The Totally Abnormal Life of Araminta Daniels.

My name is Araminta. But call me that and you'll regret it, I promise.

Minty is just your average twelve-and-three-quarters-year-old girl. But with two stupid parents, three even more stupid siblings and a whole load of problems to deal with, her life is anything but average. But what happens when things become twenty million times less normal?

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1. One Perfectly Normal Girl

"And that is how Henry VII succeeded in securing the English throne and bringing stability to the country," Mrs Maggot concluded. Her name isn't really Mrs Maggot - it's Mrs Mynett, but everyone calls her Mrs Maggot now. Except not to her face.

She was looking proudly at the highly-colourful mind map she had just drawn on the board, in an impossible-to-read-unless-you-are-a-person-who-is-good-at-reading-scribbles-or-are-Mrs-Maggot-herself font, so almost the whole class was clueless as to just what Henry Tudor's new laws were called, or the sum of money he had given to his uncle Jasper and why. I'd never give my uncle any amount of money, because he'd almost certainly spend on it on drink, so either Henry VII gave Jasper Tudor 50p, or his uncle had actually been sane, and helped his nephew get something even vaguely constructive done.

"Right, copy the chart down, class, and then proceed to write an essay on the reign of Henry VII, followed by..."

Maggot continues, but I'm not listening. History is a pointless subject. Who cares about what happened centuries ago, when now is more important? I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning, let alone all the births and crownings and deaths of so many tedious old monarchs who have been dead for centuries at a time. Mum's always having a go at me for failing history, but I simply explain that the past doesn't concern me in any way whatsoever, so who gives a flying fish about my History mark?

Despite all that, I have been obediently jotting down notes on the whole boring affair, creating an equally colourful (and totally unnecessary, I would like to add) diagram that spirals off in at least twenty different directions, all connected to a bubble with "Henry VII" written in it.

And despite my incredible mind-mapping skills, Maggot just came over and said: "Araminta Daniels! What do you think you are doing, scribbling all over your workbook?"

I'm Araminta. It's a stupid name, so thank my nutters of parents for that. When a couple name their children Araminta (me), Ophelia (my big sister), Nathaniel (my even bigger brother) and Perdita (my two-year-old sister), it can only mean one of two things. Either a) they are remarkably rich people with more money than brainpower, or b) hippies that must have been on drugs when they named their innocent children. Unfortunately for me, I'm sorry to say it's b). Fine, laugh now, but call me Araminta and you'll regret it, I promise.

And besides, I wasn't scribbling. Well, arguably I was, because I haven't got the neatest handwriting, but I was only copying down the stupid old diagram! While I may reply with: "NOW LOOK, I AM NOT SCRIBBLING! I AM MERELY COPYING DOWN THE MINDMAP YOU WASTED TIME WRITING ON THE BOARD! AND ANYWAY, I'M SURE I MUST HAVE WARNED YOU ABOUT CALLING ME ARAMINTA, BUT I DIDN'T, ALLOW ME TO EXPLAIN." followed by punching her in the face in most given situations, I decide to go against the notion and mutter "Sorry, Miss Maggot."

Until I realise what I've said.

"What did you just call me, Araminta?"

"Nothing, Miss Mynett," I whisper.

"DETENTION! GO TO THE HEADMASTER'S OFFICE THIS INSTANT ARAMINTA!"

I sigh, and slowly get up from my desk. Great, I've already made it into detention.

And it's only Monday morning, would you believe?

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