Читать книгу The Neighbours: A gripping, addictive novel with a twist that will leave you breathless - Hannah McKinnon Mary - Страница 11

NOW SARAH

Dear Diary,

I think Benjamin Franklin said, “Guests, like fish, begin to smell after three days.” Well, me and Mum would never make it that long. We stink after three hours.

People say I’m like her. I suppose we have the same hair, nose and maybe eyes. But that’s it. Thank god my personality’s much more like Dad’s because Mum’s a nightmare.

For example, even though I was shattered this morning, I was still looking forward to spending time with her and getting my boots. That lasted about thirty seconds until we got in the car. First of all, Mum had a go at me about the Word of the Day calendar she gave me for Christmas. The conversation (not that it was a proper conversation) went something like:

Mum: Why aren’t you using it? Don’t you want to be a journalist? I thought it would help.

Me: I haven’t had time.

Mum: Oh, come off it, Sarah. You spend forever on that phone of yours.

Ugh!

And when I tried on the combats, Mum went all passive-aggressive with eye rolls and huffs. We studied the behavior at school when Ms. Phillips tried to show the class how pathetic it was, hoping we’d stop. Except of course we didn’t because we knew how much it peed her off.

So, when I asked Mum what was wrong she huffed again and said the boots were “aggressive looking” and “not very feminine.” I told her not to worry. That during the summer I’d only wear flip-flops and micro shorts where half your bum hangs out.

Me: What do you think, Mum? Those shorts are really feminine.

Mum: You will not be wearing those, young lady. Absolutely not. Over my dead body.

She even used the tone. God. I’d meant it as a joke. Like I’d ever be seen dead with half my bum hanging out. Not that it’s a bad butt. Actually I think it’s a quite okay butt, thank you very much, but (and that’s a lot of buts, ha ha) I wouldn’t walk around with it on display. I thought Mum would get the joke. I mean, doesn’t she know me at all?

Anyway, I bought my combats (black leather, funky, sassy, kick-ass and 60% off, yes!). Mum found a coat (black wool, single-buttoned, boring, predictable, 40% off, still not bad). And then, of course, we couldn’t agree on lunch. I wanted a burger. She wanted sushi. We ended up at Pret. Sandwiches must be the gastronomic equivalent of neutrality. Hey, that’s not a bad line. Must remember that one for my next essay.

We’re home now, and she said we should visit the new neighbors. She texted Dad, and he’s helping them put furniture together or something. Hardly a surprise. Dad’s always fixing stuff. I thought he was Bob the Builder until I was six. Might even have called Mum Wendy once (oops!). Speaking of, she told me to hurry up again. I’d better go before she flips her lid.

Later,

Sarah x.

PS. Word of the day: fantod, noun.

1. plural a: a state of irritability and tension.

b: fidgets.

2: an emotional outburst (fit).

As in: Going shopping with my mother gave me the fantods! Hahahaha!