Girl, 15: Charming but Insane Read Online Free PDF Page B

cried Jess gratefully. ‘Only I’ve had this mega-row with my mum, and I don’t think I can face her again tonight.’
    ‘OK, but we must ring her if she doesn’t know where you are,’ said Fred’s mum. ‘Don’t worry, Jess! I’ll talk to her.’
    Within seconds the deal was done. Jess’s mum was reassured without Jess having to speak to her, squirm and apologise or anything. She thanked Fred’s mum effusively. She really was the best teddy bear in the world, apart from Rasputin.
    ‘You’re so kind!’ gushed Jess.
    ‘Oh no, Jess, it’s a pleasure to have you. Any time. And your mum is such a wonderful person.’
    Jess gawped. Her mum, a wonderful person? Had Fred’s mum got her wires crossed and was she, in fact, thinking of Flora’s mum instead?
    ‘She’s an inspiration to us all,’ Fred’s mum went on, making Jess a hot chocolate without even thinking to offer it first – the act of a saint. ‘She’s always so vibrant and positive, and she really cares about trying to make the world a better place. And she’s got such a fine bone structure.’
    This was an amazing speech. It was certainly news to Jess that her mother was some kind of community idol and, furthermore, physically attractive in a skeletal kind of way, but she decided just to enjoy the feeling instead of arguing. Secretly, of course, she knew that her mum was a rancid, rat-haired old bat, but PR was an important skill in today’s modern world, and it would do no good for the awful truth to get out. As the daughter of a vibrant, positive and attractive political activist, she was apparently welcome here. So why argue?
    An hour later, Jess was installed in Fred’s bed. Fred’s mother had insisted on supplying clean sheets and a fresh pair of Fred’s pyjamas to sleep in.
    ‘I’d lend you a pair of mine,’ she confided, ‘but I’m afraid I sleep in my birthday suit.’ Jess tried not to scream aloud. The thought of Fred’s parents involved in nude sleeping was too awful to endure. Jess just hoped their nocturnal nakedness wouldn’t be audible.
    Fred seemed delighted at the opportunity of spending the night on the sofa in a sleeping bag. There were especially violent movies on during the early hours, apparently: movies too gory for the under-18s, too gory for the under-40s; movies which had a ‘Blindfolds and Earplugs Only’ certificate.
    Jess found it hard to go to sleep. She couldn’t bear to think what it would have been like on the floor of the Ladies loo, if it’d been open. There was something strangely distracting about sleeping in Fred’s bed. And there was also a perverse kind of thrill involved in wearing Fred’s pyjamas, even though she had never consciously fancied him.
    Goodness knows what it would have been like if she had been offered similar accommodation by Ben Jones’s mother. If she ever had the opportunity to wear Ben Jones’s pyjamas, she would never wash again. She would never take them off. She would wear them for the rest of her life, even when she was an old lady. But no! She must not think about Ben Jones. He had witnessed her humiliation and from now on he would regard her as nothing more than a complete and utter idiot. And so would everyone else.

Chapter 7
    Jess was walking down a street, a crowded street, maybe Oxford Street, and all the faces coming towards her were staring, staring. Suddenly she realised she was only wearing a bra from the waist up. No T-shirt. No top. People were leering and jeering. Desperate, awful shame flooded over her. Suddenly, at her feet, a manhole cover opened, in the middle of the pavement, and Fred looked out. He held up his hand.
    ‘Come on – quick!’ he grinned, and Jess jumped in beside him. The cover slammed shut over their heads. Fred didn’t let go of her. They were running hand in hand across a vast beach where an ocean growled and crashed. Shining birds wheeled and plummeted overhead and rainbows danced in the spray. ‘We’re going to see the