Lula Does the Hula Read Free Page A

it.’ His shoulders sagged and he plodded to the back door of the main house across the courtyard. ‘My own children. Bringing me to my bloody knees.’
    ‘Hey, Spenser.’
    Dad stopped and looked warily upwards at Next-Door Dan’s window. ‘Sorry about the noise, Daniel,’ he ventured.
    ‘Good tunes last night. At the Guilty Felon.’
    ‘You think?’ Dad’s face brightened. ‘It was all new stuff.’
    ‘I liked it. Especially that catchy one about . . . uh . . .
my heart’s gonna boil
. . . y’know?’
    Pen snorted. I wrinkled my nose. Dad is a soughtaftersongwriter, but we all live in fear of his next totally ditzy number-one hit. How can such an amazing poet – a university professor, for goodness’ sake – write such crazy stuff, and how can the crazy stuff
always work
? It’s mad.
    ‘I think that one’s going to be big,’ said Dad, shambling back over. ‘EMI want it for a funky rap-pop duet with two of their latest signings.’
    ‘Yeah?’
    ‘Indeed. But I need to work on the . . .’ Dad trailed off, lost in a world we couldn’t hear just yet. Thank God.
    ‘Is it true you’re playing at the Port Albert Regatta?’
    Pen clutched my arm. The biggest inter-school rowing regatta was not a source of excitement for us, but the after-party was legendary. Kicking off with a fancy ball, it degenerated as fast as you liked into the district’s biggest mosh pit. Dad getting down with the moshers was too terrible to think about.
    ‘Please no,’ I whispered, blood draining from my face.
    ‘Oh absolutely yes,’ said Dad happily to Dan. ‘A few weeks to go, but I’m ready already. Hawaiian theme this year. Luau. Can’t wait.’ His voice raised in happy trilling as he sashayed back into the main house, bumping his sizeable hips to either side. ‘
Boiiiiil your heart
. . .’



Chapter Four
    ‘How’d the gasket fit, Tallulah?’ asked Next-Door Dan. ‘Perfect?’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ I said, grinning up at him. ‘Dad helped me. Oscar’s one happy motor. Now I’ve just got to put his engine block back in, and –’
    ‘
Quiet!
’ hissed Pen.
    ‘What?’ I asked.
    ‘Firstly, no one’s supposed to know about your motormechanics obsession; secondly,
naming
that useless car makes you sound even more crazy!’
    ‘It’s dawn,’ I retorted. ‘No one’s awake to hear this casual conversation!’
    ‘
He’s
awake,’ replied Pen, flinging a dismissive hand in Dan’s direction.
    ‘I’m harmless,’ said Next-Door Dan hurriedly. ‘Like, totally. So you’ll save me a dance at the regatta ball, Tallulah?’
    Pen and I both looked at him blankly.
    ‘The luau, or whatever it is?’ he continued, hesitant.
    ‘Erm,’ I said, my shock and stupefication switching to unconcealed delight at being asked. ‘Actually I’m kind of seeing someone now.’
    ‘So I hear,’ said Dan.
    ‘Huh,’ said Pen, clearly irked at not being asked herself. ‘You’re just like the rest of them, Next-Door Dan. All happy to dance with the freaky witch girl now that you know you’re safe. Now that Jack has lived to tell the tale. Join the queue.’ She glared up at him, and he leaned back into the window a little.
    ‘No, no,’ he said hastily. ‘Always knew there was nothing wrong with Tatty. No jinx there. Just weird coincidences . . . all those terrible accidents. How’s the dude with the fingers?’
    ‘Huh,’ said Pen again, her arms crossed, staring up at Dan with her aggro squinty eyes. ‘
Without
fingers, you mean.’
    It was probably too dark for Dan to recognise the danger signs. ‘The Hambledon boys are after you, then, Tatty?’ he continued. ‘Are you playing along while your Jack is away?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Pen at the same time as I said, ‘No.’
    Then I said, ‘How did you know he’s been away?’
    ‘Ohh.’ Dan waved his hand around. ‘Everyone knows he’s been a big hit up in London with Channel 4. Since the little exposé.’ He eyed me. ‘Hang on, does that mean you haven’t seen