My Invisible Boyfriend Read Online Free PDF Page B

hair. “I just…looked?”
    Fili pats his hand, reassuringly, and he looks a bit less terrified. It’s sort of adorable, how puppylike he is.
    Dai sighs heavily. “It’s so worthwhile, knowing the people with the inside scoop.”
    “She’s doing PAG,” says Fili, softly.
    “OH MY GOD!” squeaks Ludo, eliciting another pained grunt from Peroxide Eric as he rubs ruefully at his ear. “Really? That’s so awesome! We’ll be, like, best friends! There’ll probably be press photographers coming to see it and everything!”
    I stab a lump in my gray mash. “PAG?”
    “Performing Arts Group,” says Henry. “We put on the Wassail show? With Venables?”
    I nod. Everyone was still talking about the Wassail show when I arrived last January. It’s the Christmas play, really,but the Finch likes to think it’s progressive and embraces all cultures (as long as they can pay the fees), so they can’t call it that. There are still photos all over the music rooms of the Main Hall set up with the posh auditorium seating that sort of folds out of the walls, with Henry in a purple cloak peering out from behind a curtain, and Big Dai dressed up as the Cowardly Lion. Dai looks more like a Cowardly Koala, but there’s a Tin Man and a Scarecrow and Gillian Gerhardt in gingham, so I’m assuming the continental detour was an accident. And I know Venables, even though I’ve managed to escape his classes so far. He’s got a little love posse who follow him round adoringly, and quite possibly leave apples on his desk. Even the Mothership’s always going on about how hilarious he is in the staff room. I don’t really get it. All I see is one of those teachers who wears skinny jeans even though he’s going bald, wants everyone to call him Phil, and likes to sit cross-legged on the floor so he can “feel the vibe, man.”
    “Auditions, next Wednesday,” says Dai.
    “Can you believe there were only, like, TWENTY places on the sheet for the Lower School? And you just KNOW that Scheherezade Adams was going to put herself down for, like, ALL of them.”
    “But, Mr. Venables!” lisps Henry, tilting his head into a scarily accurate impersonation, only with a bit less cleavage. “It simply wouldn’t be fair on the people who’ve bought tickets if I didn’t play heroine and hero! It’s so much modern that way.”
    “Don’t worry, Ryder, I signed us all up.”
    Peroxide Eric sweeps Ludo’s hair aside, and raises a hand. “Not me. Not exactly my scene.”
    It’s not exactly my scene, either. I give good audience. I am well trained in the art of viewing. Participation, not so much.
    But maybe that’s the old Heidi talking. I’m Heidi-with-a-boyfriend. Heidi-with-a-boyfriend could be in a play.
    “They have non-speaking roles,” says Fili, softly.
    “Scenery, lighting, music…” Dai has his best encouraging face on.
    “Costume!” bellows Ludo, tugging on The Coat gleefully and nearly yanking my head off.
    I squish down the tiny inner mumble of disappointment that even Heidi-with-a-boyfriend is not expected to wow the school with her undiscovered acting talent. A good detective should be watching from the wings anyway. It’s like Mycroft Christie says in episode 1.11, “Noises Off”: One can’t see who’s pulling the strings if one is one of the puppets.
    Dai’s phone beeps. “Sorry, kiddies, must fly,” he says, chucking my half-eaten apple back on my tray. “The weights room is calling. Time to get sweaty.”
    Henry smirks, and murmurs something in Dai’s ear.
    “You can’t go now!” Ludo’s bobbing about on Peroxide Eric’s knee, like a five-year-old who needs a wee. “I know a thing about the thing!”
    Fili glances at me, then gives her a stern look. “Ludo?”
    “We’re not talking about the thing,” says Dai sternly. “Thething is none of our business, remember? Unless the thingee wants to share?”
    They all look at me.
    “I’m a thingee ?”
    “Oh, come ON,” moans Ludo, her knees