The Secret Life of a Funny Girl Read Online Free PDF Page B

from Heather Hiscock, who’s shaking her head in utter disbelief.
    â€œCan you do it again next time?” asks Bernadette O’Grady. “That was the best music class ever!”
    â€œHmm,” I say, tucking my mitts into my coat sleeves, drawing the scene out as long as possible. It does feel good to be the centre of all this attention. “I’m not sure. Guess it depends how bored I get.”
    The three girls laugh and move off, giggling. Meanwhile, Debbie’s standing there eyeing me, not smiling, not saying a word.
    â€œWhat’s your problem?”
    â€œMaureen, are you crazy? If Miss Godwin tells anyone—I mean anyone—you’re in the biggest trouble of your life.”
    â€œOh, don’t be such a grump. And don’t pretend it wasn’t funny, I saw you smiling.”
    â€œOkay, I did smile at the beginning when Miss Godwin was bending over, begging you to come out. But then she got really upset and dropped all those papers and I didn’t think it was so funny anymore. Then I thought it was getting mean. Maureen, what if she tells Sister Marion?”
    â€œWell, I sure hope she doesn’t tell Sister Marion. That would be very bad. But she probably won’t, because I knew the composer of the day, so now I’m teacher’s pet!” We’re striding down the corridor, leather bookbags over our shoulders, heading for Beth-Ann’s classroom.
    â€œI don’t know how on earth you figured that one out. I never heard of John Jenkins.”
    â€œMiss Godwin mentioned him once before and I remembered the name.”
    Debbie shakes her curly hair. “Well, I still think you’re taking an awful chance. Plus, it’s just not right to treat people like that.”
    Isn’t Debbie so sweet? I mean, she’d never be cruel to Miss Godwin, or anyone else for that matter.
    â€œWell, I did say sorry, didn’t I? And I won’t do it again, I promise. From now on, I swear I’m going to be just like you.”
    â€œReenie!” It’s Beth-Ann, her chubby pink face peeking out from the Grade One classroom door.
    â€œBethie!” My voice is all pretend-excited for my baby sister. “Let’s go! Thanks, Miss Dunphy.” I smile at her teacher and take Beth-Ann’s hand in mine.
    It’s cold outside, but the April sun shines as clear as crystal. The wind cuts into our faces, shoots into our lungs, so that it almost hurts to breathe. Still, the fresh air feels fantastic. The three of us click the heels of our shoes along the bare sidewalks of Elizabeth Avenue. White snowbanks have shrunk to black grainy mounds, streams of water running from them into the gutter.
    We chat and giggle until we reach the foot of Downing Street, where Debbie waves goodbye. “Don’t forget to phone if you need a ride to ballet,” she calls out, as she heads up the hill.
    Ballet. The very word drills into my gut and immediately I feel queasy. I’d forgotten about ballet. All the leftover glow and excitement from my performance with Miss Godwin fizzles away to nothing. I can’t miss ballet again. I’ve got to find some way to get there today.
    But Beth-Ann keeps on chattering until I think I’m going to explode. “Bethie, can you please just be quiet? Do you have to talk constantly?” Instantly she falls silent, as each step we take brings us closer to home.

CHAPTER FIVE

    COMING AROUND THE CORNER on Kerry Street, I can see Aunt Kay’s Volkswagen parked in front of the house like a round, red apple. Excellent! If Aunt Kay’s here, then I might get to ballet. We clatter through the front door, dropping our leather bookbags on the hardwood floor.
    â€œHello! We’re home! Aunt Kay?”
    The living room is empty but there’s a definite rumble in the distance. Next thing the dining room door crashes open and two small red-headed boys burst through, white plastic airplanes held high over