By the Time You Read This Read Online Free

been referring to me as “Lo Bag” since, like, forever. As I explained about The Manual AGAIN, Corey’s index finger disappeared almost whole into his left ear as Carla stifled yet another yawn.
    “He gives me advice and stuff…”
    “So, what you’re saying is, your dad tells you what to do even though he’s dead?” asked Corey, eyes searching the street ahead for his friends who were meeting him in ten minutes.
    “No…not really…” I replied defensively.
    “Bummer,” he added again anyway as Carla shook her head in apparent agreement with her brother. I sighed inwardly, disappointed that my friends found it so difficult to understand my new situation. But then, I couldn’t really expect them to.
    An offensive bang on the chip-shop window interrupted our conversation.
    “Hey you kids, buzz off if you ain’t buying anything! stop loitering!”
    “Charming!” I said.
    “Screw you!” shouted my friends as Corey placed two middle fingers firmly against the smeared window. Feeling a little left out, I spat a weak, “No, you buzz off!” in the proprietor’s direction as I followed my friends across the road. My weak attempt at rebellion before the usual indignity of school the next day.
    So the countdown begins. Bet you can’t wait to officially become a teenager. If only you knew that one day you’ll realize turning your clock back every winter is not enough. You’ll want another five, ten, twenty years back soon. But I won’t bore you with that right now, I may come back to it later. For now, it’s my hope you’ll manage to do one thing this year you’ll remember forever and ever.
    Can you think of anything?
    Dad will give you a clue.
    When I was twelve, I remember my dad taking me kite-flying for the very first time. It was a great day. The sun was shining brightly and I had to really squint as my eyes chased the red and blue kite floating in the sky. I was exhausted by the end of it all—so much so that when I chased the ice-cream van, I found I couldn’t catch up. I was so angry, while my dad was in fits! But that was okay because I was out with my dad, being boys, being free…just me and him and away from Philomena, Ina and Mom. I’ve never forgotten that day—even now at my age—because it was one of the last times I really remember feeling like a kid.
    I know we can’t have those days together, but I really hope you and your mom have taken time out to make some lovely lasting memories of your own. Even so, I want you to make one more lasting memory this year.
    Promise?
    I searched my brain, tackling the events of the past year: Mom getting serious with then marrying the Bingo Caller; her constantly having a go at me; being marched up to the local market and suffering the very public indignityof picking out a “training bra.” Frankly, it had been a terrible year, but I owed it to Dad to do “something to remember” before I hit thirteen.
    I mentioned it to Carla that evening.
    “We could go ice skating,” she offered unhelpfully. Since getting her hair cut even shorter last week she’d decided to switch identities and was now all sophisticated—and stupid. I wondered what would happen if I took the scissors to my own mass of frizz. Nevertheless, I loved being around her and the family, as without them I’d be stuck at home with Mr. and Mrs. Boring. Popping round for Sunday lunch reminded me what a normal family could be like. Her mom was not only as beautiful as any movie star, she knew about stuff I cared about and dressed really good. Even Carla’s dad was quite good-looking—if you liked geriatrics (he was at least thirty-five). And apart from Corey disappearing to the moon minus a return ticket, Carla mostly got everything she wished for—records, clothes, shoes. And, most importantly, I’d yet to witness a spat between her parents—unlike Mom and the Bingo Caller. I also wished to be as pretty as Carla—soft, spot-free skin with the slimmest waist, just like her