Thea and the Shrug

Thea knows a lot about shrugs.

When she was nine, she had a reading test she was sure she would fail. The night before, her mum asked if she was nervous. Thea shrugged and said, “Don’t care. It’s just a stupid test.”

She cared enormously. She was so worried she couldn’t eat her tea. But saying “I don’t care” felt safer than saying “I’m scared,” because if you don’t care, then failing can’t hurt you.

That is Thea’s job in the Clue Club. She looks under the behavior for the feeling.

Her best case was a girl called Priya.

Priya had been brilliant at the piano. Everyone knew it. She played in assembly and at the school fair, and once at a concert in the town hall. Then, in Year 7, she suddenly quit. When the music teacher asked why, Priya shrugged and said, “It’s boring. I’m over it.”

“She’s so ungrateful,” someone said. “All those lessons.”

Thea recognised the shrug. It was exactly the same one she used to do.

She didn’t say anything to Priya straight away. You can’t march up to someone and say, “I know you’re secretly sad.” That never works. Instead, she just kept being friendly. They walked home the same way, so Thea walked a bit slower and talked about other things. Rabbits, mainly. Thea’s rabbit had escaped twice that month.

One afternoon, at the corner by the post box, Priya said, out of nowhere, “I messed up at the town hall.”

It came out in a rush. At the big concert, she had forgotten the middle of her piece. Her fingers just stopped. The whole hall went quiet while she sat there, and then she started again and finished, and people clapped, but she could still hear the quiet. Ever since then, whenever she sat at the piano, her stomach went tight and she imagined that silence.

So she stopped. And to make it not hurt, she told everyone it was boring.

She wasn’t ungrateful. She was embarrassed, and scared of feeling that way again.

Thea told her about the reading test, and the shrug, and how she had passed after all, though not by much. Priya laughed for the first time in ages.

Thea didn’t try to make Priya play again. That wasn’t her decision. But Priya told her music teacher what had really happened, and the teacher said that every pianist forgets their piece at least once. She suggested Priya play just for fun for a while, no concerts, no exams. Last week Thea heard her playing in the music room at lunch, with the door shut. Something fast and silly.

Here’s what Thea tells the Clue Club.

Big feelings like worry, embarrassment, sadness and shame are hard to show. So people often wear a disguise. Worry dresses up as not caring. Embarrassment dresses up as showing off. Sadness dresses up as being grumpy. Feeling left out dresses up as acting like you don’t want to join in anyway.

You can’t always see the feeling. But you can wonder about it. And you can be the kind of person someone feels safe enough to tell, on the walk home, by the post box, about rabbits and then about the real thing.

Look under the behavior for the feeling. Worry often dresses up as not caring.