Ribblestrop Read Free Page B

it used to be a boys’ school. Can we sit down?”
    â€œHere? Why?”
    Ruskin started to slide into the seat, forcing the girl to remove her feet.
    â€œWe were on our way to the baggage car.”
    â€œOh no.” The girl was sitting forward. “Your friend’s wet himself.” She was pointing rudely at Sam’s soaking shorts.
    â€œNo,” said Sam. “There was an accident.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, it’s a boys’ school? No one said to me it was a boys’ school, I was told it was for girls. Look, you—if you untuck your shirt, no one will see. Look at the state of you! Seriously, what is that?”
    â€œTea,” said Sam.
    â€œMainly hot water,” said Ruskin. “Look, shall I go down to the baggage car and get the spares?”
    â€œYou’ll have to take them off,” said the girl. “You can’t sit in soaking-wet shorts, you’ll get shrivelled. No one’ll see, we’ll dry them out of the window.”
    â€œI can’t really do that,” said Sam.
    â€œI had to do this once with a scarf when someone was sick—I had to wash it in the loo and then we tied it to the door handle between Bristol and Tiverton. It’s a warm day, you’ll be fine.”
    Ruskin nodded and smiled: “You know, that’s not a bad plan, Sam. Because I’m not sure they’ll let us in the baggage car and even if they do, my shorts won’t fit you. This is all my fault, you know.”
    â€œThen you can dry them,” said the girl. “What’s your name? Sam?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œTake them off and give them to your friend. Come on, nobody can see.” The girl was standing up, taking control. Her hand was thrust out and the train was slowing.
    Sam feared disaster was on its way. After all, he’d lost a cap, he’d been bruised and scalded. The day had more bad luck in store, that was for certain. But he was one of those boys who found it hard to resist strong-minded people for fear of beingthought rude. He struggled out of his shorts, pulling his shirttails down to his knees.
    â€œGive us your tie as well. Then we can tie the shorts to the door just in case fat boy lets them go—a little safety device.”
    This husky-voiced confident girl: Sam just couldn’t disobey. He took off his tie, feeling as if the world was conspiring to steal his whole uniform. At least he had the blazer—and that was the item his parents had saved for hardest. There was only one store in London where you could get them, and they’d only had an unclaimed special order in stock—a blazer, it seemed, that had been made for a small bear. “He’ll grow into it,” said the bored salesman, who’d realized straightaway that the Tack family was virtually penniless. The other option had been buying a small dinner jacket and stitching gold ribbons onto it. Sam’s mother was keen but her son had managed, politely, to make his opinion known, and they’d come home with the overcoat model. It was quite useful now, to wrap himself up in. He curled into the seat and watched the approach of Reading.
    â€œYour friend is very strange,” said the girl.
    Ruskin had disappeared into the toilet. He was intending to give the shorts a scrub and then devise the clothes drier.
    â€œI was warned this was a freaky school,” said the girl. “I guess I should be glad if he’s the least freaky. What’s his name?”
    â€œJacob Ruskin.”
    â€œMy name’s Millie Roads. This is going to be my fifth school. Dad phoned the headmaster and told him the government would put a year’s fees up front if they’d take me straightaway.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œHow old are you? You look like a gnome.”
    â€œI’m twelve.”
    â€œYou’ve got a black eye coming—are you a fighter? I had this friend called Katie who could beat up anyone. I was trying