locked away in the red-room.
“It’s really scary! Did you find it really scary? When you were young? Did you read it when you were young? I read it when I was ten years old. Well, Mum read it to me. I didn’t understand quite all of it, but—”
“Laurel, that was the bell,” says Mrs Caton. “You’d better go, or you’ll be late for class.” She hands me back Jane Eyre , and reluctantly I take it. I would stay here in the library all day, if I could. “Have a nice weekend,” says Mrs Caton. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
It seems a long time to wait. We’ll have loads to talkabout by then! I’m never at a loss for words with Mrs Caton, but I can’t help being a bit relieved, now, that I didn’t lend her Mum’s copy of Diary of a Nobody. I want her to read it, but suppose something happened, like she left it on a bus or dropped it in the bath? I know she would buy me another copy, but it wouldn’t be the same. This one still has Mum’s touch on it. and besides, it was given to her by Andi. I’m sure he must have been someone Mum was in love with.
At the end of English, I go to the front of the class and read my page from Jane Eyre. When I’ve finished reading, Mr Tinsley says, “All right! Who has any comments?”
There’s a silence; then Michael puts up his hand. He says he thought the bit I read was quite interesting, but it wouldn’t actually make him want to go and read the book. When Mr Tinsley says why not, Michael says he doesn’t know. “It just wouldn’t.”
A boy called Todd Masters yells, “Too girly!” and everyone laughs, except me and Mr Tinsley.
“Well, if you want to know what I think,” says Mr Tinsley, “I think it was an excellent choice and beautifully read. Well done, Laurel! I’m glad there’s still someone who’s prepared to read the classics.”
I try not to be smug, though it’s hard not to feel just a little bit pleased. Maybe I look smug, even though I don’t mean to. Or maybe it’s just that Carla’s still mad at me after this morning, being forced to sit by me. as soon as the bell’s rung for the end of class, and Mr Tinsley’s left the room, she plants herself before me and goes, “Hey, Stinky! Jane Eyre. Excellent choice . Trust you!”
I don’t understand what she means, trust me. What have I done now?
Michael suddenly steps forward. “Don’t talk to her like that,” he says. “She’s just lost her mum.”
There’s this long, uneasy silence. Then Carla recovers herself.
“Yeah, well,” she says. “Sorry.”
“That’s all right. I’m an android.”
I freeze. I can’t believe that’s my voice speaking. Why does it keep doing this? Why can’t it just be quiet? They’re all looking at me, like I’m mad.
“What’s she talking about?” says Carla. “What’s an android?”
One of the boys says it’s like a robot.
“You mean, like a Dalek or something?”
Not like a Dalek. Like a robot in human form. Androids can do everything that human beings can do. They just don’t feel anything. Like ice lollies.
As we leave school at the end of the afternoon, Carla shouts, “Bye, Dalek!”
Maybe it will become my nickname. Mum had a nickname when she was at school. It was Wally, because of her surname being Walters. And then she got married and became Winton. I don’t care if people want to call me Dalek. It doesn’t matter to me what I’m called.
I think over the weekend I will make up a new diary entry for Mr Pooter. Mrs Caton would enjoy that.
CHAPTER FIVE
“ This morning Carrie went to visit her friend Mrs James of Sutton. While she was away —”
It’s Monday, lunchtime. I’m in the library, reading my diary entry to Mrs Caton.
“ While she was away I found a big tin of yellow paint in the cellar. It seemed a good opportunity to redecorate the frontparlour, which has marks down one of the walls where Lupin scraped it while moving a piece of furniture. Lupin is Mr Pooter’s son,” I explain.
“I see.”
“It’s really scary! Did you find it really scary? When you were young? Did you read it when you were young? I read it when I was ten years old. Well, Mum read it to me. I didn’t understand quite all of it, but—”
“Laurel, that was the bell,” says Mrs Caton. “You’d better go, or you’ll be late for class.” She hands me back Jane Eyre , and reluctantly I take it. I would stay here in the library all day, if I could. “Have a nice weekend,” says Mrs Caton. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
It seems a long time to wait. We’ll have loads to talkabout by then! I’m never at a loss for words with Mrs Caton, but I can’t help being a bit relieved, now, that I didn’t lend her Mum’s copy of Diary of a Nobody. I want her to read it, but suppose something happened, like she left it on a bus or dropped it in the bath? I know she would buy me another copy, but it wouldn’t be the same. This one still has Mum’s touch on it. and besides, it was given to her by Andi. I’m sure he must have been someone Mum was in love with.
At the end of English, I go to the front of the class and read my page from Jane Eyre. When I’ve finished reading, Mr Tinsley says, “All right! Who has any comments?”
There’s a silence; then Michael puts up his hand. He says he thought the bit I read was quite interesting, but it wouldn’t actually make him want to go and read the book. When Mr Tinsley says why not, Michael says he doesn’t know. “It just wouldn’t.”
A boy called Todd Masters yells, “Too girly!” and everyone laughs, except me and Mr Tinsley.
“Well, if you want to know what I think,” says Mr Tinsley, “I think it was an excellent choice and beautifully read. Well done, Laurel! I’m glad there’s still someone who’s prepared to read the classics.”
I try not to be smug, though it’s hard not to feel just a little bit pleased. Maybe I look smug, even though I don’t mean to. Or maybe it’s just that Carla’s still mad at me after this morning, being forced to sit by me. as soon as the bell’s rung for the end of class, and Mr Tinsley’s left the room, she plants herself before me and goes, “Hey, Stinky! Jane Eyre. Excellent choice . Trust you!”
I don’t understand what she means, trust me. What have I done now?
Michael suddenly steps forward. “Don’t talk to her like that,” he says. “She’s just lost her mum.”
There’s this long, uneasy silence. Then Carla recovers herself.
“Yeah, well,” she says. “Sorry.”
“That’s all right. I’m an android.”
I freeze. I can’t believe that’s my voice speaking. Why does it keep doing this? Why can’t it just be quiet? They’re all looking at me, like I’m mad.
“What’s she talking about?” says Carla. “What’s an android?”
One of the boys says it’s like a robot.
“You mean, like a Dalek or something?”
Not like a Dalek. Like a robot in human form. Androids can do everything that human beings can do. They just don’t feel anything. Like ice lollies.
As we leave school at the end of the afternoon, Carla shouts, “Bye, Dalek!”
Maybe it will become my nickname. Mum had a nickname when she was at school. It was Wally, because of her surname being Walters. And then she got married and became Winton. I don’t care if people want to call me Dalek. It doesn’t matter to me what I’m called.
I think over the weekend I will make up a new diary entry for Mr Pooter. Mrs Caton would enjoy that.
CHAPTER FIVE
“ This morning Carrie went to visit her friend Mrs James of Sutton. While she was away —”
It’s Monday, lunchtime. I’m in the library, reading my diary entry to Mrs Caton.
“ While she was away I found a big tin of yellow paint in the cellar. It seemed a good opportunity to redecorate the frontparlour, which has marks down one of the walls where Lupin scraped it while moving a piece of furniture. Lupin is Mr Pooter’s son,” I explain.
“I see.”
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