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

to say.
    Why?
    Because I’m not interesting!
    I’m boring. I’m a nobody. I don’t live life. I don’t embrace life. But that’s all about to change. Because I am starting a project. Here. Now. For myself. And if you want to come along for the ride then you’re very welcome.
    What’s my purpose? I’m going to become interesting. I’m going to become somebody you want to read about.
    How?
    I’m going to do all the things you’re too scared to do. And then I’m going to tell you about it. If you’re really brave, you can do it with me.
    This is The Manifesto on How to be Interesting . I’m going to pinpoint EXACTLY what it is that makes a person worth caring about and then do it.
    I’ll let you know how I get on.
    It’s not going to be easy.
    But then interesting things never are, are they?
    She finished typing with a flourish and hit Publish . And then, without even brushing her teeth, Bree fell onto her bed and fell fast asleep. Smiling.

chapter seven
    Bree woke up with her notepad stuck to her forehead.
    Her mouth tasted of dead rats. It was so dry she was quite certain her tongue could sandpaper a piece of wood. Her head was thudding like a giant gong had been erected overnight in her brain and some mischievous kids were constantly bashing it. Bash. Bash. BASH.
    Despite all this, Bree felt just wonderful. This was the best hangover ever. Because it was a hangover with purpose. She rolled over and picked her laptop off the floor. She logged on and read back what she’d garbled out last night.
    Not bad.
    It wasn’t great literature. But – even though she’d written it herself – Bree got excited reading it back. This was going to happen. She was going to do this.
    She grabbed her toothbrush and jumped in the shower of her en-suite. She liked to brush her teeth and wash at the same time, especially when suffering a red-wine hangover of doom. The water was scalding, reviving, and she stayed in until her skin was bright red and she felt light-headed.
    â€œMorning, dear,” her mum greeted her as she entered the kitchen. Mum was wearing a crop top. Actual real fifty-year-old midriff was on show. It was only for the gym, but still.
    â€œI’ve made you a fresh fruit salad.”
    Bree grunted and opened the freezer to retrieve some veggie bacon for a sandwich. Today was a carb day.
    â€œYour father had to go into work again but he wants us to all have a proper family dinner tonight. That sounds nice, doesn’t it? I was going to make a roast.”
    Bree got out the frying pan.
    â€œI’ve just come back from spinning. You feel so amazing afterwards. You should come with me sometime…”
    Bree emptied the bacon onto the hot oil. It began to splutter and gasp and brown.
    â€œWell, I’m off to Waitrose. What are you up to today? Got any nice plans?”
    She flipped the bacon over.
    â€œBree, I said have you got any nice plans?”
    Finally Bree spoke. Two whole words. “Watching TV.”
    â€œIs that all?”
    She nodded.
    â€œYou’re not going to go outside or anything? Not even meeting up with Holdo?”
    Bree tipped the slightly burned bacon onto some white bread. “I’ll go outside when I walk to get the films.”
    â€œThat’s not what I meant.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œYou could come to Waitrose with me. I’ll let you put whatever you want in the trolley.”
    Bree gave her mother her very best You gotta be kidding me? face.
    â€œSuit yourself. That white bread is full of rubbish, you know. It will give you cellulite.”
    And with that, her mother powered upstairs to change out of her belly top.
    Bree didn’t hate her mother exactly. Especially after the whole she-birthed-her-and-it-probably-hurt thing. She didn’t mean to be rude, nasty, and standoffish. But – at the risk of sounding like a massive bitch – Bree had no respect for