Contents
Cover
About the Book
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Have you read these other Darcy books?
Copyright
About the Book
My name is Darcy.
I see the extraordinary in the everyday and the wonder in the world around me. Welcome to my amazing FIFTH book, in which I face the most HARDEST challenge of my life.
A whole summer where I’ve promised to make NOT ONE bit of drama about ANYTHING.
Can I be a cool-as-ice-cream drama-free queen, or will I become a furious Angrosaurus rex?
Will I survive being abandoned by my best friend Will?
And will my creaky old-new house ever feel like home?
Chapter One
HOW ARE YOU GOING TO SPEND YOUR SUMMER HOLIDAYS?
are the words written in massive letters on the board in the big hall.
BLEUGH.
This is the head of year, Mrs Hay’s, idea of a fun way to break up for the six-week summer holidays. I think she’s probably devastated that she won’t be teaching me any more next year because we will be moving up to Year Eight and getting a new head of year. I am her most main wingman, so I have to be very sensitive and patient to this activity she wants us to do. She’ll be relying on me, no doubt, to take it very seriously. Mr Yates, our actual class teacher, is finding the whole thing very amusing. Folding his arms, probably thinking to himself, I have the best class in the whole school. Which is accurate.
We basically, one at a time, have to stand up and take turns to tell everybody what ‘we are going to do’ in the summer holidays.
It’s mostly sucker-upperers, people in my form class lying their fat heads off about how they are going to ‘work on their spelling’ or ‘learn the flute’ or ‘help the elderly’.
But I am NOT buying it.
‘I’m going to Spain and I’m gonna learn how to do a Superman – one of my cousins is going to teach me!’ my best friend Will says.
‘A Superman?’ Mrs Hay lisps. Mrs Hay has old blonde hair – sprayed hair that is stuck into a frozed position like the top of an ice cream – and she’s really tall, and all her clothes and knowledge of the world is from the complete past. But she’s nice. Her voice sounds like the brushing noise of tinsel. I try and ignore the fact that Will is going to be away. It’s putting me in a right bad mood.
‘It’s a BMX trick, where you jump in the air but are only holding onto the handlebars, so you look like you’re flying through the sky like Superman.’
Mrs Hay looks horrified. ‘On a bike?’ she spits. ‘Why would you want to do that?’
‘Cos it’s fun!’ Will shrieks. He then goes on to do an impression of ‘the Superman’, and everybody laughs. Mrs Hay even cracks a smile but that’s probs because in ten minutes she can go relax and forget about us for six whole weeks.
‘Darcy, you’re up next. What are you going to do in the holidays?’
The eyes of my year group ping back at me. I really need to go out with a BANG of seeming cool and interesting.
‘Probably just the usual,’ I say. ‘You know, great and well-deserved relaxing weeks stuffed full to the brim with wild crazy circus trips and parties and sunny beaches of paradise and wandering through the woods and treasure hunts and sleeping in till lunch time and boat trips and theme parks and going to probably the opera – maybe even – and train journeys and getting to be a queen or be a wrestler or be an ape or be anything I wish! And movie jim-jam days and baking a cake and going to water parks, and then maybe I’ll swing by Hawaii for my six-week holiday and wear a grass skirt and learn to hula with a bajillion multi-coloured flowers in my hair. Just being alive; BLISS!’
‘Whoa! Cool!’ Natasha with the eye patch says, who you can always rely on to be jealous of everything.
‘WHATEVER!’ Clementine tips her head back and chews her pen. ‘You’re full of baloney, Darcy,’ she mumbles under her breath, and just at the moment when I’m about to shout at her I realize that she’s right, even if she did use the word ‘baloney’. I am talking total rot and Mrs Hay’s annoying voice brings the horrid truth to the surface.
‘Aren’t you moving house this summer, Darcy?’
‘Err. Oh yeah,’ I say gloomily.
The truth was, I didn’t want to move house. I thought I did, but now that moving day is almost here I really actually don’t want to do it at all. Why would I want to move house when we have all we need in our already now home?
‘That’s exciting then, isn’t it?’ she nudges, but I don’t feel excited.
‘Have you been to see your new house?’
‘Yes.’
‘I hear it’s bigger than where you are now, so you must be looking forward to having all that space?’
No, actually, I am thinking. No. I am not. And yes, even though the more newer house looks very nice . . . looks don’t really count in comparison to feelings, and right now I’m feeling that it’s quite a lot for one human, if you ask me, for their whole world to be upheaved and translated to some new house. All in six weeks. I lean on my hand and stare out of the window. I wonder if I will see the world all very differently once I move house?
I hope not.
‘I have a challenge for you all to do over the summer . . .’ Mrs Hay says, looking all happy, and that momentarily takes me quite away from feeling worrying.
The room audibly sighs. Groaning.
‘We HATE homework!’ Matthew moans.
‘Miss, don’t be tight and make us do bare writing on our break!’ Sania adds.
‘Yeah, miss, it’s meant to be our holiday,’ Kemal chips in. ‘We’ve worked so hard all year!’
‘Miss, how would YOU like it if you had to do work over the holidays?’ Thomas gripes.
