Girl, 15: Charming but Insane Read Online Free PDF

would be weeping over nursery rhymes and ads for wholesome brown bread.
    She got dressed, put on her warm clothes – minus a bra, of course, because she hadn’t managed to grab a spare – and went down to the sitting room. The film was still on.
    ‘Sorry about this,’ said Fred. ‘Only five minutes more. I just want to see this bloody massacre again. There’s a great decapitation sequence in the supermarket.’
    ‘Why are boys interested in all this bloodthirsty, macho stuff?’ said Jess. ‘If you were a decent human being you would be offering me a delightful snack, instead of wallowing in horrors which you admit yourself you have already memorised.’
    Immediately Fred stabbed the remote and the TV went off. It was suddenly very quiet.
    ‘So, how was the party?’ he asked.
    Jess sighed. ‘The party sucked. I suffered total humiliation of the sort which I can’t bear to describe. Then I limped home in shoes designed by a woman-hating sadist, only to discover that my mum had evicted me from my room because my granny has to come and live with us from, like, tomorrow. So I’m homeless.’
    ‘You think you’ve got problems?’ said Fred. ‘Earlier this evening my parents enacted a suicide pact in the garden shed with a range of pesticides. They left a note saying that I am not their true son, but was foisted on them by Satan during a visit to Weymouth. Shortly after 6.30 my left leg got gangrene and fell off, and my ears started pumping out bacteria which will destroy the world. Worst of all, the pizza’s past its sell-by date.’
    Jess began to feel a bit better. She examined Fred’s kitchen and discovered he was lying about the pizza. It was perfectly, divinely fresh and scattered lightly with just the sort of pepperoni she adored.
    ‘Sorry,’ he admitted. ‘It was just an excuse. I was too lazy to put it in the oven so I just pigged out on peanut butter sandwiches.’
    ‘Useless, idle, exploitative, male chauvinist drone!’ she scolded him – she had picked up some useful insults from her mum over the years. Also, whenever she was with Fred, she started to talk like him, in elaborate old-fashioned sneers. ‘This is how you switch an oven on – though I don’t expect you to grasp it immediately.’
    Jess twirled the cooker’s dial and within twenty minutes they were tucking into a sizzling pizza, washed down with freshly-squeezed orange juice. After their meal they lay down on a sofa each in the sitting room and watched music videos.
    Eventually Fred’s parents came home. They didn’t look at all drunk. Jess was relieved. Fred’s dad came into the room first.
    ‘Hello,’ he intoned in his strange dull vicar-like voice. ‘What’s the score?’
    ‘I’m sorry!’ said Jess, scrambling up and putting on her most innocent and plaintive expression. ‘I had a bit of a row with my mum and I’ve taken refuge under your roof – I’m really sorry for intruding.’
    Fred’s dad gave her a slow, puzzled look. ‘No,’ he said, ploddingly, ‘I meant, what’s the score?’
    ‘It’s the football,’ Fred explained to Jess, and tossed the remote over to his dad. Within seconds a smear of football-noise blotted out all possibility of conversation. Jess escaped to the kitchen, where she could hear Fred’s mum clattering about.
    Jess apologised for having had the pizza, apologised for creating a mess and thanked Fred’s mum for her hospitality. Jess had been brought up by a woman who believed in politeness more passionately than anyone has ever believed in God. Help , Jess was thinking, as she apologised to Fred’s mum, I hope I put all her cosmetics and lotions and stuff back in exactly the right places .
    Fred’s mum was always friendly and nice. She had fluffy hair and looked like a teddy bear. ‘You’re very welcome, Jess – thanks for keeping Fred company,’ she beamed. ‘Do you want to stay the night? You can have Fred’s room – he can sleep on the sofa.’
    ‘Oh, could I?’