Mumnesia Read Online Free PDF Page A

I explain what I want.
‘It’s quite a change from your usual root-touch-up
and trim . . .’
    ‘That,’ I say with a grin, ‘is
the whole idea . . . Michelle,’ I add, reading her name
badge.
    ‘OK!’ She stamps on a pedal and my
chair actually
rises
– the future is so cool! My
skin tingles with excitement. This is my first time in a proper
salon! Ma usually cuts my hair at the kitchen table – I sit
there with a tea towel round my neck, trembling with nerves as
the kitchen scissors clack loudly and skim my skin, hardly daring
to breathe in case she lops off an ear!
    Today could not be more different. Michelle
treats my hair with exotic-smelling dye, then brings me a pile of
glossy women’s magazines –
magazines
! Not
comics! I cross my legs daintily like grown-ups do and pick up
the top one – I feel totally sophisticated!
    ‘Black coffee, no sugar, right?’
Michelle asks.
    ‘Ugh! No thanks!’ I grimace. OK, so
maybe I’m not
that
sophisticated! ‘Um . . .
have you got any Coke? Or squash? Or hot chocolate?’
    ‘Sorry,’ she says. ‘Just tea,
coffee or water.’
    ‘Water would be great, thanks.’
Seriously, what’s with all the caffeine?
    I flick through the magazine, but although it
says it’s a ‘celebrity special’, most of the
featured ‘celebrities’ don’t seem to have any
profession at all – except being famous. How is that
possible? HOW CAN YOU BE FAMOUS JUST FOR BEING FAMOUS?
    Reading the captions underneath, loads of them
are ‘reality-TV stars’ – what does that even
mean? Is there some kind of ‘
pretend
TV’ these
days? And why are nearly all of them ORANGE? Is it some kind of
disease? Oompa-loompa-itis? Or some bizarro modern fashion?
    OMGA . . . I hope Lucy hasn’t decided to go
orange!

13 LUCY
    Butterflies flutter in my stomach as I stare
at my reflection. I barely recognize myself! My new blonde bob
curves neatly under my chin, and swings smoothly as I turn my
head from side to side, admiring it from every angle. It’s
better than I ever dreamed! And the pretty heart studs glittering
on my ears are the icing on the cake – and all without any
blood or ice cubes! – though it did sting a bit.
    ‘Happy?’ Lisa smiles.
    ‘Ecstatic!’ I beam. ‘I can’t wait to
show Sha— my mum.’
    I hurry back to the waiting area, but she isn’t
there.
    Suddenly an ear-splitting scream fills the air and I freeze.
SHAZZA!?
    I race towards the sound, my heart pounding. I should never
have let her out of my sight. She’s from the eighties!
She’s a twelve-year-old in a middle-aged person’s
body! She could be in danger!
    ‘Where’s my mum?’ I cry, spotting
Shazza’s hairdresser at the counter. ‘What’s
happening to her? Why aren’t you with her?’
    ‘She’s out the back.’ She points towards a
door. ‘But –’
    I burst through the door before she can finish and find a
large, heavily tattooed man leaning menacingly over a woman with
bright red curly hair.
    ‘Shazza?’ I cry, uncertainly.
    ‘Lucy!’ Shazza wails, turning in her chair, her
eyes streaming with tears.
    ‘Get away from her!’ I shout, grabbing the
guy’s bulky arm.
    ‘Hey!’ he yells, trying to shake me off.
    ‘Shazza, run!’ I scream.
    ‘What?’ She blinks at me. ‘Why?’
    ‘Because he . . . Because you . . .’ I look from
the man to Shazza. They both stare back at me blankly.
‘Wait, what’s going on? Why did you
scream
?’
    ‘Sorry,’ Shazza says, wiping her eyes. ‘It
was just a shock, that’s all – I didn’t expect
it to hurt so much, but it’s fine now.’
    ‘What’s fine? What hurt?’
    She turns her head slightly and her nose glints in the
light.
    #OMG. It’s pierced. Shazza got her nose pierced.
Mum’s gonna
kill
me!
    ‘Isn’t it rad?’ Shazza squeals. ‘I
feel like a punk! And I love your earrings, Lucy – and your
hair! You look totally grown-up!’
    ‘Thanks!’
    ‘D’you like mine?’ She