‘This isn’t homework . . . and no one said anything about writing. This is a challenge for you – I want you to have a think about something that you want to achieve over the six-week holidays.’
‘Guuuuuuuhhhhhhh, miss, that’s dry.’ Mohammed bangs his head onto the desk.
‘I’ve already achieved everything I want.’ Clementine shrugs, all smug.
‘It’s not homework. It doesn’t have to be a big challenge but it would be a good idea to set yourself a goal, something you’ve always wanted to do. Perhaps kick a bad habit like biting your nails or start learning a new language or skill.’
‘Sounds like homework to me.’ Kemal folds his arms.
‘It could be something so small, like maybe be less grumpy in the mornings. Just try it. It might be nice if when we come back into school we share our progress?’
Everybody moans, but Mrs Hay makes it all better by bringing out a big box of chocolate biscuits for us to share. It’s only five minutes before the last bell rings, so we all tuck in. Books flapping and bags smacking and chocolate biscuits flying in the air as we raid the packaging, trying to squish as many cookies into our mouths as quick as possible. They are posh ones that come in a tray. I know it’s all about taking the ones wrapped up in gold foil. I am n
ot stupid.
And the bell rings . . .
Summer is truly in the air. The sky is a whip of blue and white froth. It’s warm, so we wear our pullovers wrapped around our waists. We see the big ones from the oldest year all crying and hugging. They have coloured handwriting all over their shirts from where they’ve signed them. It’s their last day of not being a growed up. Why are they crying? I would be jumping up and down if I didn’t have to go to school any more.
‘It’s all downhill from here,’ Will sighs.
‘No it’s not. I can’t wait until I get growed up. You get to have long legs and long hair and eat ice cream in the middle of the night and no one says one thing to you about it.’
‘Yeah, but think about all the bills and letters you have to open, all the newspapers with the tiny words you have to learn to read. It’s horrible being an adult, everybody looks at you the whole time as if you know what to do next.’
‘When you put it like that it does sound exhausting.’ I lick chocolate off my thumb, and we wave to some of our classmates as we go out. Some we will see over the holidays. Some we won’t. That’s how it goes.
‘So, are you all packed up?’ Will asks.
‘We’re not moving just yet.’ I scowl, even though it’s not Will’s fault. ‘My mum keeps telling me I have to pack up my bedroom but I just told her I’d shove all my stuff into bin liners when the day comes.’
‘You’ve got so much junk in there, it’s gonna take you ages.’
‘Oh, nag, nag, nag. Not you too!’ I frown and push his arm.
‘Sorry, but don’t you want your new room to be all . . . you know?’
‘I like my room as exactly how it is,’ I interrupt.
‘You always moan it’s small.’
‘Well, I’ve changed my mind. I like small. I like my room how it is. I like things identical to how they are. I don’t really wanna even move.’ I see a man washing his car, a ginger tom cat snaking along the wall. ‘Anyway, until we have to move, I am wanting to have as very much fun as possible!’
‘Me too, I can’t wait for Spain,’ Will says. ‘Can’t wait to be in the pool with a lovely milkshake.’
‘How long are you going for this time?’ I ask, even though I don’t want to hear the horrid answer.
‘Five weeks.’
‘FIVE weeks? FIVE whole entire weeks? Nobody needs to spend five weeks anywhere. It’s way too long. You’ll get bored.’ How DARE he go to Spain for FIVE weeks? WITHOUT ME! How dare he see that gorgeous sunshine without me! He’ll no doubt be missing me like madness.
‘I won’t be bored. I have my cousins and I’ve got friends there.’
‘And what will you do with these cousins of yours?’
‘I dunno – probably just what we do every year. Play football, ride our bikes, swim in the pool, sunbathe—’
‘All right, are you just trying to deliberately upset me now?’
‘You asked!’ he yelps. ‘You’re not seriously annoyed at me, are you?’
‘No, I don’t care actually what you do, and anyway tomorrow I was only going to invite you to Captain Adventure’s Water Park. But I guess I’ll just be going alone.’
‘Aargh, I love it there.’
‘Well, you’ll just have to love it there in your dreams, I guess.’
Bet that was a right stab to the heart.
‘Why do you always have to be so dramatic about everything all the time?’
‘Why do you always have to be so annoying the whole time?’
‘Listen to yourself – you’re the one being annoying.’
OH, SHUSH UP.
We don’t hug or anything at the corner. We just say goodbye as usual and then say See you soon.
Oh. Just. GREAT.
FIVE weeks without Will. FIVE weeks without my only true real actual friend.
Great.
‘Will!’ I shout as he’s walking away. ‘Don’t die or get eaten by a shark.’
‘I’ll try not to!’ he shouts back.
‘Miss you!’
‘No you won’t!’ He laughs and winks at me and I spin around thinking to myself, I will. I will, like mad.
At home Mum is packing the cookbooks into boxes.
‘Hello, monkey, can you pass me the brown tape please?’
‘Why are we packing? We aren’t going yet, you know.’
‘Darcy, we’re moving next week! Have you seen how much stuff we have? We are a family of hoarders!’
