cheeks burn as he remembered scraping away his lamb curry from earlier. His mother was right; children were starving all over the world and he hadn’t even thought twice. * * *

The next day at school, Ashok kept thinking about what Zhiming had said about the food getting thrown away at his restaurant. That didn’t sound fair. In their PSHE lesson, they’d had a class discussion about homeless

people. Even some families in this town couldn’t afford to eat, it wasn’t only far-off places that needed help. Their teacher told them about food kitchens and food banks – both of which sounded like they helped others and didn’t waste food. But clearly, not everyone did that. If this fancy new restaurant threw out food at the end of each shift, food which was okay for people to eat, how could that be right? But maybe the restaurant didn’t know about the food banks and kitchens here. Maybe Ashok could go and tell them! Ashok’s friend, Aleia tapped him on the arm. “Coming to lunch?” she asked. “Hang on,” Ashok said, moving up the line that was queuing for the water fountain. “Just refilling this.” “Seen my new flask?” Aleia held up a silver and black flask. “You should get one.”

Ashok put his plastic bottle under the spout and refilled it. “But I don’t have soup.” “It’s not just for soup. You can put anything inside.” She nodded towards his plastic water bottle. “It’s bad to buy plastic water bottles.” “Is it?” Ashok shrugged. “Why?” “If you keep throwing them away and then buying more – not good for the environment, is it?” “Suppose not.” Aleia nodded. “I heard a podcast about it.” She looked around for a free table in the dining room and pointed to it. “I’ll see you over there.”

When Ashok queued for his hot school lunch, he suddenly had a thought. “Do you throw food out?” he asked the dinner lady serving him up a sloppy portion of lasagne. “What dear?” she asked, leaning forward and pushing her white hairnet back over her ear to hear him properly. “At the end of the day, does the school canteen throw food away?” She peered at him closely. “Oh no.” She looked horrified. “That would be very wasteful.” Good. “So, what do you do with the extra food?” he asked. The dinner lady smiled. “Well, as you can imagine, there’s never any chips left, but we often have sandwiches and salad. At the end of each afternoon, we take it to the homeless shelter. Nice to see you taking an interest, young man.” Ashok was glad that at least their school was being responsible. Sitting next to Aleia, he watched her take out a few different containers. “What’s that you’ve got?” “Leftovers.” “Smells good.” “Yeah, curries are always better the day after, don’t you think?” Ashok thought about how he’d thrown away his curry. “Are they? Mum’s always so worried about food 18

going off, she usually throws it away. She always makes too much too, cooks as if we’ve still got a full house.” “Trust me – they’re so much nicer a day or two later. Ooh, how did Zee’s job go?” Ashok laughed. “He was so tired he fell asleep before me!” “He’s working at that fancy new place that serves fried scorpions and shark?” “Yeah. Their menu sounds pretty out there.”

“Have you been?” “No, not yet.” Ashok wondered what such a fancy place looked like … maybe he could pay it a visit and see for himself. “But Zee says they throw out heaps of stuff.” “Doesn’t sound very responsible!” Aleia mopped up her chickpeas with a roti. “Mind you, how weird have you got to be to eat alligator!”

* * * After school, Ashok’s phone pinged just as he walked through his front door. A text from Zhiming: Could ya bring my pump to the restaurant? Tyre’s flat. Come round the back. Ashok hopped on his bike, clipped up his helmet and peddled along the quiet roads til he reached the back lanes off the high street. He spotted Zee’s bike chained to a lamppost next to the restaurant. The back door was wedged open, and amidst overflowing industrial-sized wheelie bins, Ashok heard the clattering of pots and pans. He poked his head round the door, and through a cloud of steam, saw a red-faced and sweaty Zhiming undo his apron and hang it up. 21

