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Authors: Dyan Sheldon

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“Jocelyn, I really don’t think that—”

“Well, pardon me, but I think I know what I’ve seen with my own two eyes.”

“Do you?” I blame the confined space for what I said next. Stuffing a bunch of people into a small room is like sticking a bunch of rats in a cage. It’s unnatural and stressful. “Well, what I’ve seen with my own two eyes is
your boyfriend
making moves on every breathing female within a ten-mile radius.”

“I think I’ll go and see what’s happening in the garden,” said Daniel, but since Jocelyn was still wrapped around him like a snake he didn’t actually go anywhere.

Jocelyn was definitely the exception to the rule that girls look pretty when they’re angry. “I should’ve known you’d stick up for the scum of the earth. Daniel does not—”

“He made a move on you when he was going out with Sophie.”

It was a guess, but it was a pretty good one.

“It wasn’t like—”

“He made a move on me that time we went shopping.”

I think Daniel groaned, but it was hard to tell because of the shriek made by Jocelyn.

Which was quickly followed by her bursting into tears and running from the room.

“Jocelyn!” shouted Daniel, and he ran after her.

“Why can’t you ever just let anything go?” the Czar shouted at Celeste. “You never know when to stop.”

“And you never know when to start,” Celeste screamed back. “I knew it was a mistake coming here!” And she followed Jocelyn and Daniel a whole lot faster than night follows day.

“Oh, dear.” Caroline’s head had appeared at the hatch. “Is something wrong?”

The front door banged shut.

Jocelyn’s mother put down her drink. “I’m so sorry, Caroline, but I’m afraid Jocelyn’s a bit upset. We’ve had a wonderful time, but I really think we should go.”

“Oh, but you can’t leave now.” Caroline looked like she might hurl herself over the bowls of salad she’d put on the ledge of the hatch to stop the Scolfields from leaving. “You haven’t had your lunch.”

Carlos, Rosen and Evelina all looked at one another.

“Maybe we should cut, too,” said Carlos.

Evelina and Rosen were already shifting towards the door.

Mrs Jemison put down her glass. “I think we’d better be going, too. It really is getting late.”

“Please.” Caroline came charging into the dining room. “I’m certain that whatever’s happened can be easily sorted. Please stay. We’re almost ready to eat.”

But Mrs Scolfield and Mrs Jemison were already only a few steps behind the forces of the revolution.

“We must do this again before the summer’s out, Caroline.” Mr Scolfield took his car keys from his pocket. “Perhaps when it isn’t raining.”

“But—” Caroline bleated as the Jemisons and the Scolfields filed out around her. “But we’ve made all this food—”

She was still standing there when the French doors burst open and Robert and Jack stepped in with slightly wet platters of burgers.

“Good God!” Robert looked around the room. “Have we been out there that long? Has everyone gone home?”

Jack turned to the Czar. “What happened?”

The Czar made a what-do-you-think kind of face. “Celeste went off on one.”

“And Jocelyn,” I added. “Jocelyn went off on one first.”

Nana Bea shook her head. “Well, I can’t say I think much of your choice in women, Alexander. I can’t imagine why you’d be interested in someone so bossy.”

The Czar gave her a puzzled smile. “What are you on about?”

“Celeste, of course,” snapped Nana Bea. “Never mind this ‘opposites attract’ nonsense. You’d be much better off with someone more like you.”

“Celeste?” The Czar stopped smiling. “Celeste’s not my girlfriend.”

“She isn’t?” That wasn’t the impression he gave
me
.

“But we thought that was why you invited your friends today. So we could meet her.” Caroline was looking around the room like there might be a girl hidden behind a chair. “Who is it if it’s not Celeste?”

Jack smiled at everyone over the veggie burgers. “I think that would be me,” said Jack.

“Well, thank God for that,” said Robert.

The Final Episode In Which We Bid a Fond Farewell to the People and Places of Putney…

C
aroline stopped at the front door. “Now are you sure you’ve got everything?” she asked me. “Passport? Ticket?”

Even though I’d checked that I had them, her asking me again made me think maybe I hadn’t, so I checked again.

“Got ’em.”

“And all your bits and bobs?”

“I think so.” I knew I had all the really important things – the Scottie dog pin that used to belong to Nana Bea’s sister, the signed copy of one of Robert’s mysteries, the portrait of me and Raleigh and Drake that Caroline painted and a photo of me, the Czar, Jack and Tiki outside the Goth pub in Camden.

“For God’s sake, Caroline,” shouted Robert from beside the car. “If she forgot anything we’ll post it to her. But if we don’t get a move on, we’ll be posting her.”

“You know we’re all going to miss you, don’t you?” said Caroline as we finally climbed into the car. “What with one thing and another, it’s been quite a summer.”

