Following Flora Read Online Free PDF Page A

their own could ever sing like that. Two older boys, whose performance of “Wonderwall” was unintentionally hilarious, look annoyed. Camera finally pans to Flora. Flora’s mouth is also open, but she does not look annoyed or even amazed. Flora’s eyes shine. She leans forward in her chair and she does not move, even when Zachary Smith stops singing, but keeps on looking at him like she cannot believe what she is seeing. He turns his head toward her. He catches her eye. Suddenly he doesn’t look lost anymore.
    He looks—amazed.
    Suddenly there is nobody in the room but him and Flora.
    Â 
    SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 17 (CONT.)
    Jas made me replay the whole concert on the train on the way home, though we skipped over most of the acts, lingering only on the kid singing “Summertime” and the old lady playing jazz tunes, until we got to Zach, and then she made me play his bit over and over again. Flora said nothing, just stared out of the train window. It was dark outside and there was nothing to see, but I don’t think she’d have noticed if a herd of elephants had cantered past playing “Wonderwall” on the trumpet.
    â€œHe’s not at all like I expected,” Jas said. Then a little bit later she said, “I’m glad Zoran’s looking after him.”
    Flora still said nothing.
    Flora, who normally can’t shut up for an
instant.
Completely silent.
    It was very unnerving.
    Â 
    MONDAY, NOVEMBER 18
    Dad found the kittens this morning or, more precisely, they found him. Somehow they got out of the shed in the night, and they were stalking up and down outside the kitchen doors when he saw them, mewing for their breakfast.
    â€œAGGGHHHH!” Dad screamed, like they were full-grown tigers instead of thirteen-week-old kittens.
    â€œMEEEOWWWWW!” the kittens yowled back.
    â€œOh my God, they’re adorable!” cried Flora, clapping her hands.
    â€œThey’re mine,” Jas announced. “I found them starving in the graveyard, and I’m keeping them forever.”
    â€œWe didn’t lose the rats to make room for disease-ridden strays,” Dad declared. “They will have to go.”
    â€œWe didn’t
lose
the rats, full stop,” Flora reminded him.
    â€œI could sell them,” offered Twig.
    â€œYou could not,” snarled Jas.
    â€œThis is a very bad time to have new pets,” said Dad. “Your mother . . .”
    â€œWhat about me?” Mum wandered down into the kitchen, and I have to say that her behavior at the moment is almost as troubling as Dad’s. Normally on a Monday morning she would be tearing around in a suit, ready for work and nagging at us about being late for school, but today she was still in her robe at eight o’clock, eating peanut butter straight from the jar with her fingers.
    Jas said, “It is either the kittens or me.” Dad replied that there were far too many children in the house anyway. Mum walked out, slamming the door.
    â€œThat,” Flora said to Dad, “is probably the nastiest thing you have ever said to any of us.”
    â€œI didn’t mean it!” cried Dad. He stared from Jas to the door Mum had just stormed out of, then back at Jas again, like he couldn’t decide what he should do next. Upstairs we heard another door slam. Dad yelled, “Just get rid of them!” then sprang into action and tore out after Mum.
    â€œI did mean it!” Jas yelled after him. “I’ll run away again and this time I won’t come back!”
    â€œNo,” Zoran said when Jas and I trudged around with the kittens this afternoon.
    â€œJust until Daddy calms down,” Jas begged.
    â€œThey peed on my duvet!” Zoran cried.
    â€œIf you don’t take them,” Jas said, “they will probably die.”
    â€œWhen are you going to e-mail me your recording?” Zoran asked. “Loads of people are asking to see it.”
    Jas