Fizzypop. Jean Ure
as we all peeled off in our different directions, what Mum would say if I told her I wanted to do modelling. Not that I did, I am just like totally the wrong shape, being sort of… square, I suppose is the word. But I thought I would put it to her, just out of interest. See if she reacted the same way as Jem’s mum. If she did, then maybe it would make Jem feel a bit better and not so down on poor Mrs McClusky. It was really mean of her to call her mum fat!
I started to yell “Mu-u-um” as soon as I let myself in, but then I saw that the door of the front room was closed which meant Mum had someone in there so I went through to the kitchen to find that Dad was home. He was sitting at the kitchen table with Angel, eating pizza. Well, Dad was eating pizza; Angel was nibbling on a lettuce leaf. I was glad he was there as there was something I’d been meaning to ask him. It was a pity about Angel, but as she lives in the same house it is not always easy to avoid her.
“Dad,” I said.
Dad said, “Mm?”
“Can you tell me something?”
“Don’t know till you ask.”
“If you were using an iron,” I said, “and all of a sudden there was a power s—”
“Not again!” shouted Angel. “Don’t you ever give up?”
She looked like she might be going to turn violent.
“Well, all right, then,” I said. “What about the garden shed? You don’t th—”
Angel screamed. A short, sharp, mad sort of scream.
“Do you mind?” I said. “I’m trying to talk.”
“Yes, and I’m trying to relax,” said Dad. “Do I have to remind you both that I was out of the house by five thirty this morning? I’ve had a hard day, I can do without you two going at each other.”
There was a pause.
“I’ve had a hard day,” I said. “We had double maths after lunch.”
“Shut up,” said Angel.
“Shut up yourself!”
“No, you shut up!”
Dad banged on the table. Tom, who had silently come in and helped himself to a slice of pizza, went silently back out. At the door he bumped into Mum, on her way in.
“What’s going on?” said Mum. “What’s with all the noise?”
“They’re at it again,” said Tom.
“For goodness’ sake!” Mum pulled out a chair and sat down next to Dad. “If you have to shout, go and do it somewhere else. Not down our ears!”
Very dignified, cos I wasn’t going to lower myself to Angel’s level, I said, “Pardon me, but I was just trying to talk.”
“Just trying to make excuses! Drivelling on about power surges. Honestly,” said Angel, “I sometimes can’t believe I’m related to it. You didn’t secretly adopt it or something, did you?”
“Not as far as I can recall,” said Mum.
“It wouldn’t worry me,” I said. “Jem’s adopted. She says it makes you special. But I think if I was,” I said, “I’d want to find out who my birth mother was. Wouldn’t you?”
“I suppose I might, at some stage,” agreed Mum.
“Jem says she’s not interested.” Well, that’s what she’d said in her essay. She might feel differently now that her life had been blighted. “She says she wouldn’t want her mum and dad thinking she didn’t love them.”
“In that case,” said Mum, “don’t you go putting ideas in her head.”
“Me?” I said.
“Yes, you.”
“I wouldn’t!”
“Well, make sure you don’t.”
I munched for a bit on a slice of pizza.
“Jem wants to join a model agency,” I said. “She’s decided she wants to model clothes for catalogues and earn pots of money. Would you let one of us do that? If we wanted to? Jem’s mum won’t let her. Jem’s so upset.”
“I wouldn’t mind joining a model agency,” said Angel.
“Oh, no!” Mum was very firm about it. “We’re having none of that, young woman! You’re already quite obsessed enough with your weight as it is.”
“So you mean you wouldn’t let us?” I said. “Not even me? I’m not obsessed!”
“Neither of you,” said Mum.
“But why not? I don’t understand why not!”
“Because apart from anything else, it would distract from your school work.”
“And who would want you, anyway?” said Angel.
I said, “Somebody might.”
Angel tossed her head. She likes doing that as it makes her hair swish. I guess she thinks it will attract boys.
“You have to be joking,” she said. “What would you model? Boxing gloves?”
Dad banged again on the table. “Enough!” he said. “I have had enough. If you can’t manage to be civilised with each other—”
I said, “I’m civilised. She was the one being rude.”
Angel opened her mouth, then caught Dad’s eye and closed it again. Dad doesn’t very often get ratty, but when he does it’s best not to try his patience.
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