Pick ‘n’ Mix

I was doomed.

Chapter Two (#uc9a74161-f8b5-518c-8326-37e055eb9347)

“So then Mum said how would we feel if she came to live with us for a bit, and I said I wouldn’t mind, except if it meant sharing a bedroom with Angel, cos you know what she’s like.”

Jemma said, “Yuck, yes!”

Skye nodded, wisely. “Wouldn’t work.”

“Well, this is it,” I said. “I mean, imagine.”

It was Monday afternoon and we were walking back from school. Skye and Jem are my best mates. I’d been bursting all day to tell them about what had happened to my carpet and the terrible trouble I was going to be in, but what with one thing and another this was the first chance I’d had.

“Anyway,” I said, “I got this bright idea? I said if Angel moved into my room, me and her could share Angel’s room—”

“You and this girl?”

“Emilia. Yes! But—”

“What’s she like?”

“Oh –” I waved a hand. “She’s all right.” Emilia wasn’t what I wanted to talk about. What I wanted to talk about was this fearsome thing that was hanging over me. The hole in my carpet… “I don’t actually know her very well. The thing is—”

“Suppose you don’t get on?” said Jem.

“We’ll get on! It’s only for a few weeks.” I’m not like Angel, I don’t get all fussed and bothered about stuff. Angel is always on about her ‘stuff’ and how no one’s got to touch it. “The thing is—”

“Could seem like for ever,” said Skye.

“Well, it won’t, cos it’s not! The awfulthing is she’s coming tomorrow and tonight we’re going to swap bedrooms and Mum’s going to discover there’s a hole in my carpet!”

The words wailed out of me. There was a silence. Then Skye, very solemnly, said, “A hole.”

“In my carpet!”

They looked at each other. “You mean it’s, like, threadbare?” said Jem. “No! I cut it.”

“You what?” said Skye.

“I cut it!”

“Cut your carpet?”

Honestly! It is so annoying when people keep repeating everything you say.

“Yes,” I snapped. “I cut my carpet!”

“But why?”

“Cos I wanted Gran’s cabinet to fit in the corner and the ceiling wasn’t high enough!”

“So you cut the carpet.”

Really, for someone who is supposed to have this immense great brain, always getting A pluses and coming top of everything, Skye can be incredibly slow on the uptake. How many more times did I have to tell her? Yes, I cut the carpet!

“It would have been all right,” I said, “if it hadn’t gone and frayed round the edges. Nobody would have noticed. It was Rags that messed things up. He tugged at it. He’s made a bald patch!”

“Dunno what to say,” said Skye.

Jem sniggered. “Bet her mum’ll find something!”

She thought that was funny? One of my best friends thought it was funny that Mum was going to be mad at me? I glared at her.

“Well, sorry,” said Jem, “but really! You do the stupidest things.”

I resented that. “It wasn’t stupid,” I said, “it was the logical solution. If you can’t make the ceiling higher, you make the floor lower. I was just being practical! You can’t have a corner cabinet not standing in a corner.”

“Of course you can’t,” said Skye, soothingly. “You did what anyone would have done… you cut a hole in your carpet!”

She and Jem both fell about.

“It was only small,” I pleaded.

“Only small!” shrieked Jem, clutching herself round the middle.

“Now it’s this size –” Skye held her arms out in a circle. They collapsed on each other, helpless with foolish giggles.

Crossly, I said, “How was I to know it would start unravelling?”

“Unravelling!” squeaked Jem.

Screech. Hoot. These were supposed to be my friends.

Skye wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. “Maybe you could say it was Rags that made the hole.”

“And get a poor little innocent dog into trouble? I couldn’t do that! In any case,” I said, “you can tell it’s been cut.” Not meaning to boast, I added that I had made a proper pattern. “I cut right round the edge of it with Dad’s knife. The one he uses for carpets. It’s really sharp! I was ever so careful, cos I didn’t want to cut myself. I just wanted my cabinet to go in a corner!”

“And now it’s in one,” said Skye, soothingly.

“Yes, but there’s a great bald patch!” I explained how for the moment I’d hidden the bald patch beneath a pile of clothes. “But Angel’s like this real tidiness freak? She’ll want it all cleared up. I tried suggesting me and Emilia share my room, I even offered to sleep downstairs, like on the sofa or something, so’s Emilia could have the room to herself, cos she probably wouldn’t mind a few clothes lying about the floor, but M—”

“How old is this girl?” said Jem.

I looked at her, annoyed. I felt like saying, “Pardon me, but I was in the middle of speaking.” It is really bad manners to interrupt a person.

“Emilia,” said Jem. “How old is she?”

“She’s thirteen, but—”