“Nice timing, bro!” He smiled in relief seeing Ashok brandishing the bicycle pump. “Not a fan of the lunchtime session. See ya!” Zhiming said over his shoulder to the others in the kitchen. “Remember what you told me the other day?” Ashok watched Zee pump up his back tyre. “You should speak to your boss about all that wasted food. Is that some of it?” He pointed to a tray of pineapples balanced atop a wheelie bin. “What’s the matter with those?” “They weren’t cubed right.” “That’s so stupid! Complain to someone.” “What? No way!” Zhiming exclaimed. “I’ve just started here. I’m not sticking my neck above the … thingy.” 22

“But it’s wrong if they make so much money and yet dump so much food!” “No one cares!” Ashok said, “Well, I care. In school they told us about the food banks and food kitchens. Why doesn’t this place help, maybe donate food or something?” “Look, they’re not going to do that, are they? Anyway, food banks can’t take stuff like milk and cheese because it goes off too quickly. And if anyone heard the restaurant had given away ostrich steaks, their business would be ruined. Why would anyone come and pay fifty quid for a two-course lunch, hmm? Think about it, Ash. Their reputation.” 23

Zhiming handed the pump back to Ashok and they hopped on to their bikes and cycled home. But Ashok couldn’t stop wondering if Zee had it wrong. Something must be able to be done … he just needed to figure out what it was. If food banks couldn’t take fresh ingredients, surely food kitchens might be able to? * * * At home, as Mum served up dinner, Ashok stared at his heaped plate. “Mum…” he flicked his eyes to Zhiming who was wolfing his food down. “I really … you don’t need to give me such big portions,” he said. “I think you still cook as if Nandita and Rani hadn’t gone off to uni!” His mum smiled, a little sadly. “Maybe you have a point.” She sighed and took off her apron. “I’m just so used to cooking for six!” Ashok smiled. “Be fine tomorrow, I could take it in for lunch! In food tech they taught us about budgeting and buying food. Maybe instead of making so much, if you started budgeting, only buying and cooking for the four of us, then even if fair trade stuff did cost a bit more, we’d be able to afford it!” Mum stared at Ashok, mouth open a little. “Well, well. Good thinking!” 24

Zhiming grinned at them both. “While we’re all coming up with bright ideas… Mum, what do you reckon about going meat free on Mondays? Hmm?”

* * * The next day, after school, Ashok went to the restaurant. A little silver bell jangled over the door when he walked through. A young woman with tattooed arms and flaming red hair glanced up from behind a clear purple Perspex desk. She looked Ashok up and down.

“May I help you?” she asked, kindly enough, although she frowned, as if she couldn’t quite believe that a child stood in front of her. “Is the manager here?” Ashok cleared his throat. He was nervous but what he’d come to say was important. If anything went wrong, then he knew his big brother was in the back. Not that he’d told Zee about his plan to come here. “Erm, no. I’m afraid it’s just me covering the reception and booking area. Why do you need to speak to the manager, hon?” She looked like she was about to laugh, probably thinking he’d just come to get Mick’s autograph. “I … well, I wanted to ask him something. Discuss a … business proposition.” “Why don’t you ask me?” She tilted her head to one side. Ashok blurted out. “Did you know there are homeless people just across the park? This restaurant could get take-out containers and give them the unused food at the end of each night?” “Oh sweetie.” Her smile faded. “That’s a sweet thought and all, but that’s not quite how things work in the real world.” Ashok was confused as to why she was giving him the brush-off; this was the real world!

“But don’t you think it’d be good for the community if you—” “Listen.” Her eyes narrowed. “Seriously – there are way too many public health issues for us to consider donating food. What if someone had an allergic reaction, or got sick? We’re the top new restaurant in this town. Commercially it wouldn’t be … appropriate.” Ashok’s cheeks burned red. He turned and quickly scurried home. Maybe going to the restaurant hadn’t been such a good idea. He hadn’t thought things through. * * * At school, he told Aleia what he’d been up to. Surprisingly, she was on the same side as Zhiming. “Ash! You can’t just go around demanding places change! They might have perfectly good reasons for doing what they do.” Then she gasped. “Or maybe they just didn’t realize anyone knew that they were throwing food away?” Maybe Aleia was right and what the restaurant was doing wasn’t common knowledge, but Ashok thought that everyone should know. If charity began at home, then it made sense for local businesses to help those in need. Their supermarket always donated free meals

for Christmas raffles, so why couldn’t the restaurant do something worthwhile too? Or did they think that different rules applied to them just because the owner was rich and famous? “Aleia, will you help me with something?” “Of course! What do you need?” she asked, smiling.

