Mimi Read Online Free Page A

pass the house bending down to try and pick it up, but today the lady walks right past it without noticing.
    “Ah, they were the good days,” mutters Dad, and he wanders out of the darkening room, leaving me on my own.
    Orla texts me a joke before I go to bed, which makes me feel less lonely even though I don’t really get it:
    How do u no that owls r cleverer than chickens? Ever heard of Kentucky Fried Owl?
    Nite. C u 2moro. Luv O.

This morning I didn’t want to go to school. I just wanted to stay in bed and make up chats with Socky. And I wanted to read Sally’s diary again when she had gone. Dad wouldn’t have minded if I’d stayed at home — he probably wouldn’t even have noticed. But Aunt B. would not have been pleased when she came by after ten to clean the house and wash our clothes. If I’d told her I felt sick, she’d probably just have given me one of her I-don’t-believe-a-word-of-it looks and packed me off to school chop-chop no more nonsense young lady. So I dragged myself out of bed and off to school. I probably wouldn’t have been so tired if Conor hadn’t decided to bash away at his drums until two in the morning.
    However, am I glad that I went to school today — it was the most exciting day for ages. We had all just sat down and taken out our homework (yes, even me — it was Thursday, after all), when Ms. Addle suddenly clutched her huge tummy and went, “OOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” And then she sat down very heavily with her legs sticking out like straws and breathing in and blowing out like a bagpipe — her eyes all wide and her cheeks all blown up. And then, “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” again. And then she told her tummy in a panicky kind of voice, “You’re not supposed to come for another three weeks!”
    “Are you having the baby now, Ms. Addle?” said Dylan.
    “I hope not!” said Ms. Addle, and then, “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!”
    “She’s having contraptions,” whispered Orla. Orla’s cat had kittens last week, so she’s a bit of an expert on having babies.
    Nobody knew what to do — everyone just sat and stared. Then Ms. Addle said, “Dylan, go and get Archibald, quick!”
    Of course Dylan didn’t know who Archibald was, so he didn’t move — but I knew who Archibald was, because I had heard Ms. Addle call him that once. “She means Mr. Masters, Dylan,” I said. And Dylan said “Oh” and hurried out of the room to get him.
    “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!” roared Ms. Addle. “They’re getting closer!”
    Mr. Masters is the principal of our school and even though they have different last names, he is Ms. Addle’s husband, which is very strange because she’s so nice and kind and, well . . . addled, and he is so horrible and efficient and everything goes right on time in his school.
    But today Mr. Archibald Masters was completely addled too! He came running into the room with fat little Ms. Print, the secretary, puffing behind him. “Aggie, what’s happening?” he shouted at Ms. Addle as he came tearing through the door. I don’t think he noticed us at all. We were all out of our seats now and the classroom was in chaos.
    “The baby is coming, that’s what’s happening!” Ms. Addle spoke quite sharply, but Mr. Masters didn’t seem to notice.
    “How far apart are the contractions? Are you doing the breathing? Somebody call a taxi! You will be all right, love. I’ve got everything under control!”
    “For heaven’s sake, calm down and go and get the car, Archie!” shouted Ms. Addle. But before he could say a word she let out another great roar: “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWW!”
    “Oh, my God!” shouted Archie.
    “You’d think it was Mr. Masters who was going to have the baby!” whispered Orla, and I nearly started giggling.
    Then Ms. Print took over. “Mr. Masters, calm down — this isn’t the first, nor will it be the last, baby to decide to come a little early. Now go and get the car and bring it around to