I throw her the brown tape and stick my finger into the jar of peanut butter.
‘Use a spoon please.’
I ignore her. The tape makes a squeaky noise as it comes away from the roll.
‘I am so looking forward to having more space,’ Mum says. ‘I can have all my books on display rather than hidden away in the cupboard. I cannot wait.’ She scribbles the words Cookbooks – Kitchen on the side of the box in a marker pen and then flumps down. ‘How was the last day of school?’
‘Fine. We got cookies.’
‘Nice. Dad’s just picking up Hector and Poppy.’
‘We got given homework.’
‘To do over the holidays?’
‘Yes!’
‘What? That’s outrageous! What kind of homework?’
‘We got given this diary and we have to write at the start something we are going to try and do over the holidays. Like a challenge. Then we have to fill the diary with our progress, I guess.’
‘That doesn’t sound like homework to me, D, that sounds like a good idea.’ Mum smiles, pushing her hair behind her ear. Lamb-Beth tumbles in from the garden to greet me – she looks all sunny and happy and extra cute. ‘What’s your challenge going to be then?’
‘Maybe, have fun?’
‘I don’t think have fun is the right challenge for you. You have the most fun out of anybody I know.’
Technically I’d argue that point and say that Hector has way more fun than me, but anyway.
‘I need to think about it.’
‘What about to try and keep your room tidy?’
‘Err . . . how about not?’ I snap.
‘How about to not answer back to your mum?’
I would answer but my mouth is clamped together with peanut butter. I open the fridge door with smudgy peanut paws and pour a glass of milk from the fridge, and as I drink it the peanut butter spreads out over my tongue and dissolves.
‘So then, are we going to go to Captain Adventure’s Water Park tomorrow?’
‘Captain what?’ Do NOT tell me she’s forgotten.
‘Captain Adventure’s Water Park?’ I remind her.
‘You know, the one with the doughnut river and the big slide and the wave machine and the hot dogs?’
‘Oh no, not that stupid place. No, of course we’re not going, Darcy, we’ve got so much to do before we move. We haven’t got time to go to a water park.’
‘BUT, Mum!’
‘But, Mum nothing. It’s chaos there, Darcy. You nearly drowned about twenty-five times the last time we went.’
‘NO, I DID NOT! I am a tremendous swimmer.’
‘I didn’t say you weren’t, but there’s so much going on there, it’s an absolute nightmare. Plus it’s far away.’
‘No it’s not.’ (I think it might be, but still.)
‘It is, plus it will be really busy. So, no. Not now we’ve got too much on.’
‘But you promised.’
‘When?’
‘AGES ago.’
‘Yes, probably before I knew we were moving house and your dad was taking on that new job.’
‘This is just typical.’
‘You can’t get everything you want, Darcy. Now pop the kettle on please, love.’
GRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!! I snatch the kettle off the disc thing it lives on and march over to the sink. I turn the tap on as hard as it will go and water a bit spits down my front but I don’t give Mum the satisfaction of looking her way so we can laugh about it. I am cross at her. What a traitor. I AM SO
ANGRY. Great, I get it. So Will gets to go to Spain and I am stuck here in boring same land. I have to just say it . . .
‘Before the others get home I just want to say this to you. Loud and clear, I have to get this off my chest and let you know that my feelings are torn apart into pieces. I worked really hard this year at school and was looking so forward to spending the day with you.fn1 I am really hurted right now, because you PROMISED. And you shouldn’t make a PROMISE that you can’t keep.’
Mum stares at me blankly and says, ‘Give it a rest, Darcy, and stop being so dramatic.’
Chapter Two
Do you think I am in a bad mood or not?
Well, let me tell you something for nothing right this minute. I am in the most worserest, baddest, horridist moods of all moods that’s ever even been dreamed up.
It’s because today we are NOT going to Captain Adventure’s Water Park, but instead, as a compromise, we are going to the BORING wee-wee baby-child paddling pool. Because it is only ‘down the road’. It’s my first day of the summer holidays and is meant to consist of uninterrupted FABULOUS mayhem without any annoying stuff, and WHAT ARE WE DOING? We are going to the stupid park with the ugly shallowest puddle of all time inside it.
I HATE the paddling pool because it’s an evil unhygienic swamp created for naked snotty babies that take turns, like it’s a competition, to wee in it as much as possible, and even though – yes, I admit it – I do wee in the paddling pool myself from time to time, there is a big difference between accidentally swallowing your own wee to swallowing some strange weird two-year-old’s wee.
And what makes it even worst?
Donald Pincher is coming.
Mum would say that Donald is a ‘friend of the family’ but I would say he is a posh parasite slug that is bratty and snobby and always gets what he wants that we HAVE to hang out with because his dad works with my dad.
HUMPH.
We can see annoying pale smug Donald Pincher already, standing by the ice-cream van with his mum, Marnie Pincher – shudder. His pasty body makes him look like an anaemic uncooked croissant stuffed into trunks. And he has bo-moobie woobie wobby boy boobs that are covered in leaky gross melted ice cream from his wilting 99. Yuck.
Darcy Burdock Page 1
