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Authors: Cathy Hopkins

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BOOK: Zodiac Girls: Brat Princess
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Mummy sighed. “You’ve got a lovely figure,
Leonora, and fabulous long legs, you’re—”

“WHAT DO YOU KNOW? I’M ALREADY A
SIZE TEN AND EVERYONE IN MY CLASS IS A
SIX OR A FOUR! And Lottie James is even a size
ZERO! I’M AN ELEPHANT! MY WHOLE DAY
HAS BEEN RUINED. I HATE YOU. YOU NEVER
UNDERSTAND.”

I wriggled out of the jeans. They wouldn’t do up no
matter how much I yanked at the zip. I tossed them
onto the bed then threw myself, front down, on after
them. And then I went for it.

“WaaaaaaARRRRGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
HHHHHHHHHHHHH.”

I thrashed my arms, pummelled my pillows and
threw my legs up and down. And then I felt sick. Yes,
I was going to be sick. I could feel it. I sat up. “And now
I FEEL SICK.”

Mummy looked at me with wide eyes and an
expression of terror.
Why oh why couldn’t she ever say or do
the right thing when I feel like this?
I wondered.
I’m sure I’m
adopted. I can’t be her daughter. We’re nothing like each other and
she hasn’t got a clue what to do with me
. My head started to
throb. “And now I’ve got a headache coming,” I
wailed. “And I’m fat. And spotty. And it’s all your
FAULT!”

At that moment, there was a gentle knock at the door
and Henry put his head round. I picked up a pillow and
threw it at him.

“GET OUT! GET OUT. ALL OF YOU. OUT.
OUT
. I HATE YOU ALL.”

Henry disappeared mega fast and Mummy scurried
out like a frightened rabbit.

“WahurggghhhhhhhhhHHHH,” I yelled at the
ceiling. “
No-one
understands me. Not
anyone.
I
hate
everyone. I hate them all. I hate my life. I’m so ugly.
And
fat
. I am sooooooooooooo unhappy.”

 

Chapter Two
Rules for life

Rule one: I am going to go on a diet. A serious diet.
In fact, I shan’t eat anything until I am a size zero like
Lottie. Or… Hmm... Maybe there’s some miracle fat-diluter
pill that Mummy could get me. Yes. Must be.
Or maybe liposuction? Cassidy Poole at my last school
had her bum done over the Easter hols. She couldn’t
sit down for weeks when she came back after the
break. So maybe not that option. I so don’t do pain.

Rule two: no member of staff must look at me until
I am size zero.

Rule three: Shirla mustn’t use that perfume she
wears. It smells of vanilla and cocoa, and that makes
me want to EAT chocolate.

Rule four: Shirla must come with me to Europe as
she is the only person I can stand to have around me
at the moment (as long as she doesn’t wear that
perfume).

I was ready for my trip, sitting on the patio with
Coco and waiting for the car to take me to the plane.
I was using the time to come up with some rules to
make my life more bearable. Not that anyone cared
apart from Coco, who adores me. They were all too
busy with their own lives. Daddy hadn’t even called this
morning to say goodbye. Too busy busy making
millions. Still I supposed someone had to. He works
with banks and although he’d tried a few times to
explain what he does, I still don’t get it. It’s something
to do with markets and shares and money going up and
down. Whatever. Who cares? We’re loaded. That’s
what counts. I have my own savings account with
hundreds of thousands in it.

Mummy had been busy with Shirla in the kitchen
working out the menus for Christmas Day. She was
having a bunch of boring neighbours over this year and
came out onto the patio laden down with recipe books.
I so wasn’t interested – like, Christmas in the
Caribbean? It’s not quite right. There ought to be
snow, but even in Europe it hadn’t snowed at
Christmas for years and years.

“All ready honey?”

I nodded curtly. I hadn’t forgotten how
unsympathetic she’d been about my weight gain and
come to think of it, she hadn’t asked me what
I
wanted
for Christmas dinner like she usually did. Not that it
mattered any more because I’d be having a lettuce leaf
and boiled water with a slice of lemon. That was all that
Madison Peters had for a whole term at my last school,
and she was as thin as a rake. Miserable cow she was
but then so would I be if that’s all I had for weeks on
end. I was fast going off my diet idea. Thinking about
my last school made me feel sad for a moment. It was
the fifth school I had been expelled from in over two
years and it was where I had met Tigsy. I would be
sorry to have to start another school without her – that
is if Mummy and Daddy can find me somewhere that
hasn’t blacklisted me. Whatever. I suppose I can always
do home schooling. Loads of people do, although I’ve
heard it said that home schoolers sometimes lack social
skills on account of not having mixed with other
people. I wouldn’t like that to happen to me. Last thing
I’d want is to be thought of as lacking social skills or
being difficult. I can be firm and strong-minded, but
never difficult. Not me.

