Skinny Melon and Me Read Online Free Page A

weren’t talking any more, just stomping along in a simmering silence.
    I went on simmering all through tea, because I think it’s good to let people stew in their own juice for a bit otherwise they think you’re crawling. I mean, I didn’t see why I should be the one to ring when she was just as much to blame as I was. In fact she was the one who started it, going on about the goldfish. If she hadn’t gone on about goldfish, I wouldn’t have said that about her kidding herself over her bust. I know the goldfish were earlier, but it really maddened me her saying what she said. That is, about me being horrible to Slime. She ought to try living with him.
    For instance, all the time I’m simmering he’s sitting there at the table cracking his fingers, which is this thing that he does. Crack, crack, crack, going off like pistol shots. And then he starts making more of his stupid jokes like, “What do you get if you cross a witch with an ice cube? A cold spell,” until I couldn’t stand it any more so I went and tried ringing the Skinbag, only her number was engaged, but then seconds later she rang me and said she’d tried to get me before but
my
number was engaged, and I said, “That was me trying to get you,” and she said, “Oh, right,” and there was this awkwardpause, and then we both spoke together in a rush.
    I said, “I’m really sorry I said that about your face looking like a Frankfurter,” and Skinny said, “I apologise for saying you were a midget.” And so then we were friends again and started talking about our maths homework.
    Why couldn’t Mum and Dad be like that?
Wednesday
    Scum and matter pie, and a dollop of cold sick. Well, that’s what it looked like. Skinny and me have this theory about school dinners. We reckon they take all the stuff that’s scraped off the plates and recycle it. Then they dish it back up as slime or slush or squidgy messes and give it fancy names such as Cheese and Onion Tart or Lentil Bake. No wonder the staff don’t eat with us. Mrs James says it’s to avoid the rabble (meaning us). She says, “We like a bit of peace and quiet.”
    I bet! They like a bit of proper food and not regurgitated yuck.
Thursday
    Rat hot-pot. Slimey Roland wouldn’t have touched it! He’s a cranky vegetarian. He said to me yesterday, “Youwouldn’t eat a puppy, would you? So why eat a lamb?” He has a nerve, talking about puppies. If it weren’t for him I could have one. I’m going to see them tomorrow.
Friday
    I saw them. They are gorgeous! They look like little balls of fluff.

    But all of them have been spoken for except one. I came rushing home to tell Mum and she said, “Oh, Cherry, don’t start that again!” in a pleading sort of voice, which shows she’s got a guilty conscience. I said, “But Mum, they’re so gorgeous!” and at that point Slimey Roland came barging into the conversation. He said, “Oh, Cherry Pie, I’m so sorry! It’s all my fault. Don’t go on at your mum!”
    I hope he isn’t going to make a habit of calling me Cherry Pie. It makes me want to throw up.
Saturday
    Slime said to me at breakfast this morning, “By the way, little lambs are rather gorgeous, too.”
    What’s that to do with anything? I’m not asking for a lamb!

    141 Arethusa Road
London W5
    Sunday 2 October
    Dearest Carol,
    Just a quickie as I have to go and help Roly with the pond. It’s coming along apace! Cherry still refuses to have anything to do with it but she’ll come round. When we actually get the fish she won’t be able to resist it. She’s still resentful of the fact that she can’t have a dog, and I must say that I would rather like one myself, and so would Roly. He is not opposed to dogs, in fact he loves them, as he loves all small creatures (including cross-grained eleven year olds!) but we simply can’t run the risk of setting off his allergy. I think left to himself he might weaken, but I’m not having him ruin his health just to keep Cherry happy. I