by Jean Ure
“Apparently,” I said, “it was all down to Daisy, bullying her.”
“She does that,” said Jem. “She’s always been a bully. She tried to bully me once.”
“Really?”
“Way back in Reception. In the sandpit. She wanted my bucket and spade.”
“Did you let her have them?”
“No, I bashed her!”
“Serve her right.”
“Ought to be bashed more often,” said Skye.
We wandered on happily through the school gates. I had the feeling we were back to normal.
On Saturday afternoon Mrs Duffy came to collect Melia, and by tea time I had moved back into my own little bedroom. I was so pleased to be there! It may be the size of a broom cupboard, but it is mine. And it is cosy. Being in Angel’s room was like walking on egg shells, terrified all the time in case you broke something, or made marks on the carpet, or even just breathed a bit too heavily like poor old Melia had done.
In an odd sort of way, I found that I almost missed Melia. I suppose what it was, I had grown used to having her around. I missed her loud tuneless voice, and her big soppy beam. Rags missed her too. He kept trying to get into Angel’s room to see if she was there. Even Skye missed her.
“It’s strange, isn’t it,” she said, as we walked to school on our own on Monday morning, “not having Melia jumping about all over the place?”
“We ought to go down the road some time,” suggested Jem, “and wave to her.”
“I s’ppose we could,” said Skye.
“Matter of fact,” I said, “we’ve all been invited to tea next Saturday. Melia’s mum wants to say thank you to us for looking after Melia.”
There was a silence.
“You were the one that looked after her,” said Skye. “We didn’t do much.”
“Didn’t really do anything,” said Jem.
“It’d seem like false pretences.”
I guessed that meant they didn’t want to come. I hadn’t really thought they would. Having tea with Melia and her mum wasn’t the most exciting prospect.
“Are you going to go?” said Jem.
“Couldn’t very well get out of it,” I said. “Didn’t want to hurt Melia.” And then I felt a bit ashamed. “Actually, I’m quite looking forward to it,” I said. “I’m going to take Rags. He’ll be so excited! He’s really worried that he can’t find her. He can’t understand why she’s not there any more. But it’s all right,” I said, “there’s no need for you to come if you’d rather not. I can always tell Melia you’re doing something else.”
They looked at each other.
“Maybe we ought to come,” said Skye.
“Yes, cos we are your friends,” agreed Jem.
“Melia thinks you’re her friends too.” That’s why she had asked them. She had no idea they found her an embarrassing nuisance.
“I suppose, in a way, she’s right,” said Skye. “I know she used to get me really mad but you couldn’t help feeling a bit fond of her.”
“She could be really sweet,” said Jem. “Like stealing that mug for your mum?”
“And d’you remember in Boots, that time, when she smeared lipstick all over herself?”
“And that time in HMV. I thought I’d die!”
“And then when she called Daisy Snot Face!”
“Omigod, yes!”
I didn’t remind them that they hadn’t found any of it very amusing when it was actually happening. I hadn’t myself. But suddenly, we could all see the funny side.
“So does this mean you’re going to come?” I said.
“Got to,” said Jem. “Don’t have any choice. Can’t leave you on your own.” She linked her arm through mine. “Told you before… real friends stick together!”
“Through thick and thin,” said Skye.
We crammed three abreast through the main entrance, nearly knocking over Daisy Hooper as we did so. Things were so back to normal!
Back to normal at home, as well. I was in the kitchen with Mum, at tea time, when Angel came raging downstairs saying she had been checking up and someone had messed with her things. All because one of her china ornaments was facing the wrong way! Obviously the one poor old Melia had blown at.
“Someone’s moved it!” shrieked Angel.
As a rule when Angel shrieks at me I shriek right back at her, but today, being in this exceptionally good mood, I simply, very calmly, said, “If that is so, then I apologise,” which took the wind right out of her sails. She went all purple and started spluttering.
“Didn’t I tell you, don’t touch anything? Didn’t I—”
“Oh, Angel, give it a rest,” begged Mum. “Leave your sister alone! She’s had a lot to put up with these last few weeks. If you ask me –” she gave me a quick hug as she reached across for the kettle – “she deserves a medal! If all that’s happened is one of your ornaments got turned the wrong way round, I don’t reckon you have much to complain about.”
Wow. It isn’t very often Mum takes my side!
Also by Jean Ure
Frankie Foster: Fizzy Pop!
Ice Lolly
Love and Kisses
Fortune Cookie
Star Crazy Me!
Over the Moon
Boys Beware
Sugar and Spice
Is Anybody There?
Secret Meeting
Passion Flower
Shrinking Violet
Boys on the Brain
Pumpkin Pie
Skinny Melon and Me
Becky Bananas, This is Your Life!
Fruit and Nutcase
The Secret Life of Sally Tomato
Family Fan Club
Special three-in-one editions
The Tutti-Frutti Collection
The Flower Power Collection
The Friends Forever Collection
Copyright
1
FRANKIE FOSTER : Pick ‘n’ Mix
Text copyright © Jean Ure 2011
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
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ISBN-13 978-0-00-736267-7
EPub Edition © 2011 ISBN: 9780007443321
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