* * * A few hours later, Ashok and Aleia had sent their latest article to the school newspaper. Aleia’s dad had even shared it on his social media. They’d entitled it ‘Food Waste, Poor Taste’ with a subheading of ‘Don’t be rude – save your food!’ They’d quoted facts and figures about the amount of food going to waste and included questions and suggestions for local restaurants, asking why they didn’t always separate out ‘good but not presented nicely food’ from ‘uneaten leftovers from a customer’s meal’ and suggested an environmentally friendly way to package up the portions.

* * * The next week, at school, after their maths lesson ended, Mrs Haim pulled Ashok to one side. Aleia walked past Ash and pulled a ‘What now?’ face. Ash shrugged. “Could you stop by and see Mr Redman please?” Mrs Haim asked. Ashok frowned. Mr Redman was the Head of Year Seven. What could he want? * * * Ashok knocked on Mr Redman’s door and nervously cleared his throat. “Come in!” Mr Redman shouted. Ashok had no idea what Mr Redman wanted, but to be summoned to his office was pretty dramatic. “Ashok, how are you?” “Fine, sir. Thank you, sir.” Ashok stared at the carpet. Was he in trouble? He didn’t think so. Ashok always tried his best and handed in his homework on time. “Do you happen to know the new restaurant in town?” Ashok froze; he gulped. Mr Redman stared at him, but he didn’t look cross, he was smiling. Ashok nodded. 31

“The restaurant manager called us today. They described you, your school uniform and your recent … complaint and newspaper article.” Ashok closed his eyes, briefly, for a second. Oh no. This was bad… The school would call his mum and he’d get a detention or suspended – and he’d only been trying to help! “Turns out that you brought a very important matter to their attention, actually.” “Really?” “Yes. Their food waste! The head chef has two daughters at this school, and she was very impressed with you raising the issue through writing such an informed and balanced article. She’s raised the matter with Mick himself.” Ashok said, “I did try to speak to them, sir, but they sent me away. I don’t think they took me seriously.” “Well, they certainly did after your newspaper story went viral.” Mr Redman grinned. “It’s all right, Ashok. They’re asking if the school newspaper would like to come down and do a follow-up feature: a positive spin this time? Mick sees it as good publicity – they’re going to donate refrigerators and a delivery van to the local food bank. They’re going to partner with the local food kitchen and develop new recipes from their waste food. And, not only that, but 32

instead of food going to landfill, they’ve promised to review their composting policy. By speaking up, you’ve made a real difference, young man.” 33

* * * A month later, Aleia, Ashok and their families were posing outside the restaurant in front of two new delivery vans. They had their thumbs up and big smiles all round as another flash went off – the picture to go with the latest school newspaper article.

The Gift of Thrift

“How far are the shops?” Summer asked, breathing on the bus window and tracing patterns. Ruby took one earphone out. She’d asked if Summer had wanted to listen – but Summer said listening to music or looking at a phone when travelling made her feel sick. “Four stops away.” Ruby turned up the volume on her phone. “Don’t do that, the driver doesn’t like it.” Ruby couldn’t believe that her half-term was helping Dad’s new girlfriend Catriona, and her daughter Summer, settle in. Ruby and Summer were so different. Summer was eleven, a year younger than Ruby. Summer loved anime and took ages making her mind up about everything: what to eat, where to go. Once, at the cinema, Summer took so long deciding what to watch that they missed 35

the beginning of two films! Ruby never knew what they were supposed to talk about if they weren’t doing some organized activity. Summer pressed her face up against the glass instead. “But what if we get lost?” “We won’t,” Ruby said, firmly. “This isn’t like Manchester. I come shopping every Saturday and have done for ages. The shopping centre is totally enclosed, there’s no roads or anything. And we’ve got our phones, if there is an emergency.”

