ending?
Chapter Thirteen
T he rest of that week passed very slowly. Whenever I got really fed up, I tried to remember Madam Margaritaâs words.
Help people.
Help people.
It was like an echo rattling round inside my brain.
Soon I was blue in the face from holding doors open for people, and from helping little old ladies across the street.
But still nothing changed.
Friday rolled around again and I was still a pupil in Woodpark School.
I was still living in a horrible house.
Dad still didnât have a job or a car.
I was still where I didnât want to be.
Victoria called over after school on Friday.
To get upstairs, we had to climb over Dad, who was lying there repairing one of the broken steps.
âSorry, girls,â he said. âJust trying to patch the place up a bit.â
I giggled. Now that Dad wasnât working, he was totally bored, and he was driving Mum crazy. Every time she turned around he was whacking something with a hammer or attacking something with a screwdriver. Mum said she was afraid to sit down in case he tried to saw her in half.
Victoria looked around approvingly.
âThe house is looking lovely,â she said to my dad. âYouâve got a talent for home-improvement.â
I wondered how Dad would take that. Up to recently heâd had a talent for running one of the biggest businesses in town.
But Dad looked at Victoria like she was his best friend in the whole world.
âThanks,â he said, beaming so much that he accidentally thumped his finger with the hammer.
Victoria and I giggled, and ran upstairs.
âYou look really nice, Victoria,â I said as we sat on the tiny bed in my tiny bedroom.
She didnât argue, probably because she knew I was right. She was wearing a beautiful new top and new jeans, and her brown hair had the coolest touches of gold running through it.
I was wearing clothes that Iâd had forever, and my highlights were almost completely grown out.
I couldnât stop myself from leaning over and touching the soft fabric of her top.
âYou can borrow it any time you like,â she said.
I nodded, afraid that if I tried to speak, I might cry instead.
I was always the one who had the nicest things.
I was always the one who lent Victoria stuff.
Thatâs just the way it was meant to be.
I looked around my bedroom. I had done my best, by putting up posters and stuff, but nothingcould change the fact that it was a very small and very ugly room. The walls were painted a dark muddy-brown colour, and the carpet looked like it had seen better days â hundreds of years ago. I had planned to ask Dad to paint the walls, but when I said that to Mum, she hesitated, and I figured that she didnât want to spend any of our precious money on paint.
Suddenly I couldnât bear to sit there for another second.
âCome on,â I said, grabbing my jacket and heading for the door.
âWhere are we going?â asked Victoria.
I shrugged.
âI donât know yet. Just out of here.â
We walked to the park, but there was a gang of scary-looking boys there, so we didnât stay.
âWe could go to the cinema,â suggested Victoria.
âNo,â I said quickly.
I didnât have the money for the cinema. I didnât have the money to do anything fun. I thought sadly of how things used to be. In my old house,the table next to my bed was always strewn with coins and notes that Iâd carelessly emptied from my pockets. Now I never got pocket money any more, and when I needed money for school, Mum doled it out like she was giving me the last of her lifeâs savings.
Sometimes I was afraid that she truly was giving me the last of her lifeâs savings.
Victoria hesitated.
âI can lend you the money if you like.â
âNo,â I said even more quickly. I knew Victoria was being kind, and I would really have loved to go to the cinema, but there was no way I was borrowing
Chapter Thirteen
T he rest of that week passed very slowly. Whenever I got really fed up, I tried to remember Madam Margaritaâs words.
Help people.
Help people.
It was like an echo rattling round inside my brain.
Soon I was blue in the face from holding doors open for people, and from helping little old ladies across the street.
But still nothing changed.
Friday rolled around again and I was still a pupil in Woodpark School.
I was still living in a horrible house.
Dad still didnât have a job or a car.
I was still where I didnât want to be.
Victoria called over after school on Friday.
To get upstairs, we had to climb over Dad, who was lying there repairing one of the broken steps.
âSorry, girls,â he said. âJust trying to patch the place up a bit.â
I giggled. Now that Dad wasnât working, he was totally bored, and he was driving Mum crazy. Every time she turned around he was whacking something with a hammer or attacking something with a screwdriver. Mum said she was afraid to sit down in case he tried to saw her in half.
Victoria looked around approvingly.
âThe house is looking lovely,â she said to my dad. âYouâve got a talent for home-improvement.â
I wondered how Dad would take that. Up to recently heâd had a talent for running one of the biggest businesses in town.
But Dad looked at Victoria like she was his best friend in the whole world.
âThanks,â he said, beaming so much that he accidentally thumped his finger with the hammer.
Victoria and I giggled, and ran upstairs.
âYou look really nice, Victoria,â I said as we sat on the tiny bed in my tiny bedroom.
She didnât argue, probably because she knew I was right. She was wearing a beautiful new top and new jeans, and her brown hair had the coolest touches of gold running through it.
I was wearing clothes that Iâd had forever, and my highlights were almost completely grown out.
I couldnât stop myself from leaning over and touching the soft fabric of her top.
âYou can borrow it any time you like,â she said.
I nodded, afraid that if I tried to speak, I might cry instead.
I was always the one who had the nicest things.
I was always the one who lent Victoria stuff.
Thatâs just the way it was meant to be.
I looked around my bedroom. I had done my best, by putting up posters and stuff, but nothingcould change the fact that it was a very small and very ugly room. The walls were painted a dark muddy-brown colour, and the carpet looked like it had seen better days â hundreds of years ago. I had planned to ask Dad to paint the walls, but when I said that to Mum, she hesitated, and I figured that she didnât want to spend any of our precious money on paint.
Suddenly I couldnât bear to sit there for another second.
âCome on,â I said, grabbing my jacket and heading for the door.
âWhere are we going?â asked Victoria.
I shrugged.
âI donât know yet. Just out of here.â
We walked to the park, but there was a gang of scary-looking boys there, so we didnât stay.
âWe could go to the cinema,â suggested Victoria.
âNo,â I said quickly.
I didnât have the money for the cinema. I didnât have the money to do anything fun. I thought sadly of how things used to be. In my old house,the table next to my bed was always strewn with coins and notes that Iâd carelessly emptied from my pockets. Now I never got pocket money any more, and when I needed money for school, Mum doled it out like she was giving me the last of her lifeâs savings.
Sometimes I was afraid that she truly was giving me the last of her lifeâs savings.
Victoria hesitated.
âI can lend you the money if you like.â
âNo,â I said even more quickly. I knew Victoria was being kind, and I would really have loved to go to the cinema, but there was no way I was borrowing
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