The Donut Diaries Read Online Free PDF Page B

Skinner’s dog, so you’d best watch him.’
    ‘Boss Skinner . . . who’s he?’
    Badwig and the others laughed.
    ‘Oh, you’ll find out soon enough. Right, put your bag up here.’
    ‘My bag? Er, OK.’
    Not really knowing what to expect, I heaved the bag up onto the counter. Then, to my amazement, Badwig unzipped it, and had a good old root through it, like we were in airport security.
    ‘You can’t do that,’ I said. ‘It’s private!’
    I heard more harsh laughter from behind me.
    ‘Got something to hide, have you, Milligan?’ said Badwig.
    ‘No, but I . . .’
    ‘And what have we here?’ he continued.
    I knew what we had here.
    ‘Is it a treat for Gustav? Oh yes, I think it is.’
    He held up a paper bag with four donuts in it.
    ‘Naughty, naughty,’ he said, and I felt myself blushing.
    ‘They were just . . .’ Just what? They were just donuts, and they weren’t allowed.
    ‘Well, you won’t be needing those in Camp Fatso,’ said Badwig.
    Then, right before my eyes, he started feeding my donuts to the horrible dog. I honestly wouldn’t have minded sacrificing my donuts to help starving children in Africa, or even to feed quite hungry donkeys abandoned by their owners in, er, wherever donkeys live. But giving them to a SAUSAGE DOG! It was sacrilege.
    ‘And you can’t take these into Camp Fatso either,’ he said, taking my laptop and phone out of my bag.
    I’d anticipated this, and I had an argument ready.
    ‘My nutritionist says I have to keep a daily diary of what I eat, so—’
    ‘Tough. There are no sockets in the dorms or anywhere else to charge electronic devices, so it won’t be of any use to you.’
    That was seriously bad news. The laptop was loaded up with games and movies.
    Badwig put a neatly folded set of orange clothing on the counter.
    ‘Get changed into these,’ he ordered.
    ‘Er, where?’
    ‘Just in the corner over there.’
    Now, I don’t know about you, but one of my pet hates is taking off my clothes in public, so I didn’t exactly leap to it.
    ‘Get on with it,’ said Badwig. ‘Don’t worry, we’re not looking, are we, Gustav?’
    Gustav didn’t reply – he was too busy eating my donuts.
    And so I did. Stupid, I know. I should have told them to get stuffed and called my mum, and got the heck out of there, but somehow I’d been institutionalized already, and found it impossible not to obey orders.
    And of course, halfway through getting changed I found myself under attack by the sausage dog of doom, who’d finished my donuts and decided on a bit of sport to work off the calories. He yapped and nipped at my ankles while I flapped at him with my trousers.
    Finally Badwig came round the counter and picked up Gustav.
    ‘That’s a good boy,’ he said.
    By that stage I’d managed to change into the shiny orange tracksuit. You can imagine how ridiculous I looked. If you can’t imagine, then I’ll tell you: I looked
extremely
ridiculous.
    ‘Right,’ said Badwig. ‘Now you’re kitted out, you can get along to your hut. It’s number four. Turn left outside. You’ve missed lunch and you’re too late for afternoon PE, so just hang around until the others come in.’
    I went to grab my bag.
    ‘Oh no,’ said Badwig. ‘This goes in the store room with all the others.’
    ‘But my things . . . my toothbrush . . .’
    Badwig pulled out my wash bag. ‘You can take this. Off you go now. The latrines and showers are in the blue building on the way.’
    So, giving my bag a last lingering look, I left the office. Gustav had another snap at me, and I hurried down the steps to get out of range, already planning an elaborate revenge.
    The hut was easy to find. I walked slowly along the gravel path, passing Huts One, Two and Three. They were brightly painted in rainbow colours, but that couldn’t hide the fact that they were pretty run-down and shabby.
    I reached Hut Four and walked up the wooden steps. Inside there were six bunk beds, a rough table