Zodiac Girls: Brat Princess by Cathy Hopkins

Author:Cathy Hopkins [Hopkins, Cathy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Pan Macmillan

“I am soooo going to make my parents pay for this,” I said to Lynn at the end of week one as we went to the gym for sports activities.

“Yeah,” she said. “In the meantime, though, I wonder what torture Mario has lined up for us this evening.”

We didn’t have to wait long to find out. Mr O came jogging around the corner. He looked ridiculous. He was dressed in a white tracksuit with what looked like a white cashmere scarf tossed casually around his neck. His trainers were pure white too, like they’d never been worn outside. With his dazzling good looks, he always looked like he was about to go into a photo shoot for a men’s catalogue – not a hair out of place, his teeth brighter than bright, his skin so tanned it was almost orange.

“Hedley-Dent, you’re with me,” he said. “The rest of you, Mario said meet him out front for a night hike.”

“Oh nooooooooo,” groaned Jake. “Not again.”

“Fresh air is good for the soul,” said Mr O, who then indicated that I should follow him. I slouched along behind him as he led me into the gym and flicked on the lights. Hanging from the ceiling was what looked like an enormous sausage.

“What is that?” I asked.

Mr O flashed his kilowatt smile. “That is whatever you want it to be.”

“Ah. So it’s a private plane to get me out of here?”

“No need to be sarcastic, Leonora. Didn’t you get my zodiac message this morning?”

I shrugged. “Yeah.” Like all the messages, I had cast a cursory glance over it before putting it in the bin. It had said something about the Moon being square to Mars.

“Emotions that are hard to express can manifest in anger or impatience, especially for a Leo. I’m going to show you another way to get them out.”

“Whatever,” I said and pointed back at the sausage thing. “So. What is it?”

“It’s a punchbag.”

“You’re going to teach me to box?”

“Not exactly.”

“So what then?”

“Go and give it a bash and you’ll see,” he said. “I’ll show you how.”

He pranced off towards the bag and starting taking jabs at it in the way that you see boxers doing when in training for a fight. After a few minutes, he stopped, went to the equipment cupboard at the back of the gym, pulled out a pair of boxing gloves and tossed them to me. “Your turn.”

I put on the gloves, approached the bag and gave it a tap.

“Put some elbow into it, girl,” commanded Mr Razzle Dazzle.

I gave it another tap.

“Nooooo, like this,” said Mr O as he ran towards the bag and whacked it. “Come on Leonora. Go for it.”

I gave it a few more half-hearted taps. Like, boxing is so last decade. “Okay. Okay. I’m doing it. I’m doing it.”

Mr O started prancing around me making little jabby punching motions. “Hit it, go on. Hit it.”

He was starting to annoy me. I hit the bag with a little more force.

“That’s more like it. Come on.

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