Читать книгу Barry Loser and the trouble with pets - Jim Smith - Страница 48

Then on Thursday at break time when I headed over to the corner of the playground to peer through the fence into the back garden of the old lady me and Bunky spy on while she talks to her plants.

‘What in the name of unkeelness is SHE doing here?’ I gasped, spotting Fay Snoggles’s bum next to my best friend’s. Both of them were bent in half, looking through the fence and sniggling.

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