The Strawberry Sisters Read Free Page B

I?’ I asked.
    ‘A nice one.’
    ‘Anything else?’
    ‘You’re good at jumping.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘Remember when we played cricket with Dad and you made that catch?’
    Then she said some nice stuff about me being kind, but mostly she went on about all the times that I haven’t been terrible at sports so I gave up and went and tapped on Amelia’s
bedroom door.
    ‘Come in if you’ve got me an answer to the torture of adolescence. Or lots of chocolate.’
    I didn’t have either of those things so I just said, ‘Amelia, what am I like?’ through the door.
    There was a pause. Then the door opened.
    ‘School’s all right,’ she said. ‘It’s pretty much the same as primary school, just bigger and with more people nagging you. Don’t worry, people will like you.
You’re nice.’
    I was surprised by this because mostly Amelia says I am a turbo idiot. ‘Am I?’
    ‘Yeah, if you tell any of the teachers apart from the music teacher that you’re my sister, they’ll probably be shocked that we’re related because I’m revolting.
You’ll just have to give them time to get over the fact that you’re not continuing the family tradition.’
    She closed the door.
    I asked Lucy next. She was in the sitting room, staring at the TV.
    ‘Lucy, how would you describe me?’
    ‘I wouldn’t.’
    ‘But if you had to?’
    ‘I wouldn’t because it would make noise and I don’t want noise because I’m watching this magic show.’
    I looked at the screen. A lady in a sparkly leotard was climbing into some sort of cabinet and the magician was waving a saw about. The mute sign was in the corner of the screen. ‘You
haven’t even got the sound on,’ I said.
    ‘I know. The mysterious music is stupid.
Shh
.’
    ‘Why do I have to
shh
?’
    ‘Because I’m concentrating. I won’t be able to remember how to do this on Saturday at ballet if you keep talking.’
    ‘Just tell me how you would describe me and I’ll—’
    She put a hand over my mouth, then, without taking her eyes off the TV, she picked up a magazine and a pen from the coffee table. She wrote something and handed it to me.
    There was one word written in her large, wobbly handwriting:
    NICE
    I let her go back to the magic.
    Mrs Bottomley always said that ‘nice’ was a wishy-washy word that didn’t really mean anything and that we weren’t allowed to use it in our writing.
    But nice is better than horrible. I’m not ultra-clever like Amelia, or amazingly chatty like Chloe, or even adorably crazy like Lucy, but maybe if I was super nice people would notice me
and like me.

On Monday morning when I got up, I couldn’t find my new school skirt, even though I had very carefully clipped it on to one of those special skirt hangers as soon as I
got it. In the end, I found it in the bathroom. It was being a tent for Lucy’s Action Man. Back in our bedroom, Chloe was still in bed, but Lucy was dancing around naked.
    ‘Lucy!’ I said. ‘Can you please not use my skirt?’
    ‘Not use it for what?’
    ‘Not for anything! I need it for wearing.’
    Lucy made a grumbly noise. ‘I never get new skirts. Why do you always get new things?’ She pulled her old gingham school dress over her head. ‘I get things that Amelia has worn
and then Chloe has worn. And when Chloe wears things she makes them stink.’
    ‘I think that dress has been washed since Chloe wore it.’
    Lucy gave me a look. ‘Yes, but I still
know
what she did in it.’
    Chloe pulled her duvet off her face. ‘Are you saying the ghost of my farts lives on in those dresses? Cool.’
    Lucy yanked her socks on. ‘It’s very not cool. And I won’t ever wear the dress that you used the skirt to carry frogspawn in.’
    Chloe tumbled out of the top bunk. ‘Mum will make you.’
    ‘She can’t. It’s not here any more.’
    I exchanged a look with Chloe. ‘Where is it, Lucy?’
    ‘I’m not telling you. If I tell you then I’ll have to bury you in the same place.’
    I hoped that Mum