Inside the Worm Read Online Free PDF Page A

Half-seven?’
    â€˜Right.’
    Trot turned to Lisa. ‘Half-seven OK for you?’
    She pulled a face. ‘Dunno. I might not come. Mum says I need an early night.’
    Trot laughed. ‘It’s not a party, kid. No crates of booze. No rock band. You can be home by nine if that’s what you want.’
    â€˜I don’t know, Trot. I’ll have to see, OK?’ A part of her wanted to be there. The part that liked to be with Trot. But then there was that other part – the voice inside her head which was telling her to pull back – and that voice was growing louder.
    â€˜Sure.’ Trot shrugged and went off in search of Gary.
    Fliss looked at her friend. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about, Lisa?’
    â€˜I’m sure.’ She sighed. ‘Look, Fliss, I had a nightmare and I’m tired and I’ve got things to think about, so d’you think you could just leave me alone for a while, huh?’
    â€˜Sure.’ Fliss felt hurt. ‘I’ll leave you alone. I’ll stop talking to you altogether, if that’s what you want.’ She spun on her heel and hurried on down the drive.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    â€˜RIGHT!’ MR HEPWORTH rubbed his hands together and beamed at Year Eight. ‘It’s just a week now since Mrs Evans and I sprang on you the task of producing a play for the Festival, and we thought this might be a good time for people to report back on how things are progressing. Not to us – we’re here in an advisory capacity only – but to one another. Now – who’d like to kick us off?’
    â€˜I’d like to kick you off a cliff,’ whispered one of the boys. His friend giggled.
    Mr Hepworth glared at them. ‘Did you speak, Roger?’
    â€˜No, Sir.’
    â€˜Then it was you, Michael. What did you say?’
    â€˜I – I said I’d like to kick us off, Sir.’
    â€˜Splendid – off you go, then.’
    â€˜Well, er – I’m a villager, Sir.’
    â€˜Yes?’
    â€˜And – my mum’s nearly finished my outfit. She’s made it out of sacking, and it’s this raggedy old jacket thing with a belt and some really baggy trousers.’
    â€˜In other words, Michael, you’ll be dressed much as usual.’ Everybody laughed. ‘And you, Roger – what are you up to?’
    â€˜I’m a Viking, Sir. I can sew a bit so I’ve done my own costume. Well – my mum helped a bit. And I’ve made this really wicked helmet, Sir, with wings on it.’
    The teacher sighed. ‘There’s absolutely no evidence that the Vikings wore winged helmets, Roger. It’s a fallacy.’
    â€˜No, it’s a helmet, Sir, honest.’
    â€˜Yes, all right, Roger.’ Mr Hepworth sounded tired. ‘Sarah-Jane – you’re the producer or director or whatever, aren’t you?’
    â€˜Yes, Sir.’
    â€˜So how’s it coming along?’
    â€˜Well – we thought about speaking parts, but in the end we decided to have a narrator because nobody knows how people spoke in those days.’
    Mrs Evans nodded. ‘Good idea, Sarah-Jane. Who’s narrating?’
    Andrew Roberts raised his hand. ‘Me, Miss.’
    Mrs Evans nodded. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised, Andrew. You’ve spent most of your time in this school narrating when you should have been listening. Go on, Sarah-Jane.’
    â€˜We’ve had a couple of rehearsals, Miss. Well – not really rehearsals. Trying things out, and it seems OK so far. We don’t have people’s costumes at school, and of course the worm’s not ready, but—’
    â€˜It nearly is,’ interrupted Trot. ‘We’ve got everything. Now all we have to do is fit the skin and figure out a way to make it breathe fire.’
    â€˜Just a minute, David.’ Mr Hepworth smiled. ‘I know we want this worm to look as realistic as