Dandelion Clocks by Rebecca Westcott Read Free Book Online Page A

Mum gives me a hug and starts to put the lid back on the box.
    ‘Hey, let me have a look at them then,’ I protest.
    ‘Not a chance – not with me sitting here!’ she laughs. ‘Far too embarrassing. And I don’t want you quoting the daft things I used to write about over the breakfast table, OK?’
    She stands up and heads out of the room, stopping in the doorway and turning back to me.
    ‘I’m going to the shed to pot up some plants – give me a yell if Dad phones. Put these in your room and read them when it feels like the right time. There’re some pretty good rules for life in there, you know!’
    I grin at her and pick up the box. Heading down the hall to my bedroom, I can hear Mum go downstairs, humming a tune that I vaguely remember.
    I sit down on the window seat in my room. It’s my favourite place to sit and think. If I close the curtains, then nobody can see me but I can look out and see everyone walking down the street outside our house. Today they’re all rushing, heads bent against the driving rain that is pelting down and I’m glad to be inside.
    I open up the box and pull out the first book. It looks really battered. The front cover is all creased and there’s a stain that looks like it might once have been Weetabix. The title says
My Secret File: A Do-It-Yourself Dossier For Your Darkest Thoughts
and the price on the back says 95p. Crikey – it must be old then – you can’t buy anything for 95p nowadays.
    I open it up. The first page says
My Vital Statistics
and is full of fascinating (not!) facts about Mum,
like she weighed 5 stone and had size 2 feet and brown eyes. Nothing remotely interesting here then. The next page is pretty similar – she’d written that her nickname was ‘Rat’ and that she was eight years and two months old. Her handwriting is
terrible
. I can’t believe she has the nerve to have a go at me for writing sloppily. I can barely read what she’s written in some places! I flick through and then find this page:
    – MY PETS: Rover, my fish
    – MY FAVOURITE BOOK: All the Famous Fives
    – MOST USELESS THING I OWN: My Little Pony
    – HOW MUCH POCKET MONEY I GET EACH WEEK: None
    – HOW MUCH I’D LIKE TO GET: 50 pounds
    – NOW A SERIOUS ANSWER: 10p
    – IF I HAD £100 I’D BUY: A big doll
    – FAVOURITE FOOD: Angel Delight and fish fingers
    – BEST RECORDS: Culture Club, Adam and the Ants
    – I AM TALENTED AT: Licking my nose
    Hahaha! Mum had a My Little Pony! She is
always
telling me what a tomboy she was and that she spent all her time playing outside and climbing trees and helping out in the garden – and it turns
out that all she actually wanted was a ‘big doll’? What a waste of £100. If I had £100 I’d buy a new iPod or loads of iTunes vouchers or a touch-screen phone. What was she thinking?
    I’m a bit concerned about her lack of ambition as well. Settling for 10p a week pocket money? Seriously? I know stuff was cheaper back then, but that’s taking the mickey. What could she possibly have bought with 10p? I suppose she could have saved up for six weeks and treated herself to a Mars bar – she really loves them!
    I’ve never actually heard of the bands she’s written down, but that isn’t particularly surprising cos I haven’t heard of any of the music that she listens to now either. It’s always really embarrassing whenever she takes me and Alice anywhere in the car. She goes on about developing our musical education and then puts on a load of rubbish that nobody would ever want to listen to.
    I return the book to the box and slide the whole thing into my wardrobe, pushing it to the back. It’s just as I thought – funny, but irrelevant to me in every way.
    I’m just finishing my maths homework when Mum calls me down for tea. I’ve been repeating this
maths homework now for the best part of two and a half weeks and every time I hand it in Mrs Woods hands it straight back with a ‘Not good enough, Olivia’. I have literally no idea