Читать книгу All That Glitters - Holly Smale, Холли Смейл - Страница 9

o, I’ve done a little studying on the art of making new friends and I’m happy to report that there appear to be a few basic rules for us all to follow.

I have boiled it down to: find things in common, smile and laugh lots (this indicates a sunny and welcoming personality), ask questions, remember details and never wear the same outfit as them without asking first.

Which sounds deceptively easy.

Over the last sixteen years I’ve successfully made just four friends: my stalker classmate, Toby Pilgrim; my dog, Hugo; a Japanese model called Rin (who would happily befriend a sausage); and my Best Friend Nat, who I met when I was five and literally couldn’t have less in common with if I tried.

So I think it’s fair to say I need all the advice I can get.

The way I see it, the fact book in my hand isn’t just fascinating trivia, relevant to the trials and tribulations of daily living (which it also is). It’s a bridge between me and other people. With these scientifically proven nuggets of information, I’ll be able to find things in common with everyone.

Oh, you like tennis? Well, did you know that the longest ever match lasted eleven hours? You’re a big fan of keeping fit? The most push-ups ever performed in one day was 46,001!

Have a cat? Cats kill more than 275 million creatures a year in the UK alone!

It doesn’t matter whether it’s film or sport or songs or animals or a fondness for fizzy drinks (they dissolve teeth!): somehow, I’ll be able to find a connection. A link between me and them. Something to pull us together.

All friendship requires is focus and dedication.

And a little bit of knowledge.

I learn all about crocodiles as I wander down the road to school and past the bench where Nat usually meets me (except now she’s at fashion college on the other side of town).

Caterpillars get a brief look-over as I quickly glance around for Toby – there’s no sign of him – and pull my phone out of my pocket to check for texts from my modelling agent, Stephanie (as per usual, absolutely zero – my fashion career appears to have fallen into some kind of coma).

US presidents fill in the gap as I clumsily open and walk through the school gates.

The world’s largest lakes occupy my opening of the stiff front door and stroll down the silent corridor into my empty classroom.

Then I take a seat, turn to a page about the London Underground, and wait.

I’ve specifically chosen to get to school early today so I have plenty of time to adjust before my new form arrives. Thanks to Dad’s job at the time, I was living in America for the first few weeks of term – being tortured by a tutor who turned out to be a fake, and fainting on fairground fashion shoots – so I really need the extra time. This way I can acclimatise to my new environment, cram some last-minute knowledge in and maybe stop my stomach from rolling over and over like a sick guppy while I’m at it.

Nervously, I clutch my book as tightly as I can.

Focus, Harriet.

The London Underground is the world’s first underground transport system. It has a network of 402 kilometres, carries 1,265 billion people a year and is actually more overground than it is undergr—

“Harriet Manners?”

I swallow. This is it. This is where my new beginning starts. Be cool, Harriet. Be casual. Be as full of relevant yet breezy information as physically possible.

With a deep breath, I plaster on my biggest and friendliest smile and put my book down.

“Good morning,” I say in my brightest voice. “It’s super nice to meet y—”

Then I stop.

Because standing in front of me is a group of what appear to be fully grown adults, holding clipboards and pens.

And every single one of them is staring at me.