The Worst of Me Read Online Free Page A

page. I watched as these perfect sentences came out of her head fully formed. What would I have given for a brain like that? Dee was a bit like my fairy godmother. She turned up just in time to cover for me in class, took the piss so I got over myself a bit, and made me feel like less of a social outcast. When we read out our scene, we were a bit hyper because we’d been laughing, and it stood out in the half-asleep class. Afterwards, the teacher raved about it and I sat and took the praise for someone else’s talent, feeling bad about that, but grateful too.
    We were walking out of class together and I heard a voice behind us – Alison Francis, not my biggest fan, or Dee’s – doing an impression of us reading our scene out,giving us both stupid singy voices and making us self-deluded wannabe actresses. Her friend Mia laughed extra loud to make sure we could hear her. My ears kind of popped as if I’d put my head in water, and I felt hot and sick. Dee and I didn’t turn round or look at each other, but I could sense her whole body stiffening and we stopped talking and didn’t start again. We had different lessons next, and she gave a little sigh and said, ‘See you later, then?’ and I nodded.
    I couldn’t wait for the day to be over, but I wasn’t mad about going home either. Paul was often back early on Thursdays; he worked at the university and had a half-day. He usually started making dinner to get brownie points with my mum. He’d also try to make conversation with me until she got back, for the same reason. I usually said I had homework to do and went straight upstairs to listen to music. But that narked him off, when he was trying to make a good impression and being ignored. He came up sometimes to see if I needed help, or ask if I minded ‘nipping’ to the corner shop for him to get him an onion or whatever.
    Because I lived so close to the school I didn’t have any excuses for taking my time getting home. There were no buses to let me down, no traffic jams or road diversions. So on Thursdays, just to stretch out the walk, I used to go to the cake shop in the row of shopsnext to the school, buy a sticky cream cake, and eat it messily as I walked home slowly. It made me feel a bit better, and also meant I wasn’t starving when I got back – Paul was always annoyed if I came home and headed straight for the fridge on days when he was cooking.
    That day I went for one of those weird round chocolate ball things with chocolate vermicelli all over it. I’d bitten into it even before I’d left the shop.
    Then I saw Jonah at the empty bus stop.
    ‘That looks nice,’ he said, when I was close enough to speak to.
    ‘What?’
    ‘Your little cake.’ He nodded at it, smiling. I almost threw it away, straight up in the air, like a little kid getting rid of the thing they’ve been told they’re not allowed – it felt incredibly kiddy to be eating a cake. ‘You don’t have to look so guilty,’ he said. ‘You’re obviously not dieting.’
    I frowned at him, pretending to look slightly shocked. ‘You know, there are
some
people who could be a bit offended by that.’
    ‘No, I meant ’cause you’re so slim,’ Jonah said. ‘Sorry, that sounds like the kind of thing one of my dad’s sleazy friends would say.’
    ‘How many sleazy friends has your dad got?’
    He rolled his eyes upwards as if trying to rememberand count them. ‘Er . . . two,’ he said. His eyes glinted with fun.
    We looked at each other. I didn’t feel nervous now. I wasn’t even nervous about the fact that I didn’t feel nervous. I was excited, the way you are when your favourite programme is about to come on telly, and you know you’re going to love every second but it’s going to be over too soon.
    ‘This is kind of a weird conversation,’ Jonah said. He rocked back on his heels and grinned.
    ‘Is it?’ I said, with a kind of sigh. ‘I was trying to sound normal.’
    ‘You’re not that normal,’ he said.
    ‘Oh . .