Summer shook her head. “I don’t have a phone.” “What?” Ruby had been given a mobile for her tenth birthday. Summer shrugged. “Mum says I don’t need one.” She nibbled her fingernails again. “Not right now anyway. Maybe when I go to big school.” “Don’t worry, I’ve got mine. And – just a tip – don’t call it ‘big school’. Sounds baby. Oh look, we’re here!”

Climbing off the bus, Ruby spotted her friends and ran over to them. They threw their arms around each other, squealing. Summer hung back, twisting her hands together, nervously. The three of them stared at her. “Hi,” they said, looking her up and down, smiling. “I’m Mya.” Mya pointed at Summer’s T-shirt. “Ohmygod… I love your top – that’s so cute!” Mya draped her arms around the shoulder of another girl. “This is Yetunde.” “Where did you get it?” Yetunde asked, looking impressed. “It rocks.” Summer grinned. “I made it.” “Really?” Yetunde gasped. “How?” Ruby stared at Summer’s T-shirt, looking at it properly for the first time. “You made that?” It was black with sequins and slashes and looked exclusive. “Originally it was a dress. I upcycled it.” Ruby had no idea what upcycling was and wasn’t about to ask, as she didn’t want to look stupid in front of her friends. She waved a twenty-pound note under Mya’s nose. “Look what Dad gave me!” “How come?” Yetunde said. Ruby grinned. “It’s supposed to be for lunch, but we

won’t need to spend this much. I’ll have plenty left for that sparkly skirt. Maybe even matching shoes?” “Rubes texted us you’d be coming.” Mya flashed Summer a friendly smile. “Ready for the time of your life?” Summer nodded. “Sure!” Yetunde popped a big pink bubble. “You’ve brought money?” “I don’t need anything. I’m just looking.” Mya laughed. “Just looking?” Ruby nudged the others. “What’s that?” she joked.

Yetunde said, “Yeah. Just wait til you see all the amazing new outfits – you’ll soon change your mind!” The three girls linked arms. Ruby glanced over her shoulder, feeling guilty when she saw Summer lagging behind. Maybe she should she link arms with Summer too? Even though Ruby and her friends walked round the usual shops, it didn’t feel the same with Summer tagging

along. Ruby tried to include her in their conversations, but Summer kept asking, “What does that mean?” and “Who’s that?” and when Ruby tried to explain, it sort of spoilt everything. Browsing racks of new leggings, Mya and Yetunde giggled over some boy in their French class. Ruby nudged Summer and whispered, “Don’t mention this to your Mum, right?” “Mention what?” Summer yawned. “Sorry, I wasn’t listening.” Ruby noticed that Summer wasn’t browsing through the clothes racks, and she wasn’t smiling much either. She kept biting her lip and checking her watch. Ruby had an idea that might help them all have a better time. “There’s a retro comic shop next door. Always has manga issues. You’re into all that, want to check it out?” Summer smiled for the first time all day. “Yes please!” Her eyes sparkled. Ruby glanced at her phone. “We won’t be too long. We’ll come and get you in fifteen minutes, okay?” “Oh.” Summer’s face fell. “You’re not coming?” “Just don’t talk to any strangers, all right.” Ruby linked arms with Yetunde and Mya. “See you in a bit!” * * *

Later, at home, Ruby blared music out of her phone and took selfies while going through her new haul. Last week, she was going to use her pocket money to try the new martial arts class, but her Saturday shopping trips were tempting, and her friends always managed to persuade her to buy something. Dad barged into her room. “Hey!” Ruby said. “You said you’d knock from now on!” Dad was scowling. “I’ve just got in from my run to find Summer in tears.” “What?” A cold feeling crept across Ruby’s neck. “Why?” “Apparently, after fifteen minutes going round the shops, you and your pals just abandoned her?” 42