“And thanks for asking what
I
want for Christmas
dinner,” I said to Mum.

“Oh, didn’t I? Oh. I meant to. Are you sure I
didn’t? Hmm. Oh…” Mummy blustered on, obviously
embarrassed by the fact that she’d forgotten to ask. I
decided to put her out of her misery.

“Well, actually you needn’t include me in
any
of the
Christmas meals as I won’t be having any.”

She looked shocked. “Whatever do you mean,
Leonora?”

“Diet. I am on one from now on. I shan’t be eating
again for at least a month.”

Shirla came out behind her and overheard me. She
was carrying my plate of chips. “Ah. So you won’t be
wanting these, then?” She dipped a big juicy one in sour
cream and popped it into her mouth. I felt my mouth
water as I watched her lick her lips. I do so like eating.
It is one of my few pleasures in life. So sad that I will
have to suffer and deny myself just so that I can look
good in my jeans. Never was there a truer sentence
than: you have to suffer to be beautiful. But… maybe
I could start tomorrow. No. That would be awkward
being in Paris and in such a swanky hotel. Shame to
miss out. Best time to start properly is when I get back.
Or in the New Year. Yeah. That’s always a brilliant time
to start with diets. Resolutions and all that.

“Er… Well. I ought to maybe just force something
down before I go,” I said. “And Mason did go to all that
trouble of making them, Shirla.” (Never let it be said
that I don’t appreciate what people do for me. I do.)

Shirla turned to go back inside. “No problem
dahlin. Me likes the chips, too. Um, uh, they’s good.”

I made myself take a deep breath. “Shirla, give me
that plate RIGHT now,” I commanded. “And you’d
better go and pack a case. I’ve decided that I want you
to come with me to Europe.”

Shirla stopped and looked questioningly at Mummy.

“But Henry is going with you. It’s all been
arranged,” said Mummy.

“I don’t care,” I said. “I want Shirla. It’s only for two
days.”

Shirla shook her head. “I’s not going to Europe. Oh
no, sugar. I’s got things to do, Mrs Hedley-Dent. My
little Mariah. She in the nativity play tomorrow night.
She being a camel. I can’t miss that, not for all the pea
in China.”

“Tea, Shirla,” I said. “It’s
tea
in China and anyway,
there wasn’t a camel in the nativity. There was a
donkey though.”

Shirla laughed. “Her costume got four legs that’s all
I know. And she sure look like a camel and I ain’t
missing her not for you, not for nobody. It’s bad
enough she didn’t get the part she wanted, which was
the Christmas angel, so I ain’t missing it. No, siree.”

Typical
, I thought.
As usual, everyone is thinking about
themselves
.

Mummy had her frightened-rabbit look on. “Yes, it’s
all been arranged,” she said.

At that moment, there was a sound around the front
of the villa and Mummy ran out to see who it was.

I turned to Shirla. “You
will
come with me,” I said.
“I can
make
you.”

Shirla laughed, raised an eyebrow, did a perfect
withering look and shook a finger at me. “Just you try,
sugar. Just you try. This is ma granddaughter’s first
nativity play. I ain’t missing that.”

“Well
that
is your problem, Shirla. Don’t make it
mine. And by the way… I lent you a hundred dollars
last week. I’m sure Mummy wouldn’t like it if she
knew about that! The staff borrowing money?”

“I ain’t forgotten,” said Shirla. She reached into the
pocket of her apron and produced ten ten-dollar notes.

“Er… I don’t think so. I want interest on it,” I said.
We did a class of economics at my last school. I knew
all about lending and borrowing money. Our teacher
had said that only a fool didn’t ask for interest.

For a moment, Shirla looked as if she would have
liked to throw the plate at me, but she held back and
put her money back in her pocket. “Okay, missy, so how
much interest you want then?”

“Five per cent.”

Shirla shook her head and tutted then she handed
the chips to me. “Uh-uh,” she said as she turned and
wobbled towards the kitchen. “Oo-ee. You sure is one
precious madam. Uh-uh you is.”

