Star Crazy Me by Jean Ure Read Free Book Online Page B

nothing but carp and criticise. She always used to stick up for me, especially when Mum went on about my weight.
    â€œJust leave the girl alone! We can’t all go round looking like bits of string… wouldn’t want to, neither. Some of us like a bit of flesh on our bones.”
    It used to make Mum so mad! She accuses me of having a sharp tongue, but if I do it’s her I get it from. It’s true I am not a doormat; I don’t believe in just lying down and letting myself get trampled on by the Marigold Johnsons of this world. But I am not a bad sort of person. I really am not! I had never ever yelled at Josh or Indy before. It was all the fault of that hideous Marigold. She had turned me into a right cow.
    I tramped on, round the shopping centre, trying to find something interesting to do. I was just about to go into HMV and check whether there was anything by Urban Legend that I hadn’t got (which I knew there wouldn’t be) when my mobile started up. I thought, I am not going to answer it! But it turned out to be a text message from Josh. R U coming in 2day ? I immediately texted back: No I told U . So then he wants to know, Why not ? And I tell him, U no why not . So then he says, UR missing maths and I tell him, Good (because I hate maths) and for just a few minutes it makes me feel quite triumphant. Yay! I’m missing maths! I’m walkinground the shopping centre while everyone else is stuck in a dreary classroom listening to Mr Fenwick drone on about equations. Best of all, Josh hasn’t given up on me.
    Made bold by a sudden mad burst of enthusiasm I go waltzing into HMV and begin happily browsing, picking things up and putting them down, until I notice someone watching me and immediately become self-conscious and go rushing back out into the shopping centre and walking furiously in no particular direction.
    A couple of policemen are strolling past. They give me these really suspicious looks, like “What is that girl doing here?” and “Why isn’t she in school?” but I stare back boldly and they go on their way, leaving me alone. It’s a good thing we don’t have to wear much in the way of uniforms at Ravenspark, specially in summer. Just black trousers and a white top. Nobody’s going to know which school I go to, unless I have the misfortune to bump into someone like Mrs Gasbag – or Mum.
    The thought of bumping into Mum makes me goscuttling like a frightened hen down to the far end of the shopping centre. Mum works in the High Street so she’s not very likely to be around, especially at this time of day, but on the whole it seems best not to take any chances. She’d do her nut if she discovered I wasn’t in school again.
    I have heard that some shopping centres are really fun places, where you can easily spend an entire day without ever getting bored or running out of things to do. Ours is not like that. It is called the Bosworth Centre, which is a very dreary name for a very dreary place, especially when you don’t have any money. But I didn’t dare go home before my usual time in case of running into Gasbag. I swear that woman spends her life peering through the letter box, waiting to spy on me.
    At lunch time I bought a bag of crisps and an apple and sat and munched in a corner, keeping an eye open for Mum, or Gasbag, or anyone else that might recognise me. After lunch I went into Primark andwandered up and down the aisles, gazing at stuff, until I felt that I was being watched again, probably by a big beefy store detective who’d haul me off to be strip searched before I even had a chance to turn my pockets out and show him they were empty.
    I left Primark and scuttled next door into Superdrug. In Superdrug they had bins full of stuff just asking to be nicked. So I nicked some. For absolutely no reason at all, except for something to do. It wasn’t even like it was something I wanted. I mean, camomile wipes! What