Read Online One More Little Problem by Vanessa Curtis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vanessa Curtis
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death?’ she says, turning round and directing the full force of her Fran-glare upon Caro.
Caro lights up like a crazed Christmas tree.
She gets another pen and starts drumming two at the same time, still singing anannoying little riff over and over.
All I can see is a big grassy clump of vile mud dangling off the sole of Caro’s boot.
Any moment now that clump is going to fall off and attach itself to my bed.
MAJOR DIRT ALERT.
Fran gets up from her chair and starts to advance on Caro.
‘Right,’ she says. ‘That’s it. Get out of Zelah’s bedroom. Now.’
Caro does a pretend tremble but I notice that her smile has faded just a bit.
‘I’m not joking,’ says Fran.
I half expect to see actual steam coming out of her ears so I duck.
Fran leans over the bed and Caro’s pretending to squeal in fright but is really enjoying herself in that warped way of hers and I’ve just about had enough of this now.
‘Right,’ I say. ‘Caro. Downstairs. NOW.And please take that duvet cover with you. I want it boil-washed at ninety degrees and then rinsed in fabric softener. Then I want it hung on the washing line, attached only with the blue plastic pegs from the packet NOT the dirty wooden ones. Goddit?’
Wow. I sound like one of my teachers.
Caro swings her legs off the bed, still with the insolent grin on her face. She picks up the whole duvet despite my desperate cries and drags it off into the hallway, muttering and swearing as she goes.
The smell of stale tobacco hangs in the air.
I fling open my sparkling latticed windows and let a cool breeze stream in.
Fran takes her coat off and lets out a sigh of relief.
‘How do you put up with her?’ she says. ‘And WHY do you put up with her?’
I sigh too.
‘It’s complicated,’ I say. ‘She kind of helped me at Forest Hill. And Dad thinks she’s a reborn angel.’
Fran looks very doubtful at this but manages not to say anything nasty.
I go downstairs and get us a can of coke each from the fridge and then I show her the emails and photo from Marky.
‘Wow, Zelah,’ she says. ‘He’s got a stupid name but he’s hot! If you don’t like him, can I have him?’
She’s not joking either. And the annoying thing is that when I turn up with Fran in tow this Marky will probably take one look at her beautiful long brown hair and freckled face and fall head over heels in love with her and that will be me out of the frame forever.
Then I open the latest email from Alessandro. This is what it says:
Dear Zelah,
Sorry, I hope I didn’t upset you by mentioning your weird name. I guess I kind of like it that’s all. Cheers for mentioning my dad. He’s doing OK in the nick now. He’s got this cellmate called Chris who weighs about ninety stone and has fifteen snakes tattooed on his left arm. So nobody bothers them much. Which is good ’cos my dad’s quite a small bloke. What do you do at the weekends? I’m going on hols for a week but maybe we could meet up some time after that? Your profile says that you live in West London. I live over East London but I could get a tube. I understand if you want to bring somebody with. I mean, I could be anybody. But I’m not. I’m just me. Alessandro. x.
‘He put a kiss! He put a kiss!’ squeals Fran in this demented fashion.
‘Er, it’s only one,’ I say, but inside I feel all pleased and hot.
I’ve stopped Fran and Caro from killing each other and Alessandro has put a kiss on his email.
Maybe things are finally looking up.
Chapter Thirteen
F ran’s agreed to come with me to meet Marky on Saturday morning. I reckon she just wants to flirt with him and lure him away, but seeing as how I’m not exactly swamped with friends at the moment it’s Fran or nothing.
Dad would go mental if he found out I was going off to meet a strange boy so I’ve sworn Fran to secrecy and also made her promise upon pain of violent death that she won’t tell Caro.
Dad comes home at half four when Fran hasleft with
Caro lights up like a crazed Christmas tree.
She gets another pen and starts drumming two at the same time, still singing anannoying little riff over and over.
All I can see is a big grassy clump of vile mud dangling off the sole of Caro’s boot.
Any moment now that clump is going to fall off and attach itself to my bed.
MAJOR DIRT ALERT.
Fran gets up from her chair and starts to advance on Caro.
‘Right,’ she says. ‘That’s it. Get out of Zelah’s bedroom. Now.’
Caro does a pretend tremble but I notice that her smile has faded just a bit.
‘I’m not joking,’ says Fran.
I half expect to see actual steam coming out of her ears so I duck.
Fran leans over the bed and Caro’s pretending to squeal in fright but is really enjoying herself in that warped way of hers and I’ve just about had enough of this now.
‘Right,’ I say. ‘Caro. Downstairs. NOW.And please take that duvet cover with you. I want it boil-washed at ninety degrees and then rinsed in fabric softener. Then I want it hung on the washing line, attached only with the blue plastic pegs from the packet NOT the dirty wooden ones. Goddit?’
Wow. I sound like one of my teachers.
Caro swings her legs off the bed, still with the insolent grin on her face. She picks up the whole duvet despite my desperate cries and drags it off into the hallway, muttering and swearing as she goes.
The smell of stale tobacco hangs in the air.
I fling open my sparkling latticed windows and let a cool breeze stream in.
Fran takes her coat off and lets out a sigh of relief.
‘How do you put up with her?’ she says. ‘And WHY do you put up with her?’
I sigh too.
‘It’s complicated,’ I say. ‘She kind of helped me at Forest Hill. And Dad thinks she’s a reborn angel.’
Fran looks very doubtful at this but manages not to say anything nasty.
I go downstairs and get us a can of coke each from the fridge and then I show her the emails and photo from Marky.
‘Wow, Zelah,’ she says. ‘He’s got a stupid name but he’s hot! If you don’t like him, can I have him?’
She’s not joking either. And the annoying thing is that when I turn up with Fran in tow this Marky will probably take one look at her beautiful long brown hair and freckled face and fall head over heels in love with her and that will be me out of the frame forever.
Then I open the latest email from Alessandro. This is what it says:
Dear Zelah,
Sorry, I hope I didn’t upset you by mentioning your weird name. I guess I kind of like it that’s all. Cheers for mentioning my dad. He’s doing OK in the nick now. He’s got this cellmate called Chris who weighs about ninety stone and has fifteen snakes tattooed on his left arm. So nobody bothers them much. Which is good ’cos my dad’s quite a small bloke. What do you do at the weekends? I’m going on hols for a week but maybe we could meet up some time after that? Your profile says that you live in West London. I live over East London but I could get a tube. I understand if you want to bring somebody with. I mean, I could be anybody. But I’m not. I’m just me. Alessandro. x.
‘He put a kiss! He put a kiss!’ squeals Fran in this demented fashion.
‘Er, it’s only one,’ I say, but inside I feel all pleased and hot.
I’ve stopped Fran and Caro from killing each other and Alessandro has put a kiss on his email.
Maybe things are finally looking up.
Chapter Thirteen
F ran’s agreed to come with me to meet Marky on Saturday morning. I reckon she just wants to flirt with him and lure him away, but seeing as how I’m not exactly swamped with friends at the moment it’s Fran or nothing.
Dad would go mental if he found out I was going off to meet a strange boy so I’ve sworn Fran to secrecy and also made her promise upon pain of violent death that she won’t tell Caro.
Dad comes home at half four when Fran hasleft with
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