Читать книгу Barry Loser Hates Half Term - Jim Smith - Страница 11

‘But I don’t WANT to go to Pirate Camp!’ I shouted for the millikeelth time, thirteen and three quarter hours later. It was Monday morning and I was sitting in the back seat of my dad’s car on the way to Mogden Pier, which is where the ferry for Mogden Island leaves from.

‘Why not?’ said my dad. ‘I thought you LOVED Pirate Camp.’

‘I USED to love Pirate Camp, but not any more . . . it’s for BABIES!’ I cried, and Desmond, who was sitting next to me in his baby seat, started giggling.

‘You should fit in there just perfectly, then!’ said my dad, and I screwed my face up and stared at him in the rear-view mirror.

‘What in the unkeelness does THAT mean?’ I whined.

‘You’re a big brother now, Barry,’ said my dad. ‘You can’t go screaming round the house acting like a kiddywinkle any more . . .’

‘I am NOT a KIDDYWINKLE!’ I shouted, stomping my feet on the car’s carpet and crossing my arms.

‘Yes, well, until you can prove you’ve grown up a bit, I’m afraid you’ll need to stay on Mogden Island with all the other little babies,’ said my dad.

‘I bet MUM wouldn’t send me to Pirate Camp!’ I shouted.

‘As a matter of fact, I spoke to your mum on the phone this morning and she thinks it’s a great idea,’ said my dad. ‘Who knows - maybe you’ll surprise yourself and enjoy it!’

‘Maybe you’ll surprise YOURself !’ I shouted, which didn’t really make sense, but I wasn’t in the mood to care. ‘Thanks for ruining my half term!’ I grumbled, and I stared out of the window at the ginormous billboard we were driving past.