Paris Crush Read Online Free PDF

like Tiggers.
    ‘So?’ Savannah’s round-eyed and fizzing. ‘Are you going?’
    Treacle’s grinning from ear to ear. ‘Dad’s already signed my form!’
    ‘What form?’ Mum’s standing in the doorway, hand on hip.
    ‘Nothing.’ I leap off the sofa, hoping to get Treacle and Savannah to my room before they detonate the Paris bomb.
    Ben’s fidgeting angrily. ‘Can everyone shut up? It’s nearly finished!’
    I glance at the TV. Large car-guy is strutting round some fancy French building jeering at his friends as they look for somewhere to park their pogo sticks.
    ‘Come on.’ I grab Treacle’s hand and head for the door.
    ‘Hold on.’ Mum blocks my path. The TV starts blaring theme music.
    ‘Ben.’ Mum’s got her doorstep voice on – the one she uses for double-glazing salesmen. The one you don’t argue with. ‘Go and get your pyjamas on.’
    He looks at her, mouth open, then closes it and slinks past her in a cloud of sulk. Dad watches from the sofa.
    ‘What’s this form?’ Mum asks. ‘Where are you meant to be going?’ Sheepishly, I fetch the Paris letter from my bag.
    ‘Haven’t you told them?’ Savannah whispers, as I hand the form to Mum.
    ‘It’s really expensive,’ I explain under my breath. I know how much she and Treacle want me to go.
    Mum glances at the form and hands it to Dad. He’s on his feet now, looking curious.
    ‘I don’t have to go,’ I insist. ‘It’s not compulsory or anything.’
    Savannah stares at me, stunned. ‘But it’s
Paris
!’
    ‘Wait right there, young lady.’ Mum’s slinging orders like a dinner lady serving beans. She hauls Dad into the kitchen.
    Treacle looks at me, then grabs me and hugs me. ‘Sorry, Gem. I didn’t think about the cost.’
    I’m swallowing back the lump in my throat. Suddenly
everything
feels unfair. I
shouldn’t
want to go so much. We can’t
afford
it.
    But it’s
Paris
!
    I want to go so badly. Is that totally selfish?
    Savannah’s looking bewildered. ‘What’s the problem?’
    ‘Three hundred and fifty pounds is the problem,’ Treacle tells her without letting go of me.
    Suddenly Mum appears, Dad in her wake. She’s holding out the form. I pull away from Treacle and take the crumpled paper. I stare at it. Then I stare some more. I can hardly believe my
eyes. ‘But Mum . . .’
    She’s
signed
it!
    I can go?
I look at her, incredulous. ‘But it’s too expensive!’
    ‘We can afford it,’ Mum says simply.
    ‘I’ve had a pay rise this year,’ Dad explains. ‘And Mum’s got some freelance work.’
    ‘But we haven’t had a proper holiday for ages,’ I protest. ‘What about Ben? And you?’
    ‘Ben likes camping best anyway,’ Dad says. ‘So do I. We’ll take the tent to the seaside in the summer holidays.’
    Mum touches my hand. ‘I’ve always regretted missing Paris,’ she says softly.
    My mum rocks. So does Dad. I have the
best
family. The moment I win the Journalist of the Year Award, I’m taking Mum to Paris. And Dad. And Ben! I can see myself onstage at the
ceremony, the lights warming my face, Mum and Dad cheering from the crowd. ‘At last I can give my family the holiday they deserve!’
    I switch from my dream world, back to reality. ‘Thanks.’
    Mum smiles. ‘You deserve a treat, Gemma. You do so much to help with Ben.’ She’s wearing her incoming-hug look, but I know she’ll hold back while Treacle and Savannah are
watching.
    Ben yells down the stairs. ‘Dad!’
    ‘I’m coming.’ Dad slides past us. ‘Excuse me, ladies.’ He thunders upstairs, hollering at Ben. ‘Have you picked out a story?’
    ‘
Zombie Death Monsters
!’ Ben roars back.
    ‘Off you go.’ Mum chivvies us out of the living room. ‘I’m sure you want to go and plan what to pack.’ She waves us upstairs, her gaze straying towards the empty
sofa.
    I lead the way and make it to the landing in 3.6 seconds. Treacle and Savannah race after me. As I swing into my room, they rush past me and collapse onto