“You can say that again,” said Robert. “In six short weeks Cherry’s managed to totally disrupt our lives. She’s got me cooking, she’s got the Red Queen doing exercises, she’s got you painting, and – as if that wasn’t enough – she’s turned our son into a homosexual. I’d say that’s not bad going for only six weeks. God knows what would’ve happened if she’d stayed any longer.”

You had to admire the way they’d all come along, really.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” I said. It had been bothering me practically since I met them, but somehow I could never bring myself to correct them. “I’ve felt really bad about it. I mean, I know I should’ve told you before—”

Robert pulled into the road. “Good God! What else have you done?”

“It’s not something I did. It’s just—”

Caroline turned around to look at me. “For heaven’s sake, Cherry, what is it?”

“That’s the thing.” I’d been debating confessing for the last two days. But it seemed wrong not to tell them. “My name isn’t Cherry. It’s Cherokee.”

“Oh, we know that.” Caroline laughed. “I just thought Cherry was so much easier.”

“And it doesn’t sound like a car,” said Robert.

…And Say Hello Again to Good Old Brooklyn

A
fter Jake and the kids went to bed Bachman, Bruce Lee and I went and sat on the front stoop. Even though it was dark, it was still so hot that it felt like the great Earth Goddess had cranked up the heat and forgotten about it and gone out. It was just like always. You’d think I’d never been away. Well, almost.

Usually you couldn’t shut Bachman up, but tonight he didn’t seem to have anything to say. He just sat there, staring over at the Scutaris’.

“So,” I said. “It sounds like you had a pretty good summer after all.”

“Yeah.” He nodded at the Scutaris’ porch. “Yeah, I did.”

“I mean, Sophie wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Yeah, she was OK. Once she stopped running away from me and chilled out. When she faked that accident, she almost reminded me of you.”

I could have kicked him. What is it with guys? You can’t turn your back on them. One minute they’re all warped out of shape because you’re going away, and the next they’re having this mega-great time without you. “Trust me,” I said. “She’s nothing like me. I’ve seen her room.”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “Sounds like you had a good time, too.”

I said that it was brilliant. I was going to add that he would have loved it (especially all the run-ins with the law) but I decided not to. I didn’t want him to think that I would have liked him to be with me. Instead I said, “So, you think you’ll ever see the Pitt-Turnbull again?”

“Maybe.” Bachman shrugged. “I was thinking maybe on the way back from seeing Europe.”

From seeing Europe? Had aliens taken over his body while I was gone? “
You
? You’re going to see Europe?”

He shrugged again. “I was thinking—you know, after graduation. It doesn’t sound as bad as I thought.”

“I suppose that’s all because of Sophie.” I was trying not to sound shrill or anything, but I wasn’t sure I was succeeding.

“Sophie?” He gave me one of his will-I-ever-understand-you? looks. “What’s Sophie got to do with it. It’s because of you. You got me interested.”

You have only yourself to blame
, is what Sky would have said. Why didn’t I ever listen to her? Our shoulders had been sort of touching, but I straightened up and moved a little away.

“Now what?” Bachman looked over at me. “All of a sudden you’re mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You’re acting like you’re mad at me.”

I bent down to pet Bruce Lee. He growled.

“You see?” said Bachman. “Even he knows.” This time he bent down to pet Bruce Lee. He wagged his tail. “What’s the matter? You don’t want to go to Europe?”

“Me?”

“Well, yeah, you. You don’t think I’d go without you, do you?”

“You wouldn’t?”

“Of course not.” He scratched Bruce Lee behind the ears. “I missed you.”

I shuffled over so our shoulders were touching again. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

I took his hand from Bruce Lee and held it in mine. “I missed you, too.”

Books by the same author

And Baby Makes Two
Away for the Weekend
Confessions of a Hollywood Star
Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen
I Conquer Britain
My Perfect Life
My Worst Best Friend
Planet Janet
Planet Janet In Orbit
Undercover Angel
Undercover Angel Strikes Again

Coming in 2012

One Or Two Things I Learned About Love

I conquer Britain

Dyan Sheldon says that her writing for young adults “comes from personal experience. I just make the characters younger. I thought I would outgrow these experiences – but they keep happening.” She is the author of many books for young people, including
Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen
(the prequel to
My Perfect Life
);
And Baby Makes Two
;
The Crazy Things Girls Do for Love
; and
My Worst Best Friend
, as well as a number of stories for younger readers. American by birth, Dyan Sheldon lives in North London

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.

First published 2006 by Walker Books Ltd
87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ

Text © 2006 Dyan Sheldon
Cover illustration © 2006 Phil Hankinson

The right of Dyan Sheldon to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data:
a catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-1-4063-3921-5 (ePub)

www.walkerbooks.co.uk

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