“And where’s my princess?” boomed a voice from
around the front.

Seconds later, Daddy appeared. I didn’t even bother
to look up, although I could see out of the corner of my
eye that he had his smart work suit on, so he must have
come from his office.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Come to see my girl off,” he said.

“But I’ll be back in a couple of days,” I said.
“You’ve never come home to see me off before.”

Mummy shot Daddy a “look” as if they’d been
caught out.
They’re up to something,
I thought.
Probably
getting me some secret Chrissie present. Hope it’s not another horse.
If it is, I hope they get the right colour this time
. They got me
a white one for my birthday and he had to go back
because Mercedes Bernshaw had a white one and no
way was I going to be accused of copying that loser.

“Come on, give your old dad a hug,” said Dad and
held out his arms.

I could hear that the car had arrived at
last
, so I got
up and pushed past him. “Get real. I’m too old for hugs
now,” I said as he lost his balance and toppled into a
flower bed.

An hour later, I was on the plane and on my way.
What
a relief,
I thought, inhaling the comfortingly expensive
scent of the leather upholstery as we took off into the
sky. Mummy and Daddy had been acting really
weirded out, like they’d taken lovey-dovey pills or
something. Mummy was all clingy, more so than
usual, like “Oh, my darling girl,” and stroking my hair.
Like, ew. I so don’t do emotional. (Except with Coco.
I was sad to leave her). It was particularly
embarrassing with Mummy and Daddy because there
was a tall handsome suntanned man with a mane of
dark hair at the hangar who was watching me, as if he
couldn’t take his eyes off me. Okay, so he was way too
old for boyfriend material, like, maybe old enough to
be my dad even, but he had the X factor and probably
recognized a kindred spirit in me, seeing as I also have
it. I think he was a celebrity. He looked familiar –
possibly an actor off the telly. It would have been
something to brag about when I went back to school,
that is if I’d had a school to be going back to. Or a
bunch of friends to brag to in fact. I did once upon a
time, but that was long ago. My sister Poppy and I had
tons of friends and our house used to be always full of
people, but I wasn’t going to let myself think about
then. It never did any good. I blinked back sudden tears
and steeled myself. Past is past. Gone.

As the plane burst through the clouds though, I
couldn’t help but wonder what had come over Daddy.
He was usually like me. Mr Unemotional. But even he
had given me a big hug (when he had climbed out of
the flower bed) as if he was going to miss me for once.
Maybe they were both worried that the plane might
crash or something. Whatever. I hadn’t responded to
either of their over-cringy goodbyes – like why should
I pretend I was going to miss them? They didn’t really
care about me. If they did, they would have forced
Shirla to come with me. A small request, that’s all I’d
made. I liked Shirla. She’s so totally a non-bull type of
person and I had to respect that, though I didn’t let on
about it to her.
But no point in moping over it
, I decided as
I put all thoughts of St Kitts out of my head. I looked
out the window. Despite the bad start the day had got
off to, I couldn’t help feeling excited. Tigsy was good
fun. Okay, so she wasn’t Poppy, but we were going to
have a top time in Paris.

To pass the flight time, I totted up my accounts and
worked out who owed me what.

Shirla: $100

Henry: $250

Mason: $200

Plus interest at five per cent. I worked it out on my
little calculator. It’s a dinky pink one. Designer, of
course. So cute. Cost a fortune. To get five per cent, you
multiply by point-oh-five. Cool. And if they don’t pay
me back by January, I shall put the interest up another
per cent.
Mummy and Daddy would be so pleased that my
education wasn’t totally wasted
, I thought as I tucked my
notebook away.

There were still hours to go, so I read a few mags,
watched a DVD, snoozed a little and ate a few of the
assorted canapés that had been prepared by Mason
before we left. I had to send a couple of things back –
like when will they get that I don’t eat avocados? I so
don’t do slime. I’ve told Henry again and again. As a
punishment for him accompanying me instead of
Shirla, I made him give me a manicure. When he’d
finished, I told him I hated the colour and redid my
nails myself. After that, I watched another movie, then
dozed off again and woke to feel my ears pop.
Ah. We
must be starting to land
, I thought as I took a peek outside
the window. I’d been to Paris before and one of my
favourite parts was seeing it come into view from the
plane.

BOOK: Zodiac Girls: Brat Princess
13.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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