Read Online The Manifesto on How to be Interesting by Holly Bourne - Free Book Online Page A

“Shops have been opening on Sundays for years. Nobody believes in God any more so we’ve made consumerism our new religion. Haven’t you noticed all shopping centres look like churches?”
    Hang on – had her mother just said something profound?
    Bewildered, Bree said, “And hairdresser’s are all open too?”
    â€œOf course. They take Mondays off instead of Sundays.”
    â€œTo go to church?” Bree deadpanned.
    â€œNo. So they have a chance to go shopping!” Her mother threw back her head and laughed at her own joke.
    She steered them towards the “nice” bit of town and pointed to a window display.
    â€œOooh, those shoes would look lovely on you, Bree.”
    Bree looked. Her mother was pointing to a pair of chunky platforms that stood centre stage behind the glass. Platforms so stylish they would make anyone wearing them look just plain fabulous. They were black but with a bright purple undersole.
    Bree looked through the glass nervously. “I dunno.”
    â€œAt least try them on.”
    â€œI don’t have anything to wear them to.”
    â€œWhat? Since when did us girls need a reason to buy amazing shoes? Come on, let’s go in.”
    She clasped Bree’s hand and half-dragged her into the store.
    Bree felt out of place the moment they walked through the doors. It was like having a neon sign on her head, glowing with the words I DON’T BELONG . She felt the shop assistants’ eyes on her as she and her mum browsed the rails of expensive clothes. She could sense them narrowing as they took in Bree’s baggy jeans and hoodie. Her mother put a protective arm round her shoulder and kept up a constant stream of inane babble to cover the judgement hovering in the air like a storm cloud.
    â€œThis jumper is lovely. Ooooh, this blazer would be good for school. It looks like it would fit in with your uniform policy but it’s so much less frumpy than your current one. Shoes! We must get you some shoes too. Where are those platforms?”
    Bree’s arms quickly filled up with stacks of material – each item more trendy/beautiful/stylish than the last. At Queen’s Hall you were allowed to wear “home clothes” once you got to sixth form, as long as they had a “corporate” feel. This stuff would fit the rules, but it was a world away from the garish frumpy stuff she was used to. When the pile was too big to add to, her mum led her through to the luscious changing rooms. They all had floor-to-ceiling red velvet curtains and spotlighting. To Bree’s dismay, her mum barrelled into the cubicle with her, sat on a stool, and watched as she struggled into one outfit after another.
    â€œThat one looks great on you. Oooh, try it with this scarf. I wish I had a seventeen-year-old’s body again.”
    It was so hard, changing in a way so her mum wouldn’t see the scars on her legs. Bree jiggled and danced from outfit to outfit, her heart thumping, always ensuring the tops of her thighs were covered. Luckily her mum seemed too excited to notice Bree’s odd behaviour. Or maybe Bree had been behaving so oddly already this weekend, she was immunized.
    â€œWe have to get everything,” her mum said.
    Bree had seen a few of the price tags. “But it’s very expensive…”
    â€œDon’t worry about that.”
    â€œMaybe we should just get the shoes?”
    And then to Bree’s delight, shock, and embarrassment – she couldn’t decide which one – her mum stood up and hugged her.
    â€œDarling, you do realize this is the first shopping trip we’ve been on since you started secondary school? Financially – and emotionally – we have a lot of catching up to do.” Her voice broke, like she was trying not to cry.
    Wow , Bree thought. Who knew the answer to happy families was clothes shopping?
    She wasn’t sure what to think of her mother. There was a big