Llama Out Loud!. Annabelle Sami

to do was talk about school.

      ‘For your science project I have decided we will study moss growth and reproduction,’ Papa told Yasmin. ‘That is what I studied at university, therefore I am very knowledgeable on the subject.’

      ‘But how will moss growth help her grades? I think she should study the water cycle,’ Auntie Gigi called over from the table.

      ‘Do not question me, sister. I am the man of the house.’

      ‘Man of the house or not, you are still our younger brother!’ Auntie Bibi countered.

      ‘COMEONEVERYONEDINNERISREADY.’ Ammi’s voice cut through the hubbub. She was the one person nobody ever questioned.

      ‘Yassy, are you coming to sit down?’ Auntie Bibi asked.

      Yasmin took a deep breath and walked over to the table with a sour face. She may have to sit through this meal, but she didn’t have to smile.

      ‘One more thing before we eat.’ Papa seemed very pleased with himself as he produced a square parcel wrapped in red paper out of his briefcase. ‘A present for Yasmin.’

      Yasmin’s eyes grew wide. Maybe her parents did care about her birthday after all! Carefully peeling open the paper, she uncovered her birthday present.

      Smiths Bumper Book of Logic and Reasoning Puzzles – proven to increase brain activity!

      Yasmin stared at it in silence, trying to muster a grateful smile. Her brothers giggled.

      ‘Yasmin will have the most active brain in her whole class.’ Papa beamed. ‘Now let’s discuss your maths grades –’

      Yasmin managed to get through the dinner without throwing her rubbish present through the window. Then, finally, it was time for dessert. And Ammi had made a birthday cake!

      ‘Your Ammi spent all afternoon baking this cake, Yasmin,’ Auntie Bibi prompted.

      Yasmin’s face softened and she smiled up at Ammi. The cake was double-tiered chocolate, with beautiful buttercream flowers on the top. The family collectively gasped at its absolute chocolatey amazingness.

      Ammi carried the heavy cake to the table with such care that it might as well have been a newborn baby. She gently placed it in front of Yasmin and was just about to light the candles . . . when Yasmin opened her napkin.

      Pepper puffed out of the napkin’s folds.

      It rose into Yasmin’s nose in a big cloud of spiciness, causing a loud –

      Nobody moved.

      Sounding like a plug popping out of the plughole, Yasmin unstuck her face from the icing.

      For once, the whole family was quiet. Through icing-coated eyelashes, Yasmin could see that they were all staring at Ammi and holding their breath.

      Ammi looked at Yasmin.

      Yasmin looked at Ammi.

      Auntie Gigi looked at her own napkin and then used it to wipe Yasmin’s face.

      Then, in the loudest voice ever to come out of Ammi’s mouth – the equivalent of a jet engine and an earthquake – Yasmin’s mother boomed:

      ‘YASMIIIIIIIIIIIIIN!YOURUINEDTHECAKE!’

      Yasmin’s brothers cackled with laughter. Tall Brother slyly picked up the pepper shaker and wiggled it teasingly at Yasmin. Her parents always seemed to miss their pranks.

      ‘Because of your outburst –’ (Outburst? thought Yasmin. It was a sneeze!) ‘– Ammi’s cake is ruined! Why didn’t you blow your nose before dinner?’ Papa ranted.

      Ammi’s cake? Yasmin heard ringing in her head.

       Ammi’s cake???

       AMMI’S CAKE????

      It was her cake, it was her birthday, and none of this was her fault. But would her parents listen to her side of the story? NO! And her aunties never helped, not to mention her horrible brothers.

      A whole wave of noise came crashing down. Ammi was calling out an endless stream of orders. Papa was scooping up pieces of cake from the floor. Auntie Gigi and Auntie Bibi were trying to comfort Ammi and Yasmin’s brothers were just licking bits of icing that had fallen on the table.

      Yasmin might as well have not been there.

      So she did what she was best at, and disappeared.

      Yasmin raced up all four flights of stairs, face caked in cake, and slammed her door shut behind her.

      She grabbed her pillow and started beating it up.

      Her stupid THUMP! brothers THUD! were always THUMP! THUMP! gettingherintotrouble THWACK! THUMP! THUD!

      Her family always blamed her for everything.

      Wiping her face with a towel, she kicked off her shiny shoes and threw them at her cupboard, where they slammed against the wooden door. Jumping on to her bed, she buried her head in the pillow and tried to block out the sounds of Ammi’s continued yells. It was no use. It was like there was a yodelling competition going on downstairs. She wanted nothing more than to stand on her bed, open her mouth and let out a roar so big that it would tear the whole house apart!

      But . . . it wasn’t worth it. Nobody would stop talking for long enough to listen to her..

      Yasmin got up and walked over to her mirror. She looked into the glass with such a severe expression she nearly scared herself. Finally she closed her eyes and, with all the brain strength she could muster, she made a wish.

      I wish I could stand up for myself.

      With her eyes closed, she listened out to hear if the shouting downstairs had died down.

      What she heard instead was a thud. Coming from inside the cupboard.

      And another.

      And another!

      Yasmin stared at the cupboard door. Where was the knocking coming from?

      The cupboard fell silent. The noise from downstairs now seemed muffled compared to Yasmin’s own heavy breathing. She reached out and carefully knocked once on the wooden cupboard door.

      The air seemed to chill around her. After a moment, she heard the knocking coming from inside again. Against her better judgment, Yasmin banged harder.

      The knocking from within the cupboard was louder this time. Something was definitely in there – a mouse or a rat? – but Yasmin couldn’t ask her parents to come and investigate. She was still too angry with them.

      She fetched her tennis racket from the corner of the room. Approaching the cupboard door on tiptoe, she closed her eyes, counted to three and then swung the cupboard open . . .

      ‘Oi, love! I’m having a kip here. Your stomping woke me up!’

      In blind panic, Yasmin swung the tennis racket in the direction of the noise.

      Yasmin slowly opened her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was, frankly, unbelievable.

      ‘Didn’t your mum ever tell you it’s rude to smack people with tennis rackets?’

      Yasmin blinked hard. Was there a talking toy llama in her cupboard?

      ‘Hellooooo,