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Authors: Nick Sharratt

BOOK: Secrets
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No-one said another word! The discussion was over. I'd won – though I knew no-one really agreed with me.

I couldn't wait for school to be finished so I could
rush
right round to the Latimer Estate. I shot out of school the moment the bell rang just in case Wanda might be waiting after all. I started to slow down the nearer I got. I was barely putting one foot in front of the other by the time I got to Treasure's block.

I was starting to worry that I'd got it all wrong. It was almost as if I'd made it all up before. I
knew
it wasn't one of my pretend games, I
knew
Treasure was real – but maybe I'd somehow remembered her nicer than she was. Maybe she'd turn out like Maria. Maybe she was secretly laughing at me. Maybe it was all an elaborate game and when I set foot on her territory the boys would barge into me on their skateboards and Treasure would bunny-hop over me on her bike.

I looked all round the play area. I saw the skateboard guys swooping up and down and several kids on bikes – but none of them was Treasure.

I stood still, feeling foolish.

‘What are you doing here, Posh Girly?' one the boys yelled.

Another skidded past me, so close I nearly popped the buttons on my school shoes. They all saw and laughed. I tried laughing too, but it just made them sneer more.

‘Run away home, Posh Girl, before we give you a good seeing to.'

‘I'd like to see you try,' I said, dodging round him, acting as if I couldn't care less though my heart was going
thump thump thump
, like a ball bouncing inside my chest.

‘Oi you, where are you off to?' he shouted, as I hurried towards Elm block.

‘I'm going to see my friend,' I said.

I didn't want to risk the lift in case they all squeezed in with me. I made for the stairs instead. I ran up. Someone was calling after me, they all started shouting, but I was scared of being ambushed. I went on running up the stairs. Up and up and up. My heart seemed to be a beachball now. I wanted to stop for a rest but I could hear footsteps coming up after me, so I went on running up the stairs. They ran too, getting nearer. Then I tripped rounding the corner of the dark stairwell and sat down hard and they fell over on top of me–

And it was
Treasure
! She'd spotted me when the boys were cheeking me, she'd yelled, they'd yelled, just trying to be helpful.

‘I couldn't call properly. I'm so out of breath. Oh help!' She really was wheezing, leaning hard against me as we sat there.

‘Shall I fetch your grandma?'

‘No, no, I'm fine. Well, I will be in a minute. It's just my asthma. Let me have a little puff.' She fumbled in her schoolbag, found her inhaler and used it. ‘There! It was just all that running. I've been charging all the way back from school. I was so worried I'd miss you.'

‘I was scared I'd missed
you
. You said you'd be on your bike watching out for me.'

‘I know, I know, but I was kept in. That teacher's such a
pig
. They're not supposed to keep you in
without
proper notice. She said she was just making me tidy up the classroom but everyone had been painting and it took ages.'

‘Why was she picking on you? Did you do badly in a test or something?'

I was being sympathetic but Treasure stood up indignantly.

‘I was always
top
at my last school. Why do people always think I'm thick? They wanted to stick me in the bottom group here but I wasn't having it.'

‘OK, OK. Don't go all ratty, please,' I begged.

‘I bet I'm cleverer than you are, even though you're so posh.'

‘I'm sure you are,' I said, though actually
I'm
nearly always top, and although I hate my school, it is ultra-academic and competitive. I'm clever but I knew it would be
stupid
to say this to Treasure.

‘So what
were
you in trouble for?' I asked.

‘I knocked over this girl's paint water kind of accidentally on purpose. It splashed her painting so she went wailing to the teacher and then I was for it.'

‘But why did you spill her paint water?'

‘Because she said stupid things about my nan and my nan's boyfriend and she got on my nerves,' said Treasure, and she spat vehemently down the stairwell.

I very much hoped
I'd
never get on Treasure's nerves.

It was as if she could read my mind. Her hand scrabbled in around my elbow so we were linked together.

‘You're different, India,' she said. She squeezed my
arm
tight. ‘I was scared you wouldn't come back.'

‘I said I would. I promised.'

‘I know. But I thought you might have just been messing around, slumming it for a day, seeing how the other half live.'

‘I'm not like that.'

‘I know you're not.'

‘Treasure . . . are we friends?'

‘Of course we are.'

‘Even though we haven't known each other ages? I used to have this friend Miranda. I've known her since we were babies and we were sort of best friends – but not like
this
. She never even bothered to keep in touch after she left our school.'

‘I'll always keep in touch with you,' said Treasure. ‘Only I'm not leaving here. I'm staying here for ever and ever and ever. You can be my best friend for ever and ever and ever too.'

Nine

Treasure

WELL, THE REALLY,
truly GREAT thing in my life is that I have a best friend, India. She came calling for me. We went indoors and played with little Britney until Loretta took her round to her friend's flat. Then India and I mucked around with crayons and stickers and glitter, making pictures with Patsy. We didn't really
want
to play with her but we couldn't leave her out.

Patsy drew a little house with three curtained windows and a door with a knocker and a letterbox. She coloured them in very carefully with a bright yellow sun shining above them. She did a strip of blue at the top of her picture for sky and a strip of green grass at the bottom, patterned with a neat row of pink daisies. She stuck a sticker bunny in the grass and a
sticker
bluebird flying past her sun. She inked
MY HOME
in silver gel pen at the top and then sat back with a big smile.

‘But our home isn't a bit like that,' I said.

‘All right,' said Patsy, unfazed. ‘It can be the bunny's home.'

‘Ah, bless her,' said Nan, throwing chips in the pan with a sizzle.

