Dream Guy Read Online Free Page A

expensive as a house. Money was a weird thing. If you said it fast, one hundred and forty thousand pounds didn’t sound like so very much, not when the radio bombarded you with all those boring statistics about how many billions the National Health Service cost or how much credit card debt had been run up in the last six months. But in real life, where you had to take the rubbish out and make sure you did your share of the ironing before Mum would part with a tenner, where next year, a job at McDonalds or at the local Tesco’s on minimum wage was going to be the only way to get any spare cash, the price of a Lamborghini was a crazy number, like the number of matches it would take to build a scale replica of the Houses of Parliament—seventy-eight million three hundred thirty-three thousand six hundred twenty-five—or the number of elephants it would take to stretch between earth and the moon—give or take about fifty-two million five hundred eighty. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough elephants in the world to run that particular experiment, although it would be interesting to design a spacesuit for an elephant.
    Joe went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and check his pimple status before turning out the light. The thing was, if he could make people turn into fish, why couldn’t he make a drawing turn into a real car? It would be inconvenient, though, to have a full-sized car in his room. So perhaps, if he put the drawing outside in the drive, it would be there, ready for the morning.
    Joe slipped on a pair of combats and his hoodie. Then he dug around his desk for a plastic wallet and slipped his drawing into it. He quietly eased his door open. He clung to the wall, taking each step one at a time. Now was not the time for an interrogation from Mum or Ben. But it was dark downstairs, all the lights switched off in the living room and the hall. A dull orange glow from the streetlight shone through the stained glass in the front door. Joe eased back the bolts then carefully pulled at the lever on the lock. He put it on the latch and went into the front garden. There was a pile of bricks tucked below the front wall, left over from the last lot of repairs. Joe took one to anchor down the drawing, hoping that a Lamborghini had sufficient clearance for a brick. He positioned the car so that it was facing out of the drive. He could almost imagine it there. Almost, but not quite.
    After locking up properly, he went to the kitchen and poured himself some mineral water from the fridge. A light flicked on at the top of the stairs.
    “Joe, is that you, love?” Susan Knightley sounded sleepy and a little hesitant.
    “Yeah, Mum.”
    “What are you doing skulking about in the dark?” Relief sharpened her voice. “Honestly, I thought we were being burgled.”
    “I couldn’t get to sleep. I just thought I’d get some water.”
    “Fine. Go to bed, sweetheart. It’s past midnight.”
    Which reminded Joe that he had done absolutely no homework. He could blag the reading, but he knew he had better do the drawings for maths and geography. It didn’t take long, twenty minutes or so with a protractor and a set square, and both assignments were done. He repacked his school bag and climbed into bed, turning his alarm clock on before taking one last look at the picture of the Gallardo, which he had taken from a brochure and stuck on the wall. Then he switched off the light.
     
    * * * *
     
    The next thing Joe knew was his mum ruffling his hair and stroking his cheek.
    “Come on, love. I don’t know what you were doing up half the night, but it’s time for breakfast. You’ll be late if you don’t get up now.”
    He shoved her hand away, then jackknifed up, his eyes bleary. “Okay, Mum. I’ll be down in a sec.” He waited and she backed away. She was wearing her power suit. No wonder she had come up. She had one of her meetings with senior management. She’d be chewing the carpet if they weren’t out of the house promptly