The Parent Problem Read Online Free PDF

Half-bloods and that was why no one understood us. They were all Muggles and had no idea of our special powers. We had secret Harry Potter nicknames for pretty much everyone in our school and spent our break-times plotting what spells we would cast on people we didn’t like: hence the Voldemort Twins, Izzy and Livvy.
    Aubrey doesn’t like doing this any more. She says it is bad enough living in a household full of
Lord of the Rings
nut-heads.
    In fact, just the other day she was moaning, ‘Books are so last century! Who needs stories when you have YouTube?’
    I realize now that I am on my own and, thinking back over the past few months, that Aubrey has not wanted to do the same things as me for a while. Instead she has started reading magazines and blogs and watching vlogs and doing personality quizzes – all stuff linked to celebrity and beauty and fashion and, well, stuff I’m just not that interested in, to be honest. To be fair to Aubrey, she has
tried
to get me excited about the same things as her. She says ‘it’s really important to know what’s hot and what’s not’. But I just don’t get it.
    Talking of what’s most definitely NOT, Mum has chosen this moment of precious peace and quiet to barge in on my thoughts, calling, ‘TEA-TIIIIME!’
    I will never write a whole novel at this rate. I bet Jacqueline Wilson never has problems like this to deal with.
    Mum bursts into the room. I sit up and take in the scene of horror that stands before me.
    ‘Oh my actual life,’ I mutter.
    ‘Ta-DAA!’ Mum says, spreading her arms wide and turning round so that I can have the full benefit of the disaster area that is her outfit. She is wearing the silver-sequinned top that is too tight for her and which shows far too much of her cleavage.
    Harris appears from somewhere behind the swathes of material that make up the satin skirt.
    ‘Isn’t it GORGEOUS?’ he breathes.
    ‘Do you like the top, at least?’ Mum asks me.
    I am lost for words. Luckily Harris isn’t.
    ‘I
love
that top,’ Harris gushes. ‘Can I borrow it for dressing up?’
    Give me strength.
    ‘I’m glad
you
like it, little bean,’ says Mum. ‘This is not going into the dressing-up box yet, though.’ She holds out the purple skirt, which seems even swishier than when she first showed it to us, and does another tottery twirl on her shiny high-heeled shoes.
    Harris gasps and rushes to take Mum by the hand. She holds his arm up high and lets him pirouette under her, then they both crease up into a fit of red-faced giggles.
    ‘What is
wrong
with you two?’ I say.
    Harris glares and sticks his tongue out. ‘You’re just jealous because Mum looks beautiful,’ he says. ‘Unlike
you
.’
    ‘Oh yeah, I am soooo jealous of Mum looking like she’s about to go to a fancy-dress party,’ I say.
    Mum beams. ‘How funny – I actually did find this top in a fancy-dress shop!’ She looks so ridiculously happy that I feel a little bit sorry for her. Surely she doesn’t
enjoy
looking through second-hand clothes rails and fancy-dress shops? If we had more money, she would shop in nice places with beautiful things and then maybe she would look like a normal mum. Even Aubrey’s mum doesn’t go out in public in her
Lord of the Rings
stuff. She saves it for conventions. Also, her outfits are obviously a costume, so people know she is really dressing up as a character. But Mum is always getting this wrong. She thinks it is funny to parade around in weird clothes and that I should ‘get a sense of humour’.
    ‘Mum, please at least put a cardigan on before Milly comes round?’ I plead.
    Not that Milly can comment on what other people wear. She is usually covered in cat hair from her thirteen cats. Pongo always goes crazy when she comes round. It is so embarrassing. Milly, of course, doesn’t like Pongo because, as she says, she is ‘not a dog person’.
    Mum’s smile fades and she opens her mouth to speak. Then the phone rings, so she simply shakes