Another Me Read Free Page A

Drew paused only for a moment. ‘See you at rehearsals!’ He laughed, and gave my bag a punch that lifted it from my arms and sent books and jotters flying all over the ground.
    â€˜Oops, sorry,’ he laughed. Then he was gone, taking the stairs two at a time, swallowed up by the fog.
    â€˜Hate you, Drew Fraser,’ I shouted after him. I bent down and began to pick up my books. ‘I’ll show him who can act!’ I muttered to myself.
    He had only made me more determined that I would take the part. I’d show him, and Monica, and even Daft Donald, that Fay Delussey was no wimp. I wasn’t someone you could feel sorry for. In a way, I thought, I was glad I had bumped into Drew. Nothing was going to stop me playing Lady Macbeth now.
    I began again to clip down the stairs, and even mysteps seemed to echo my determination. They sounded sure of themselves, just like me at that moment. Not like Drew Fraser’s soft tread as he’d run away from me.
    I stopped dead.
    Drew Fraser’s soft tread.
    Those footsteps behind me. Those clipping footsteps so like my own. They couldn’t have belonged to Drew.
    Because, I suddenly realised, Drew Fraser had been wearing trainers.

Chapter Five
    Mum wasn’t home. Only Dad, sitting by the heater pretending to read his paper. But I could see him all the time glancing at the clock as it ticked the minutes away.
    â€˜Fog’s awful,’ I said, and he grunted. ‘That’s probably why Mum’s late.’
    He stared at me over his glasses and didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he smiled and put down his paper. ‘You’re probably right, honey. Now, how about you? Did you have a good day?’
    He got up and followed me into the kitchen while I told him about getting the part.
    â€˜
Macbeth!
’ He whistled. ‘Your teacher’s being a bit ambitious. That’s a hard play even for adults.’
    â€˜Oh, he’s adapted it for us, to make it easier, he says.’
    â€˜So, who’s Macbeth?’ But he answered the question himself. ‘Not Drew the heart-throb? He seems to getpicked for everything these days. Football, drama. You name it and he’s the star.’
    I tutted. ‘He’s bribing someone if you ask me. I certainly don’t think he’s a heart-throb.’
    â€˜That’s because you’ve known him so long. You can remember him growing up. Skin and bone, with legs like sticks. If ever there was a case of an ugly duckling turning into a swan, it’s Drew Fraser.’ We both laughed at the memories. Drew Fraser’s mum and mine had been friends for a long time. Now, his mum drove mine potty with her tales of her wonderfully talented son. She had forgotten the years when Drew couldn’t walk in a straight line without tripping over his shoelaces.
    Dad shook his head. ‘So he’s landed the star part.’ He started to peel potatoes. ‘You know,
Macbeth
is supposed to be an unlucky play. In the theatre they won’t even call it by its real name.’
    â€˜Donald told us. The “Scottish Play”, they call it.’
    â€˜Yes, it has a history of weird things happening when it’s on.’
    I remembered then the weird thing that had happened to me on the stairs, in the fog, and that strange feeling I had that someone was there watching me, following me. I was just about to tell Dad, when we heardMum’s key in the lock and my dad stiffened. He dropped a half-peeled potato into the sink and headed for the door. I was forgotten.
    â€˜Couldn’t get a bus!’ Mum shouted. ‘The fog’s so thick some of the buses have been taken off so I had to walk.’
    â€˜That’s what we thought,’ I said quickly and ran past Dad into the hall to kiss her. ‘Didn’t we, Dad?’
    He didn’t answer. He just looked at her, as if he wasn’t sure she was telling the truth. There it was again, that icy