Middle School: How I Got Lost in London Read Online Free PDF Page B

the signs to “South Bank” helped.

    The point is, I got there. And after worrying it would just be me and a couple of chainsaw-wielding psychopaths, I was pleased to find myself in the company of other people . Real people, who weren’t waxworks or security guards who pulled confused faces when you said words like “iPod” or “computer.” Just your average, normal English early birds: yawning men in suits on their way to work, runners, people beginning to set out stalls…
    …and now me.
    I don’t know if anyone’s ever described me as “resourceful,” but now was as good a time as any to start. Because right then was when I had my Brilliant Idea. I made my way to the spot where I’d seen the sidewalk artists the day before, whipped out my pencil and sketch pad, and said to the first person who came along, “Caricature, sir?”

IT WAS THANKS to my night at Madame Fifi’s that I had the celebrity images fresh in my head.
    My first client wanted a caricature of himself with David Beckham, and I was able to oblige. A pretty good likeness of them both, even if I do say so myself. Off went my first satisfied customer.
    Along came another. An older lady who wanted herself with Brad Pitt.

    Then came a young guy who wanted himself with a soccer player called Wayne Rooney. Someone I hadn’t even heard of until a few hours before!
    And then, when morning had well and truly broken, and the tourists began to gather, I found myself drawing girls with Justin Bieber and One Direction, guys with Angelina Jolie, middle-aged ladies with Princess Diana. The money was beginning to roll in.
    I moved farther along the bank until I came to Waterloo Station, where I packed my things away. I checked my money. By now I had enough for the taxi ride to the Mercury Lodge. But heck, I was having a great time. Why return to the relentless torture of Miller the Killer, the indifference of Jeanne Galletta, and the scorn of everyone else? Not only was I reaping money but also the thanks and praise of my customers.
    I was, for perhaps the first time since I’d left Hills Village, having an absolutely brilliant time.
    So I took the London Underground. I went to Piccadilly and saw the sights. Then to Leicester Square, where I set up stall and drew more caricatures. Across the square there were preparations for the night’s premiere of the new Transformers movie, and I could see camera crews setting up.
    Moments later, who should come by but David Beckham.
    David Beckham!
    He spotted a caricature of himself. There was an awkward moment when I thought he might object to it. But no.
    “I larve it,” he said in his English accent. “Cor blimey, apples and pears, you’ve done a great job, Rafe. In fact, I larve it so much I’m going to buy it off ya for two thahsand parnds, and give it to my wife Victoriah so she can hang it in our bathroom. ’Cause she likes nothing better than looking at pictures of me when she’s on the loo.”
    (Which is another thing that English people say that’s different. They say “on the loo” when they mean “using the bathroom.”)

    I couldn’t take two thousand pounds for the picture. It was far too generous of him. So instead I accepted one thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine pounds. And he was so pleased to get a bargain that he invited me to the premiere of the new Transformers movie. So along I went, me and Leo on the red carpet. Where I caught the eye of Megan Fox, who’s even more gorgeous in the flesh than she is in the movies, if that’s possible. And I guess Megan thought I was cute because she insisted on getting our photograph, and…

    Oh. It’s that unbelievable, is it?

MEGAN FOX WAS the giveaway, wasn’t it? After all, she left the Transformers franchise, so what would she be doing at the premiere of the new movie? Gah!
    Okay, you got me bang to rights. I made some bits up. Yes, the bit about Megan Fox, and the whole Transformers routine, and David Beckham and his two thahsand