Wonderland Read Online Free PDF Page B

She lights one up. “So, what are we going to do about Emily?”
    “I don’t know.” I shrug. “Nothing?”
    “Wrong answer,” retorts Stella. “Come on, Jude. She needs to learn a lesson. Like the ponytail. But bigger. And better. And badder.”
    “No, Stella. Leave it. It’s not worth it,” I plead.
    “Bollocks. She’s a plastic bitch and she’s going to pay for it. I just need to figure out how.”
    “But —”
    “No buts. Here, hold this.” She hands me her cigarette. “My bra strap’s all twisted.”
    Then I get that feeling. You know. Like you are being watched.
    “Jude?”
    I look up, panicked. Oh, God. My drama teacher, Mr. Hughes. I glance at Stella with what I hope is a “Just don’t say anything, don’t even look at him, and cover up your bra” look. Stella ignores me and smiles at him. A Cheshire-cat-that-got-the-cream smile. Mr. Hughes says nothing. But he’s seen it. Seen her.
    “So, Jude.” But he’s looking at Stella still, distracted. Seconds pass. Then it’s as if he returns from another place. Back to me. “You were great this morning.”
    “Oh . . . right. Thanks.” I wonder if he’s just saying that or if he really means it. If I really am good. Good enough to pass the exam. Good enough for the Lab.
    “Seriously.” He smiles. “You’ve got no worries.”
    I nod. Believing him now.
    “So, can I expect you in A-level theater later?”
    “Sorry?”
    “Introduction? This afternoon? I mean, I know you’re not coming back.” He laughs. “But in case you change your mind. Decide to slum it with us for another two years . . .”
    “Right. Yeah, I think so.”
    “Great. Great.” He pauses. “You’ll want to give that up, though. Bad for the voice. Unless you want to sound like Bob Dylan. Which I’m guessing you don’t.”
    I look at the cigarette, still burning between my fingers. “Oh, God. Sorry . . . I mean, sorry for saying God as well.” I glare at Stella but she’s looking at Mr. Hughes. “It’s not mine. Really. I . . .”
    He smiles. “Well. OK. Good.” He turns to go, then stops and glances over his shoulder at us. “Oh. And don’t let anyone else catch you looking like that. I know it’s only a few weeks, but uniform is uniform.”
    I nod, gormlessly, as he heads back toward the quad. Then stare down at my shirt, my kilt. Regulation. He must mean Stella. Must think she’s a Duchy girl. As if. I turn to her. “Thanks a bloody million. You could have told him it was yours.”
    But Stella isn’t listening. “Oh, my God. He is gorgeous.”
    “Stella!”
    “What? He is.” She looks at me, smiles. “Oh, don’t tell me you don’t fancy him. You’re so bloody transparent.”
    And I am. It’s like she can see inside me. See every dirty secret that lurks in the darkness. But that was finished long ago. It never even started. It was just a crush. Childish. Pathetic. And I knew he wouldn’t. And nor would I.
    “No way. He’s got a girlfriend. Anyway, he’s old.”
    “What is he? Thirty? That’s not old.”
    “Stella!”
    “He is, though, isn’t he?” Stella elbows me, grinning. “A babe, I mean.”
    I pause.
    “Kind of . . .” I admit.
    Because he is. Hair curling over the neckband of his washed-out concert T-shirt. Old tweed jacket and jeans. Skin turning brown from the June sun. Not like the other teachers in their navy-blue suits and Ford Mondeos.
    I watch him disappear into the theater building, the doors swinging shut behind him. Then I turn to her. “You’d better go, Stell. He’s right. If anyone else sees you, I’ll be in detention for a week.”
    She stubs her cigarette out on the scorched grass. “School’s out for summer.”
    “Not at Duchy it’s not.” Never mind that we’re on exam leave. Or that half of us won’t even be back in the autumn. Duchy girls breathe rules. And Stella has broken at least three.
    She’s silent for a second. Then I see it. A flicker in her eyes. A dare. “Come with me,” she