I made sick noises. Patsy's OK, but I can't stick it when she goes all twee and babyish. Bunny's home, indeed!

‘Now, now,' said Nan, putting her hand over my mouth. ‘If you're going to be sick go and do it down the toilet, Miss Treasure.' She rested her chin on my head. ‘Oh darling,' she said, seeing my picture. Her arms wrapped round me properly.

I'd drawn a dark, horrible home, down at the bottom of my paper, all scribbly black lines, with a tiny woman and some kids like little beetles and a much bigger cartoon ape man going
stamp-stamp-stamp
all over them. Then I'd drawn a ladybird girl in a red fleecy coat flying up, up, up to a new brightly coloured home at the top of a multi-storey block of flats. I'd emptied practically the whole of Patsy's glitter on the fourth flat of the fourteenth floor.

‘That's lovely, Treasure,' said Nan, giving me another hug.

Then she had a peer at India's picture. She'd drawn a very tall thin house that took up the whole of her paper.

‘You live in a big house, darling,' said Nan, trying to act like she wasn't dead impressed.

I peered at it too, wondering why she'd drawn some kind of sinister army marching along outside. There was a river too, though we're nowhere near the Thames.

‘It's not
my
home,' said India. ‘It's Anne Frank's house.'

‘Who's Anne, sweetheart?' said Nan.

India looked astonished. ‘Don't you know who
Anne Frank
is?' she said.

She didn't mean to be rude but it came out that way. Her posh little voice didn't help.

‘Sorry, dear, I don't,' said Nan, going pink. She didn't sound sorry, she sounded dead snippy.

My tummy went tight. I couldn't stand it if Nan took against India. But it was OK. India had gone pink too. She said quickly and humbly, ‘Oh, I'm ever so sorry, Mrs Mitchell.'

‘Rita,' said Nan, nice again.

‘It's just that Anne Frank is my all-time heroine. She was this Jewish girl who hid from the Nazis in Holland during the war—'

And then I got it – the long thin Dutch house and the canal and the scary soldiers. I peered more closely at India's picture and saw the top of the house was turned into a hidey hole. You could just see Anne through the window, writing in a little red notebook.

‘Her diary,' said India reverently.

‘I keep a diary,' I said, and then I blushed in case it
sounded
stupid. I hope Willie didn't hear. I'd hate it if he leafed through this and had a right laugh at me. Patsy was too busy shaking glitter over her picture to take in what I was saying. Her bunny was rapidly turning into Rhinestone Rabbit.

‘I keep a diary too!' said India, and then
she
blushed.

‘You girls!' said Nan. ‘Well, I
don't
keep a diary. I'm not confiding my secrets to anyone!'

India went on telling us about Anne Frank for
ages
, until to be honest we were all a little bit sick of her. It got more interesting when India started going on about Anne and her parents and this boy Peter who hid in the secret annexe with them. Anne falls in love with him at the end of the book and he's her boyfriend. India sighed heavily when she said this.

‘He doesn't seem
worthy
of her,' she said. ‘Still, it wasn't as if she really had any choice stuck in the annexe.'

‘Yes she did. She could choose not to have a boyfriend at all,' I said.

‘Do you have a boyfriend, Treasure?'

‘No way! I can't
stick
boys.'

Well, Willie's OK, I suppose. He does let me borrow his bike. And he lets me wear his Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirt. It's not even an old one, it's one he often wears himself, but when I said I thought it looked great he just took it off and shoved it over my head.

‘Looks great on you too, little Treas,' he said.

It looks literally great, way down to my knees, but I kind of like the baggy look. I kind of like Willie too.
But
that's OK because he's family. I'm never ever going to get a
boyfriend
.

My mum would be great if it wasn't for her
blankety blankety blank
boyfriends. Especially Terry.

I'm so scared. It's Saturday tomorrow. Mum phoned up again last night to say they really
are
coming to get me.

Nan took the phone and told Mum she was talking rubbish.

‘No I am not,' said Mum. ‘I've consulted a solicitor, see. He says there's no question, Treasure's mine and she belongs here with me.'

‘But that animal you live with whipped her with his belt,' Nan exploded.

‘No he never. And anyway, even if he did, which he
didn't
, you've no proof. Now listen, if you don't hand Treasure over when we come for her we're getting a court order.'

‘You can get the Queen herself to command me. I don't give a stuff,' said Nan, tucking me tight under her arm. ‘No-one's taking my Treasure away. Let's just ask
her
what she wants.'

‘It's what the courts say. We've got a foolproof case. I'm her
mother
,' said Mum.

‘And I'm
your
mother, God help me, and I just want to do what's best for your child,' said Nan.

‘Now look, Rita—' It was Terry suddenly speaking. I shrunk back, pressing my head into Nan's soft chest so I couldn't hear him.

I just heard the buzz of his voice. He wasn't
shouting.
He didn't sound drunk. He was using his wheedling
I'm-a-really-nice-guy
tone. But he's often like that just before he pounces. Nan wasn't fooled. Her nose wrinkled like there was a terrible smell as he whined and whinged into her ear.

‘I
am
being reasonable, Terry,' she said. ‘You're the guy who can't keep his belt buckled.'

Terry's voice buzzed louder, like he was threatening her. Nan stood firm. But she started to shiver, even though the heating's always turned full up in the flat.

‘What? What's he saying? Nan, what
is
it?'

She patted me on the shoulder to keep me quiet. Then she drew in her breath sharply.

‘It wasn't
murder
. Even the cops knew that. It was an accident. Don't you dare talk about my Pete like that,' she said, and she slammed the phone down.

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