Hazel Wood Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

that small clumps of green wheat have been disappearing too.
    Anyway, the actual real news of the day is that the secretary at the town hall said that she has a daughter my age, and why don’t I come for dinner tomorrow night. Dad said, ‘Yes’, for me, because I didn’t know what to say. I must learn to just say something and then sort out how I feel about it later.
    I do want to go, but I’m scared, in fact terrified, in case her daughter is someone from my school, someone who calls me The Farmer and expects me to scratch my head with my knife and fork. Idiot me didn’t think to ask her daughter’s name. It might be OK, the mum seems really nice and who knows, I might get a few chocolate-wafer biscuits for my trouble.
    It’s not much to ask. Just one full day with no surprises. Please.

DAY TWENTY-SIX
    The Watcher a note left on the greenhouse door, which weirded me out . I mean, how did they know that I hang out there?
    It started with –
    Dear Hazel Wood Girl,
    I hope everything is all right. Please leave a note here if for some reason you can’t make it to the Hazel Wood . 
    Then The Watcher answered the question from the last note, which made me feel bad for not replying.
    It said –
    If I could meet one person from history it would be Elvis, so I could ask him how it felt to be the most popular singer in the world. I love singing too and playing guitar. Since remembering about catching the trout, I have decided to spend today fishing. Please just let me know that you are OK.
    From, The Watcher.
    Right. Now I think it must be Christophe, but what if it isn’t? I have no clue what to do. No clue whatsoever. I think I just want it to be him because I know he’d never talk to me.
    Sammy-boy was wandering like a lost lamb again so I invited him to join me in the greenhouse and gave him some markers and drawing paper. He drew me this amazing picture of a hedgehog and we stuck it up on the wooden tray. I asked him how old his brother is, and he said,
    ‘Just turned sixteen.’
    I’d bet every chocolate biscuit in the known universe that it is Christophe sending the notes, pretending to want to be my friend. I bet he’s doing it to get in with Barbara and her lot. But why would he say things about himself if it was all just to get me in trouble with Barbara? I am now even more extra confused, and that’s saying something.
    I have been writing in this to take my mind off the fact that Adam is driving me to that lady’s house in about ten minutes to have dinner with her and her daughter. I really wish I didn’t have to go, nothing is ever worth the worry. Adam is seeing ‘Liza’ again (Miss Dobbs, who I remember had a habit of wagging her foot until it almost came off) and when I asked him about going to the Far East and leaving her here, he just said that the end of the summer is a long time away. That is so like a man! So not romantic. They think romance is something you buy, like chocolates and flowers, when your woman gets too whingy.
    ***
LATER
    OK. Good stuff! All marvellous enough for the meantime! Yes, I think I might even have my first … well not friend exactly, but at least someone to hang out with. And it’s the famous Emma-Jo of all people. Talk about strange and weird and everything. It turns out she’s the town hall secretary’s daughter, and I felt this huge mix of thrilled and freaked when I saw her perched up by their kitchen table. But she looked OK with me being there, so I could tell that she didn’t know she was supposed to hate me, so at least I have a little bit of time. Fingers crossed she doesn’t talk to Barbara on the phone too much.
    We disappeared off into the den after eating, while her mum stayed in the kitchen, so we could talk really , not just that way you do in front of parents. Emma-Jo is easily the best person I have EVER met. Before now I’ve never come across anyone who is so, I don’t know, so in charge of themselves. I know that sounds stupid, but she