Read Online Living With Leanne by Margaret Clark - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Margaret Clark
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too.’
Well, that’s a different story.
‘Okay,’ I write back just as the bell goes.
Boxie, Cooja and I clatter off to get changed for sport. We have a practice footy match all afternoon ready for Friday’s big game against North High, Bennett’s archenemy.
Bennett, Bennett, brave and bold,
Oughta be, oughta be dipped in gold.
North, north, ya ya ya,
Oughta be, oughta be dipped in tar!
After school Cooja, Boxie and I meet Cathy and Belinda outside the gate. We walk down to Bruisers which is the local hangout in town. I’m next to Boxie, and Cooja’s got a girl hanging off each arm walking in front of us. The pace is fast because we want to get seats. This little excursion means I’ll miss the early bus and Mum’ll probably chuck a mental but sometimes you’ve got to go with the crowd or you won’t have any friends.
It takes about ten minutes to get there. Bruisers is already filling up with kids from different schools eyeing eachother off. Cathy and Belinda slide into a booth and look hopeful. This annoys me. Why do girls always think guys have to pay?
‘It’s good manners for you guys to shout us,’ says Cathy as if she’s reading my mind.
I’m starting to think the Manners Manual was written by a woman!
The girls study the menu then decide they want Cokes and nachos. Cooja grabs some money from Boxie and me and goes up to the counter to order. Boxie spends the time putting salt in the sugar container and Belinda and Cathy are in this sort of huddle whispering. I might as well be a fly on the wall. Cooja comes back and sits in between the two girls with an arm along the back of the bench behind each.
‘Don’t like the new paintwork,’ he says.
The way the two girls gaze at him you’d think he’d just recited the Declaration of Independence. I study the decor. The walls are now black, red, blue and silver, like giant bruises. Theme decor, huh.
‘Thought you’d be on diets,’ I say sourly as the nachos arrive dripping with cheese and sour cream, a zillion kilo-joules a bite. I know this from Leanne. I know that water, tea and coffee have got zilch, tomatoes and lettuce and celery are lo-cal, and cheese, hamburgers, chips, and all things sugary are Fat City.
‘We don’t need to diet,’ says Cathy, whose got mega thunder thighs.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. The fashion’s for slightly chunky.’
That’s news to me. Maybe Leanne’s reading the wrong magazines. We munch and chew and the girls nudge and giggle about nothing. Well, nothing I can see. Cooja’s holding Cathy’s hand (which is a big relief) until I drop a nacho and bend under the table. He’s rubbing thighs with Belinda! As I’m under there gawking his free hand slides down and pats her leg. I come up confused. What’s going on?
‘I’ve gotta go,’ says Boxie, standing up. ‘See ya.’
‘Me too.’ I’m also standing.
Belinda reaches across and yanks me down so hard that the table jiggles. I’m sitting. Now what?
Cathy stands, lets go of Cooja’s hand, and moves round next to me. Belinda looks amused. I’m even more confused. Cathy looks at Cooja as she practically sits on my lap. I move away and nearly slide off the seat. I’ve got this funny feeling that I’m some sort of pawn in a weird game and I don’t like it one bit.
‘I’ve gotta roll.’
Cathy wraps her arm through mine. She’s got the suction power of a giant squid, but I break free and take off for the day.
‘See ya.’
I rush for the bus and jump on just as the driver’s shutting the door which means I get squashed against the doorway.
‘You trying to kill yourself?’ he says crossly as I give him a handful of five cent pieces which is guaranteed to make him ever madder. Too bad. I’ve just escaped the Jaws of Death in the guise of Cathy Fletcher and a bus doorway is nothing .
I slump into a seat and gaze out the window. There’s only one human on this planet who can tell me what’s going on and she’s not round to help. The
Well, that’s a different story.
‘Okay,’ I write back just as the bell goes.
Boxie, Cooja and I clatter off to get changed for sport. We have a practice footy match all afternoon ready for Friday’s big game against North High, Bennett’s archenemy.
Bennett, Bennett, brave and bold,
Oughta be, oughta be dipped in gold.
North, north, ya ya ya,
Oughta be, oughta be dipped in tar!
After school Cooja, Boxie and I meet Cathy and Belinda outside the gate. We walk down to Bruisers which is the local hangout in town. I’m next to Boxie, and Cooja’s got a girl hanging off each arm walking in front of us. The pace is fast because we want to get seats. This little excursion means I’ll miss the early bus and Mum’ll probably chuck a mental but sometimes you’ve got to go with the crowd or you won’t have any friends.
It takes about ten minutes to get there. Bruisers is already filling up with kids from different schools eyeing eachother off. Cathy and Belinda slide into a booth and look hopeful. This annoys me. Why do girls always think guys have to pay?
‘It’s good manners for you guys to shout us,’ says Cathy as if she’s reading my mind.
I’m starting to think the Manners Manual was written by a woman!
The girls study the menu then decide they want Cokes and nachos. Cooja grabs some money from Boxie and me and goes up to the counter to order. Boxie spends the time putting salt in the sugar container and Belinda and Cathy are in this sort of huddle whispering. I might as well be a fly on the wall. Cooja comes back and sits in between the two girls with an arm along the back of the bench behind each.
‘Don’t like the new paintwork,’ he says.
The way the two girls gaze at him you’d think he’d just recited the Declaration of Independence. I study the decor. The walls are now black, red, blue and silver, like giant bruises. Theme decor, huh.
‘Thought you’d be on diets,’ I say sourly as the nachos arrive dripping with cheese and sour cream, a zillion kilo-joules a bite. I know this from Leanne. I know that water, tea and coffee have got zilch, tomatoes and lettuce and celery are lo-cal, and cheese, hamburgers, chips, and all things sugary are Fat City.
‘We don’t need to diet,’ says Cathy, whose got mega thunder thighs.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. The fashion’s for slightly chunky.’
That’s news to me. Maybe Leanne’s reading the wrong magazines. We munch and chew and the girls nudge and giggle about nothing. Well, nothing I can see. Cooja’s holding Cathy’s hand (which is a big relief) until I drop a nacho and bend under the table. He’s rubbing thighs with Belinda! As I’m under there gawking his free hand slides down and pats her leg. I come up confused. What’s going on?
‘I’ve gotta go,’ says Boxie, standing up. ‘See ya.’
‘Me too.’ I’m also standing.
Belinda reaches across and yanks me down so hard that the table jiggles. I’m sitting. Now what?
Cathy stands, lets go of Cooja’s hand, and moves round next to me. Belinda looks amused. I’m even more confused. Cathy looks at Cooja as she practically sits on my lap. I move away and nearly slide off the seat. I’ve got this funny feeling that I’m some sort of pawn in a weird game and I don’t like it one bit.
‘I’ve gotta roll.’
Cathy wraps her arm through mine. She’s got the suction power of a giant squid, but I break free and take off for the day.
‘See ya.’
I rush for the bus and jump on just as the driver’s shutting the door which means I get squashed against the doorway.
‘You trying to kill yourself?’ he says crossly as I give him a handful of five cent pieces which is guaranteed to make him ever madder. Too bad. I’ve just escaped the Jaws of Death in the guise of Cathy Fletcher and a bus doorway is nothing .
I slump into a seat and gaze out the window. There’s only one human on this planet who can tell me what’s going on and she’s not round to help. The
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