Pretty Funny by Rebecca Elliott

Author:Rebecca Elliott [Elliott, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780241374634
Publisher: Penguin Random House Children's UK
Published: 2020-03-19T00:00:00+00:00

On Monday morning, Noah refuses to put his uniform on as he’s convinced he’s now ‘allergic to jumpers’ (he’s not actually allergic to anything but he hears other kids talking about their conditions at school and he wants a part of the action. The other day he insisted he couldn’t wipe his bum any more because he was ‘dyslexic’). Then he insists on walking to school backwards for most of the journey because he’s ‘bored of forward walking’. So inevitably I get to school late. Again.

I walk down the corridor, and to be honest I’m not really looking forward to seeing Chloe as I’m still annoyed with her about Friday night. She sent me a few messages asking if I was OK over the weekend, but I was pretty short with my responses.

On the other hand, my head is merrily filled with the song ‘I’m going round to Leo’s after school, do-dah, do-dah! Because he thinks that I’m so cool, do-dah do-dah-day!’ Which leaves little room for annoyance. So I decide not to mention anything to Chloe about Friday night, or about Leo, as I don’t want anything to ruin this feeling. But of course this is ridiculously optimistic.

When I walk into the classroom, I can sense that something is not quite right. The air in the room tenses up as I enter, and the roar of thirty-three students all bellowing and shrieking at each other deadens to a purr. All eyes in the room fix on me; some stifle their giggles, others let them loose, and a few hands are cupped round clueless nearby ears as whispers are exchanged.

My cheeks burn red as I run my hands down the buttons of my shirt, checking to see that I’ve remembered to dress myself correctly and that one of my boobs hasn’t flopped out without me noticing. Then my brain catches up with the rest of the class as I realize what they must be laughing at.

Oh, please, no.

‘Late again, Haylah?’ says Mrs Perkins.

‘Yeah, sorry, miss,’ I mumble.

‘Too busy trying to snog other people’s dads!’ says a voice from a group of boys at the side of the class.

That confirms it. Everyone knows about Friday night. About my disastrous attempt at being a comedian ending in me groping Leo’s dad and my butt cheeks laying waste to the stage like two fleshy steamrollers.

‘What was that, Greg?’ says Mrs Perkins.

‘Nothing, miss,’ says class bully and massive twonknut Greg before he carries on sniggering with the rest of the room.

I raise my head high. I won’t let them get the better of me.

‘Well, obviously not your dad, Greg,’ I blurt, ‘who, if he’s anything like you, is so ugly that when he looks in a mirror it slaps him.’

‘Ha ha! Roasted!’ yells Dylan, slapping his mate Greg hard on the back.

Greg slumps down into his chair as the rest of the class laugh, but this time at least it’s with me. Then they swiftly return to their morning gossip and general arsing about.

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