“That’s not fair!” Ruby cried. “It’s her first day in a new town, Ruby.” Dad sounded so disappointed. “How could you?” Summer had been quiet on the bus home and hadn’t been interested in anything Ruby had bought. When they got in, Catriona was dozing in front of the TV and Dad was out running. Ruby had asked Summer if she wanted to watch something on Netflix, but she’d gone straight to her room. “It wasn’t like that!” Ruby protested, struggling against tears. “What was it like then?” Dad glowered. “Summer said she didn’t mind!” 43

Catriona poked her head round Ruby’s door. Her voice was calm. “Listen, there’s no need for raised voices. I’ve spoken to Summer. It seems you two just have very different ideas about a fun way to spend a Saturday. No harm done. To be honest, I wasn’t keen on Summer roaming round the shops anyway.” “I think Ruby owes Summer an apology.” Dad softened his tone, but his face still looked thunderous. Catriona said gently, “Dinner’s almost ready, so maybe we can discuss it then? As a family.” As a family! Ruby glared at the door as Dad closed it behind him. What was wrong with the family she already had? * * * The spaghetti bolognese, usually Ruby’s favourite, was too spicy, but she didn’t want Dad getting even more cross, so she just pushed it round her plate and sipped lots of water. “So,” Catriona said brightly, looking around the table. “Summer and I find it useful to talk about any elephants still lingering in the room. Don’t we?” Summer smiled awkwardly; her mouth full. Dad cleared his throat and stared hard at Ruby.

Catriona put her hand on Dad’s arm. Ruby suddenly felt hot, there was too much chilli in this sauce! “Sorry, Summer.” Ruby stared at her plate. “We shouldn’t have gone off like that. We weren’t paying attention to the time.” Summer shrugged. “It’s okay. I was a bit bored, but my mum said I had to go cos you’d invited me.” “My dad told me I had to bring you!” Silence fell across the table. Realizing their parents had forced them together, the girls both did an exaggerated eye roll and then looked at each other and giggled. Catriona sighed and said, “We should have let you girls decide for yourselves, hmm?” Ruby and Summer both nodded.

“Sorry if it wasn’t much fun,” Ruby said. Summer smiled at her. “I thought we’d maybe get to do something together. Or that you could teach me your drawing skills. I didn’t realize you were so into clothes shopping.” Ruby thought for a second. “I’m not … not really. The other two always spend way more than me. I just like seeing what’s new. I think I might like to get into designing clothes one day. At school they have a textiles club. I might join.” Catriona helped herself to more salad. “Those shops you go to are what’s called ‘fast fashion’.” Ruby frowned. “Fast what?” Summer said, “It means the clothes aren’t made to last, so they fall apart easily. Not always but sometimes.” “Oh.” Ruby thought about the fact that her Gran used to say, “Quality over quantity,” and wondered if she was right. Catriona cleared away their plates while Dad handed round bowls of chocolate ice cream. “That’s true, actually. Some clothes don’t last long,” said Ruby. “But everything’s so cheap it doesn’t really matter, does it?” “But if new clothes come out all the time, you start believing that clothes are disposable,” Catriona replied.

“Wearing them only once or twice and buying so many new is wasteful.” Ruby sighed. “Me and Dad give our old clothes to clothing banks and charity shops. Then they get recycled.” She folded her arms; she didn’t need a lecture. Summer said, through a mouthful of ice cream, “That only happens if they’re in good condition though. You can’t recycle stained or damaged clothes.” Catriona said, “I loved shopping at your age; charity shops are fab. I always found something quirky and vintage.” “No, thanks!” Ruby cried. “Charity places don’t have any choice for my age. And I’m not really into … vintage.” And they smell, she thought, but knew better than to say that aloud. “Take a leaf out of Summer’s book.” Catriona smiled. “You could use the window displays and new lines for inspiration, and then upcycle and design your own clothes.” Why was Catriona telling her what to do? “But me and my friends like going round the shops. It’s fun. And there’s not much else to do.” “Bike rides?” Catriona asked. “That’s not—” Ruby shook her head. No one had any idea about how she and her friends liked to hang out. Catriona wouldn’t give up. “Or … what about the library?”

