Squishy Taylor and the Mess-Makers Read Free

over the next two weeks. Sorry for the inconvenience.
    I wave the letter at the screen. ‘They’re closing the street for Carmeline Clancy’s film,’ I explain to Mum.
    ‘Which street?’ she asks.
    I squint at the little map down the bottom. ‘The one round the back of our building!’

At school, my friends are all obsessed with how bad Carmeline Clancy is. You can kind of hear their parents in their voices as they say things like, ‘I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like that,’ and, ‘She shouldn’t be allowed on TV,’ and ‘It’s just plain rude.’ They sit around and have a little agreeing party together. Everyone agrees with everyone else, only more so. Carmeline Clancy seems to get worse and worse as they talk.
    I suggest playing ninja-monkey tag, but no-one hears. They’re all having too nice a time judging Carmeline.
    I get depressed and go looking for Vee. But she’s with the older kids who all do snob-face at me.
    I go do flips off the monkey bars by myself. I even talk to some grade-one kids for a bit until the bell goes.

    On the tram, my bonus sisters and I squash onto the same seat. Jessie picks up one of the free papers and starts reading it. (It sounds weird that a kid would read the paper, but it’s actually normal for Jessie.) She rustles a page and says, ‘Ha. Hey, you guys, look at this.’
    She slides the paper onto Vee’s lap. The headline says: P HOTOS OF C HILD S TAR’S R UINED H OTEL R OOM L EAKED BY H OUSEKEEPING S TAFF .

    Underneath, but still in big writing, it says, ‘Third night of chaos in a row,’ states secret source.
    The pictures show a hotel room like a war zone . Sheets have been ripped up and there’s food smeared on the floor. Sections of wallpaper, at kid height, have been torn and are hanging in flaps. It’s really bad.
    Carmeline Clancy says she ‘didn’t do it’, but refuses to explain, the newspaper says.
    The bit that makes me angriest is the quotes around ‘didn’t do it’. Like they’re saying she’s lying, without properly saying it.
    When we get off at our tram stop, the puppy is sitting by a side door of the hotel. His fur looks a bit shinier than the last time I saw him. I want to run across the road and cuddle him, but by the time the lights have changed, he’s gone.

    ‘Where is that poor child’s mother?’ Mum asks on Skype that night. Even though Carmeline Clancy isn’t really poor, or a child.
    ‘Probably Geneva,’ I say, which makes Mum feel bad, even though I only said it to be funny.
    ‘I mean, whose job is it to keep her safe?’ Mum asks.
    Mum’s life mission is to make sure everybody’s safe. That’s why she works at the UN. She knows I’m fine with Dad and Alice. She’s looking after the rest of the world.
    ‘Who is looking after her?’ Mum says again.
    ‘The meanest lady in the universe,’ I say, remembering the death look .
    But Mum ignores me. ‘Whatever Carmeline is guilty of,’ she says, ‘this kind of public shaming of a child –’
    ‘But she didn’t do it,’ I say, not listening. ‘She wouldn’t.’
    I know I’m right.

    The next morning, as we walk past the hotel to our tram stop, we all dawdle and try to look in. I’m desperate to talk to Carmeline Clancy, and now I think she needs my help.
    ‘I’m going to go meet her after school,’ I say.
    ‘You can’t,’ Jessie says. ‘They’ll never let you in. Anyway, why would you want to meet someone like that? ’
    ‘Jessie, you’re the one who always talks about evidence,’ I say. ‘What about innocent until proven guilty?’
    Vee doesn’t say anything, but I can tell she agrees with me. Vee and I both love Carmeline Clancy. We loved her first.
    We cross at the lights. The tram is coming slowly up the hill.
    ‘What about those pictures from the paper?’ Jessie says. ‘Aren’t they proof?’
    ‘They’re proof that someone made the mess,’ I say. ‘Not that it was her.’
    ‘Well, who else –?’
    ‘The hotel