Love Lessons Read online

  Dad's eyes filled with tears.

  'Oh Prue, don't upset him! Maybe you should put it away,' Mum whispered.

  'Don't worry, Dad. I'm sure you'll be able to read it all soon. Meanwhile, I'll read it, shall I?'

  Dad nodded, and so I read to him. He twitched 167

  and sniffled for a minute or two and then he became absorbed. Grace yawned and twiddled her thumbs and did mini Iggy-Figgy waves to herself. Mum frowned at her as if she was fidgeting in church. She had an expression of pious concentration on her face but her eyes were darting all round the room. I knew she was thinking about Dad's washing and cooking our tea and all the final demands and bailiff's threats at home.

  I read on, my voice starting to mimic Dad's old intonations and accent as I worked my way through his convoluted sentences. I started to ham it up just a little, inserting a Dad-cough here and a Dad-sniff there. Mum glared. Grace snorted. Dad snorted too, regularly, again and again. He was fast asleep and snoring. His Magnum Opus had worked like a bedtime story for a tired toddler.

  I left my cut-price annotated version on his bedside locker. I hoped Dad might enjoy glancing at it, but when we visited on Sunday it was missing. I asked him about it but Dad looked blank and shook his head. So much for my labour of love. One of the cleaners had obviously chucked it in the rubbish bin. Dad had forgotten all about it.

  I'd been going to copy out more of it, maybe even do a couple of watercolour illustrations, but now I decided not to bother.

  I hid myself away on Sunday evening, constructing a surreal sculpture based on our 168

  old doll's house. I made a papier-mâché man, deliberately too big for the house. His arms reached out of the windows, his feet stuck out of the door, his head was halfway out of the chimney, but he couldn't escape, try as he might.

  I fashioned a fat fur mouse out of an old pair of mittens, and made two tiny mice from each thumb. The man had a collar round his neck.

  The fat mouse had the lead tightly clasped in her paws. The two tiny mice scrabbled on his shoulders, shrieking in his ears.

  Grace crept up on me and peered over my shoulder. 'That's good – but weird,' she said. 'It's like t h a t Alice book. Is it Alice?'

  Dad had once discovered what he thought was a first edition of Alice in Wonderland at a jumble sale and thought it would make our fortune, but of course it wasn't a real first edition, just an illustrated edition from much later t h a t was hardly worth a bean. Dad couldn't bear to see it on the shelf in the shop and gave it to me as a colouring book.

  'Yes, it's Alice,' I said to Grace.

  How could she be idiotic enough to think I'd give Alice a beard?

  'Is it for homework?'

  'Sort of.'

  'Have you done all your other homework?'

  'Nope.'

  'Hadn't you better get cracking?'

  'I'm not doing it.'

  'You'll get into trouble.'

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  'See if I care.'

  I did get into trouble on Monday, but it wasn't over homework. I got to school early, wandered across the playground, walked over to the playing field and hovered near the art block. I hoped t h a t Rax might be at school early too, but his art room was in darkness and there was no sign of him. I sighed and started trailing back towards the main building. We didn't have art on Monday. I had a dreaded maths session in the Success Maker.

  I looked longingly at t h e school gate, wondering whether to make a r u n for it. Rita was flouncing through the gate into school, tossing her head, obviously sounding off about something to her friends, Aimee, Megan and Jess. Then she looked up and saw someone. She s t a r t e d r u n n i n g forwards, her p r e t t y face contorted. I looked round. There was no one behind me. She was angry with me.

  'You cow! You scheming lying cheating little cow!' she screamed right in my face.

  I stepped back, because she was spraying me with spit.

  'Don't you dare back away from me!' she yelled. She seized a handful of my hair and tugged hard.

  'Stop it! Get off!' I said. 'Have you gone mad?'

  'You're the mad girl, thinking you can mess around with me by stealing my boyfriend!'

  'I haven't stolen your stupid boyfriend,' I said, jerking my head to make her let go.

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  You liar! I saw you with him in McDonald's,'

  said Aimee. 'You were right at the back, cuddling up to him, practically sitting on his lap, hanging on his every word.'

  'I was listening to him read,' I said.

  'Oh yeah, and I can read you like a book,' cried Rita. 'You set out to get him away from me the moment you came barging into our school in your stupid sad dresses a n d your slag's underwear. How dare you! Me and Toby have had a thing going ever since Year Eight. He's mine, everyone knows that.'

  'OK, OK. He's yours. I don't want him,' I said.

  'I don't even like him.'

  'What? Toby's the only decent boy in our year.

  Everyone reckons him!'

  'Well, not me. So I don't know why you're making such a stupid fuss. You can keep him.'

  'You know he's broken up with me!' Rita said, and she started crying.

  Aimee a n d Megan and J e s s h a d all been egging her on, enjoying the fight, but now they clucked round her like mother hens.

  'He told me it's all over. He says he still wants to be my friend but he doesn't love me any more.

  He tried to smooth his way out of things but I soon got the whole story out of him. It's all because of you, Prudence King!'

  They all looked at me accusingly.

  'I haven't done anything!' I said.

  'He says you talk together, t h a t you say all sorts of stuff. What have you been telling him?'

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  'Nothing! Well, nothing special. Look, Rita, I swear I didn't know he was going to break up with you. It's not my fault.' I tried to say it calmly and reasonably b u t my h e a r t was thumping hard. Maybe it was my fault, just a little bit? It was awful seeing Rita crying like that, tears dribbling down her face, her nose running, with everyone staring at her.

  I held out my hand. 'I'm sorry,' I said.

  She stared at me, her face all screwed up, almost ugly. 'Don't you dare feel sorry for me!' she said, and she flew at me and slapped my face.

  I slapped her back, just as hard.

  'Fight, fight, fight!' the girls yelled.

  Rita and I hit out at each other, slapping, scratching, tugging hair, tearing at each other's clothes, toppling over and rolling on the floor.

  'Prudence King, Rita Rogers, stop scrapping this instant!'

  It was Miss Wilmott. She grabbed Rita by one wrist, me by the other, and pulled us both up.

  'Whatever's got into you! Fighting like gutter children and yet you're both in Year Ten! What sort of behaviour is this?'

  'Prue stole Rita's boyfriend, miss,' said Aimee.

  'It's all Prue's fault.'

  'I don't care whose fault it is. I'm not having any pupils of Wentworth behaving like animals, especially not over boyfriends!' said Miss Wilmott. 'Go and tidy yourselves up, girls, and then come and stand outside my office. You're both in very serious trouble.'

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  We ended up having to spend the entire morning outside her office, me standing on one side of the door, Eita t h e other, in public disgrace. We weren't supposed to look at each other, but whenever I glanced Rita's way she seemed to be in tears.

  I didn't particularly mind standing there. It was certainly preferable to maths. I'd have liked to be able to read, but t h a t couldn't be helped.

  I held long conversations in my head with J a n e instead. I didn't want to talk to Tobias. I wanted to steer clear of all boys, even imaginary ones.

  Every now and then the bell went and pupils charged past us, r u s h i n g up a n d down the corridor. They stared at Rita, they stared at me.

  Rita's friends had obviously been talking. It was clear from the black looks directed at me whose side everyone was on.