“You can’t eat and drink in the library,” Ruby said. She didn’t add, Or be loud and giggle about school and boys and … just be ourselves. Summer said, “The bus went past a few parks.” Ruby’s anger grew and she threw Summer a look. No one understood! “You can’t go there if it’s raining or cold and it’s full of little kids—” Why didn’t they all leave her alone? Ruby shoved back her chair and ran upstairs. Slamming her bedroom door, she flung herself on her bed and screamed into her pillow.

* * * After a while, there was a knock on her door. Dad whispered. “Can I come in, love?” Ruby sat up, sniffed and wiped her eyes. She opened her bedroom door and Dad pulled her into a big hug. “We’re sorry.” He sat next to her on the bed. “Catriona isn’t trying to tell you what to do.” Yes, she was. “Why did you and Mum have to get divorced?” Ruby curled up into a ball and turned to face the wall. Her voice was quiet. “Me and Mum used to go clothes shopping, that was our thing and then after, we’d get that special cake in the café.” “That sounds nice.” Ruby sat up to see Catriona leaning against the doorway. “And I’m sure you’ll still do that together once she settles into her new flat. Can I sit down?” Ruby nodded and Catriona perched on the end of the bed. “I’m sorry. I really wasn’t trying to tell you what to do.” Ruby sniffed. “You made it sound like shopping’s bad. But making new clothes gives people jobs, especially in poor countries.” “I know. Some of these fast fashion shops do good things too, but the fact is, making clothes at all uses up a

lot of Earth’s natural resources. You’ve heard of climate change, haven’t you?” Ruby remembered her school motto of Reuse, Reduce and Recycle. “The planet is in real trouble if we don’t change our ways; that means everyone. People who make clothes sometimes get treated badly and have to work in terrible conditions.” Dad smiled at Catriona. “You’re such a little eco-warrior.” Ruby rolled her eyes. Ugh, please. 52

Catriona said, “Actually, it’s Summer who’s the expert. We went on a protest march when all the students refused to go into school. She taught me all about composting!” This was coming from Summer? Ruby had a lot to think about. “I’m tired, might just go to bed.” “Okay, sweetheart,” Dad said, kissing her on the forehead. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth.” Dad and Catriona left the room, closing the door behind them. * * * 53

The next morning, Ruby woke up early. In the kitchen, at the breakfast table, Summer was eating honey on toast. “Morning!” “Where’s my dad?” Summer pointed to the ceiling. “They’re clearing out the loft. Didn’t you hear them banging around up there?” “I wondered what all that noise was.” Ruby got herself a bowl of cereal. “Your dad said there’s loads of clothes up there. I want to have a look for my upcycling.” Ruby wrinkled up her nose. “You mentioned that before. Up what?” Summer pointed to her jeans. The patches were threaded through with bright red and purple stitching. “See these? I fixed these up instead of throwing them out. And instead of buying new stuff, you can use old clothes to make completely new outfits.” “How?” “There are loads of things you can do. I watch this brilliant YouTuber. Cut things up, sew on extras, embroider, paint… I’ve made scrunchies out of old T-shirts before. I’ll show you, it’s pretty easy. It makes everything more unique too once you’ve customized it; so you don’t have to look the same as everyone else. Adding patches or badges. A bit of sewing.” 55

Ruby sighed. “I’m rubbish at that sort of thing. Mum always said I’m not very practical.” “Thought you said you wanted to go into fashion, join the textiles club?” Ruby said, “I do, but I meant like designing and drawing clothes, not making them.” Summer looked thoughtful. “Maybe we can do projects together? I’ll teach you to sew and crochet, and you can teach me how to draw! Some techniques can be fiddly, so you’ll need to be patient.” Maybe Catriona and Summer could teach Ruby some cool things. Her mum had taught her how to dance and do a manicure, but there were other things she could learn too. And when she was packing her new clothes away last night, she’d already noticed a couple of the seams looking loose. “What got you into all this in the first place?” Ruby asked Summer. “After Dad left, we had way less money. Mum got into repainting old furniture, adding her own handles, using stencils. And her friend works for this charity that sends old clothes abroad. She said over ten thousand items get sent to the landfill every five minutes. Ten thousand! Can you imagine?”

Ruby thought about ten thousand items of clothing piled high in a huge toppling heap. “Wow. That is a lot of waste.” “Those shops you were in yesterday? Most use synthetic fibres – nylon, acrylic, polyester – and they take hundreds of years to break down. But cotton and wool are natural, so they break down more easily. And the chemicals used for printing, bleaching and dyeing – they’re so harmful for animals and the environment.” 57

“I … I didn’t know that.” Ruby slumped. “So, I shouldn’t be shopping in those places at all? That’s sad.” Summer smiled. “It’s more about picking and choosing. Find out which shops treat their workers right, maybe where they get their materials, how they dispose of waste, and then you just shop at those places.” “Sounds hard. Like, it’s easier just to grab things.” “But if everyone thought like that, then nothing would ever change, would it?” Summer said, passionately. “Look at people like Greta Thunberg. She proves that we can make a difference. Just because we’re young, we’re not powerless.” Ruby stared at Summer; she was smart. Ruby found this interesting. Some of her friends only cared about shopping and their phones, but Summer was right. Thinking about the world around her was important. Now, she had someone to help her do that. “My favourite thing right now is sashiko, it’s a really easy stitching technique from Japan. I’ll teach you!” “Girls!” Catriona’s voice hollered down the stairs. “Come up here!” “You’re going to love this!” Dad’s laugh boomed down the stairs. * * *

In the loft, Ruby and Summer coughed their way through the dust and cobwebs. “It’s like Aladdin’s cave!” Catriona pushed a bin liner towards them. “Take a peek inside this treasure trove…” “Spider!” Ruby flapped her hands as something hairy scuttled into a dark corner. “Argh, that was massive!” Summer laughed. “It’s more scared of you.” “Pfft!” Ruby pulled a face. “Parents just say that to make us not scared; something that has eight legs and moves so fast? That’s wrong on so many levels.” Catriona said, “Have to say I agree with you. I’m

a nature lover but still haven’t managed to fully accept those creepy-crawlies into my life.” Ruby smiled at Catriona. Maybe she wasn’t so bad… Mum never liked spiders either. “Here you go.” Dad pulled another bulging bin liner over to where the girls were. “Dig in. Some real blasts from the past in there!” Ruby and Summer crouched in front of bin liners labelled eighties and nineties. Ruby opened the bag marked nineties and dug around, pulling out hats, scarves and skirts. Summer asked, “Whose is all this?”

Ruby’s dad said, “These have been here for ages; they were Ruby’s gran’s. We’ll leave you to it. Yell when you’re done.” Dad and Catriona clambered down the loft ladder. Before long, Ruby and Summer were surrounded by clothes, shoes, bags and accessories, laughing, squealing and holding things up. Summer put on a baseball cap backwards and struck a skater pose. “Look at this!” Ruby cried, holding up a neon-striped rah-rah skirt. She sniffed. “But ewww, it does all smell!” “Nothing a good wash won’t sort out,” Summer said, excitedly. “Look! This checked shirt is just like someone would wear in an old horror film.” * * * An hour later, the living room looked like the world’s biggest, most colourful jumble sale, with the bin liners emptied out in the middle of the floor. “Let’s sort out what we want,” Summer said. “Then we can decide how to upcycle them.” “Sounds good,” Ruby said, smiling at her. “Maybe next Saturday, we can get some accessories for it. There’s also this new martial arts class I want to check out. Want to come?”

“I’ve always wanted to do something like that, just not on my own.” As Summer tossed Ruby a crushed velvet jacket, Ruby thought that having a new sister might not be so bad after all.

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